Alpha’s Last Gift : A Daughter’s Devotion

Back then, I didn’t live in this city. I was miles away, out in the countryside, with my werewolf pack—the Emberwolf Pack. My father was the Alpha, and I was just a happy pup running around, soaking in the fresh air, and splashing in the river with my friends. Family time meant hunting together and then gathering around a bonfire to share the catch. My parents would tell us stories about humans, how fascinating they were. My brother and I would listen, wide-eyed and a little scared, chewing on our meat.

We were a real family back then, in our own way. But one night changed everything. Out of nowhere, a fire broke out in our house. We were all asleep, but I remember someone grabbing me and pulling me outside. I was half asleep, but I could feel the heat, the smoke choking me as I coughed hard. It was one of the Omega maids, Olga, carrying me out.

I was so disoriented and started crying, calling out, “Dad, Mom, Christof!” But before I could get any answers, I passed out.

When I woke up, it was daylight, and I was in the pack’s infirmary with an oxygen mask strapped to my face. Healers were rushing around, and I felt this sharp pain in my chest and throat.

I started crying again, and Olga noticed. She came over, hugged me tight, and tried to comfort me. “Miss Moore, thank the Moon Goddess you’re awake! You’re safe now, everything’s okay.”

I couldn’t speak, but I tried to ask about my family. Olga just told me to eat first and handed me a bowl of porridge and a glass of warm milk. I didn’t want to eat, but she insisted, so I forced it down as fast as I could.

As soon as I was done, I looked at her and begged her to take me to my family.

Olga looked at me with a worried expression, then gently caressed my cheek. She helped me out of bed and led me to another room.

As soon as I stepped inside, I saw my dad sitting by a bed. Relief washed over me—he was covered in white bandages, but he was alive. I tried to call out to him, but my voice was gone, just a raspy whisper. He was crying, his face buried in his hands, and I felt panic rise up inside me. My eyes filled with tears as I rushed to his side.

When he noticed me, he broke down even more, pulling me into a tight hug. “Phoebe, I’m so sorry. I’m really, really sorry. Please forgive me,” he kept repeating, his voice shaking with guilt. I didn’t understand what had happened, but seeing him like this scared me.

I mouthed, “Where’s Mom? Where’s Christof?” and that was when he started crying again. After a moment, he stood up and looked at the bed next to him. I had not noticed it before, but someone was lying there, completely covered in a white cloth. My dad’s hand trembled as he reached out and slowly lifted the cloth.

It was my mom. Her eyes were closed, and her face was smudged with black ash. The smell of burnt wood filled the room. I was too young and too naïve to fully grasp what was happening, so I looked up at my dad, hoping for some kind of explanation. But all he could do was shake his head and cry harder, sinking to his knees.

He hugged me again, his voice breaking as he told me that Mom was gone. The world around me started to blur, everything becoming distant and unreal. Dad kept talking, saying that he had managed to get her out of the house last night, but she had inhaled too much smoke and died from gas poisoning.

Then he told me the worst part—he couldn’t save Christof. My brother was trapped inside, and by the time they found him, all that was left were his bones on his bed.

I was in shock. It was too much for a ten-year-old to handle. Just last night, we were having dinner together, and now Mom and Christof were gone.

I stared blankly as Dad told me everything. He then asked Olga to take me back to my bed and get some rest. But I couldn’t. As soon as I laid down, the reality hit me, and I started crying uncontrollably.

I tried to get up again to see my mom, but Olga held me tight and called for help. I screamed as loud as I could, but it was like no sound came out. Eventually, they had to sedate me so I’d calm down and finally fall asleep.

I don’t know how long I was out, but when I woke up, the infirmary was quieter. I saw Dad lying on the bed next to mine, his eyes closed. I panicked—what if he was gone too? I called out to him, my voice barely a whisper.

After a few tense moments, he opened his eyes. Relief flooded over me. He gave me a tired smile, his eyes puffy from all the crying.

Later that day, we headed home. Our manor was mostly burned, so we had to move to another house in the pack—a guest house that had been empty for a while.

Some of the Omega maids had died in the fire too. Their bodies were buried alongside Mom and Christof earlier that day, but the official ceremony would be held in a few days. We all needed time to recover first. These last few days were a rollercoaster of emotions for me.

As Dad and I walked into the new house, an eerie emptiness settled over us. It felt so different without Mom. She would’ve been checking every room, commenting on things, and making sure everything was just right.

She had such a strong presence, as befitted a Luna, and I admired her for that. Meanwhile, Christof would have gone straight to the best room to settle in. But now, it was just the two of us, and the house felt so much emptier.

It felt so strange not having them around anymore, and my eyes started to well up again. We walked into the house in silence. Dad took me upstairs to a room that was supposed to be mine and told me to stay put.

I just nodded, feeling numb. A few hours later, I could hear people talking downstairs—probably one of Dad’s Alpha meetings. I stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything crash down on me. I glanced out the window at the bright moon and whispered a prayer to the Moon Goddess, hoping for some kind of protection for my family.

Then, I heard a frantic knock on my door. It made me jump, and I called out, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Olga. Please open the door!” came the urgent reply from the other side.