Alpha Single Daddy

I held him tightly, gently patting his back "Dad is back. Why are you still training so late?"

Just as I reached out to pick up the training record book beside him, he was quick as a flash and snatched the book away.

But in that split second, I still managed to see the name on the book -- Bran.

This training record book wasn't his.

Just then, a voice came from the doorway.

"Dad, when did you get back?" Standing at the door was my adopted son, Bran.

I looked at him and pointed to the training record book, asking, "Bran, why is your training record book in Cupid's room?"

A flicker of panic flashed across Bran's eyes.

Then he looked at Cupid and said, "My little brother saw that I was so tired from training and volunteered to help me complete the training tasks."

Cupid lowered his head, his voice barely audible. "Y - yes... I offered to help my brother. It has nothing to do with him."

His voice quivered, and his body trembled uncontrollably.

My gaze immediately shifted to Bran.

Bran wore a nonchalant expression, "You heard him. My little brother said he volunteered to complete my werewolf training record. I didn't force him. Right, little brother?"

He deliberately elongated the last word, "brother."

To my ears, there seemed to be nothing amiss.

But upon hearing this, Cupid's face instantly turned deathly pale.

"Yes, brother," Cupid replied in a feeble voice.

His humble demeanor made my heart ache unbearably, and a fierce anger flared up within me.

When on earth had he fallen to the point of having to watch an outsider's expressions?

"Bran, take your training record and complete it yourself. Don't always expect others to do your work for you," .

Bran dared not refute.

He picked up the training record book and scurried back to his room.

As I drew closer to my son, I was shocked to notice his heavy dark circles, as if he hadn't had a proper rest in ages.

Most importantly, his complexion was extremely poor, sallow and emaciated. Compared to how he looked before I went on the expedition, he seemed like a completely different person.

Cupid clung tightly to my hand. With a sobbing voice, he asked, "Dad, are you not going to leave again this time you're back?"

"Dad won't leave. I'll stay right here with Cupid,"

Over the years, I had been completely absorbed in the affairs of the pack. Now, looking at the state my son was in, I was jolted into realizing how utterly wrong I was.

At his age, the care and nurturing of his soul were equally crucial.

When I asked about the whereabouts of his mother, a sudden flash of panic crossed my son's eyes.

"Mom said the pack affairs are thorny and she won't be back until very late tonight," he replied.

What on earth could be so urgent in the pack that she had to deal with it herself at such a late hour?

I told Cupid to go to bed early, but he clung tightly to the corner of my clothes. I decided to take him to my study, where there was a soft carpet and thick blankets.

I took down an ancient werewolf legend from the bookshelf, sat on the carpet, and began to tell him the story in a soft voice.

In the story, how the heroic werewolf defeated the evil forces and protected his pack.

As I was telling the story, I inadvertently caught sight of my son's leg. In the dim light, there seemed to be a fresh scar there.

"Cupid, how did you get that wound on your leg?"

At these words, he looked towards the study door in horror, as if he was afraid of being spied on by something.

Then, after stammering for a long time, he managed to squeeze out a sentence, "Dad, please don't ask. I got it by accident myself." His voice was extremely low.