Too Late Alpha, I’m Done Being Your Pet

My hands shook as I re-uploaded the files.

The physician's signature. Scanned. High-resolution.

Submitted.

Five minutes later, my phone buzzed again.

Application Rejected.

Rejected by: Seraphina.

Reason: Attachments do not meet pack financial standards. Resubmit. Warning: Fraudulent attempts to acquire pack funds will be punished.

I completely fell apart.

The doctor was still in surgery. How could I get a detailed financial breakdown of every single drug?

I messaged Seraphina.

"Please, just approve the funds. My dad is dying."

"Seraphina, please, I'll do anything."

"I'm on my knees begging you, save my dad."

Three minutes later, she replied with a single smiley face emoji.

Then, a text.

"Clara, I'm just helping you adjust to the pack's rules. Kaelan hates it when people bring their poor, greedy habits into the pack. You should be thanking me."

My hands were shaking.

My entire body was shaking.

The red light above the operating room was still on.

The doctor said if we waited another hour, if the gene repair serum wasn't administered, it would be too late.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and activated the mate bond.

It was my last hope.

Through the bond, I pushed all my desperation, my pain, my fear.

Save him, I screamed in my mind. Please, save my father.

From the other end of the bond, I heard faint sounds.

Music, laughter, the clinking of glasses. He was at some party.

I waited. Ten minutes. Twenty. Half an hour.

Finally, an emotion came back through the bond. He was drunk. Annoyed. And beneath it all, disgusted.

"Seraphina already checked your account. Your father just got his budget approved last week. Follow the damn rules. Stop lying about your father's life to get money. Don't bother me!"

Just that. Then, silence. He slammed the bond shut.

In that exact moment, the light above the operating room went out.

The doctor pushed the door open and took off his mask. His eyes were full of regret.

"I'm sorry, Miss Miller. We did everything we could."

He paused, his voice soft. "If the money for the medicine had been approved just an hour sooner..."

I hit the cold floor.

My father was dead.

Because of a smiley face emoji. A "budget overrun."

Because Kaelan said, "Stop lying about your father's life to get money."

The mate bond in my chest, the connection that once felt warm and safe, was now frozen solid.

I felt nothing.

No love. No affection. No attachment.

Just a dead silence.

It seemed my tears had already run dry.

Three days later, after the funeral, I went back to the apartment and mechanically handled the arrangements.

My phone rang.

A text from Kaelan: Why aren't you answering my calls? There's an important dinner tomorrow. Have a dress ready.

I stared at the message and didn't reply.

I opened social media, hoping to see a single message of comfort.

The first post on my feed was from Seraphina.

A photo: the view of the New York City skyline from Kaelan’s private helicopter.

The city lights glittered below.

The caption read: "Unlike some people who only know how to beg for money. Total buzzkill. #BlessedBeta #AlphaLife"

Posted: Three days ago. 8:37 PM.

The exact time I was on my knees outside the clinic, begging for that $50,000.

The exact time my father was fighting for his life on the operating table.

She was joyriding in a helicopter, paid for by the pack, laughing at my desperation.

I liked the post.

My phone immediately rang. Kaelan. I didn't answer.

He texted: Why did you like Seraphina's post? What are you trying to do?

I opened her post again.

In the comments, I typed:

“Was the view nice from a private helicopter? The one bought with the $50k that could have saved my father's life? Hope you two bastards rot in hell together.”

Sent.

Kaelan’s calls became frantic.

I blocked his number. Then I blocked Seraphina.

And every other pack member who treated me like a leech.

I turned off my phone.

My world finally went silent.