The Alpha’s Forbidden Hybrid Mate (Fierce Alpha #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Violet

The taxi window is smudged with fingerprints and dust, but I press my forehead against it anyway, watching the landscape blur past. I should be happy to be home.

Instead, I feel miserable. Coming back here is a reminder of everything I’ve lost and everything I’ve been forced to become to appease my mother.

The small medicine bottle feels cool as I roll it between my fingers, the pills rattling softly inside. The sound is oddly soothing, rhythmic, and I focus on it instead of the knot tightening in my stomach.

My watch beeps, a sharp, insistent sound. I glance down at the reminder flashing on the screen: MEDICATION TIME. I close my eyes, trying to ignore it.

The watch beeps again, more aggressively now.

“Fine,” I mutter, unscrewing the cap. The taxi hits a pothole, and I clutch the bottle tightly, my heart jumping. Losing these pills would be a disaster. Worse than a disaster.

I shake out two pills and pop them in my mouth, forcing them down dry. The bitter taste lingers on my tongue, familiar and unwelcome. Within seconds, nausea rolls through my stomach like a wave. I swallow hard, shutting my eyes and breathing through my nose.

Eleven years of this. Or maybe more; I can’t remember beyond that. At least eleven years of taking meds that make me feel sick, that leave me weaker than I should be.

The bottle goes back in my purse, tucked into the side pocket where it always lives. Within reach. Always within reach.

I lean back against the seat, waiting for the worst of it to pass. It never fully goes away, just dulls to a constant, queasy feeling that sits in my stomach like a stone.

Of course, the pills aren’t the only things making me feel unsettled.

It’s not like I expected a grand homecoming or anything.

I’m the Alpha’s stepdaughter, but I’m an embarrassment.

Even so, at the very least, I thought my mother would pick me up at the airport.

Turns out, I’m not even worth a rental car.

I waited at Arrivals for an hour, watching families reunite around me, children launching themselves into waiting arms, lovers embracing. I stood there with my single suitcase, scanning the crowd for a familiar face that never appeared, for someone holding up a sign with my name on it.

Eventually, I gave up. Dragged my suitcase to the taxi stand and gave the driver an address I had to look at on a piece of paper to recall. And now, here I am. On my way home. Alone.

It doesn’t surprise me, really. My fragile health has never been welcomed in wolf shifter circles. We prize strength above all else: the ability to transform, to fight, to dominate. But me? I’m the opposite of everything we value.

Too weak. Too fragile. Too breakable.

The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror.

His eyes are amber, distinctly shifter. He probably caught my scent the moment I got in and knows exactly what I am.

Or rather, what I’m not. What I’m failing to be.

He looks away, but it’s too late. I already saw the pity in his expression. Somehow, it’s worse than contempt.

The streets get cleaner as we drive, the buildings nicer. We pass a coffee shop with outdoor seating, a boutique with expensive dresses in the window, a park where children are playing. This is pack territory now, where the wealthy live and the weak don’t belong.

My mother’s home, I think to myself. Not mine. My home—my family—was razed to the ground eleven years ago. At that point, I became baggage that my mother had no choice but to cart around.

The gate comes into view: wrought iron topped with decorative wolves frozen mid-howl.

Guard posts flank either side, and I can see at least three people on duty.

The taxi slows down as we approach the closed gate.

One of the guards, a man in his thirties with a scar running down his left cheek, steps forward, hand raised.

“State your business,” he says, not even glancing at me in the back seat.

“Just dropping—” the driver starts.

“I live here,” I interrupt, leaning forward. “I’m Violet. Alpha Alaric’s stepdaughter.”

The guard’s eyes finally land on me, and a strange look flickers across his face. Disbelief. Maybe amusement.

“The Alpha’s stepdaughter.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question; his tone makes it clear what he thinks of my claim.

“Yes.”

He exchanges a glance with another guard, a younger man who’s trying not to smirk. “Right. And I’m the Moon Goddess herself.”

Heat crawls up my neck. “Call up to the house if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, we’ll call up to the house.” The scarred guard leans against the taxi. “But first, you’ll need to step out of the vehicle. Security protocol.”

“I have identification—”

“Out of the vehicle. Now.”

I reach for the door handle, keeping my expression neutral. The driver looks uncomfortable, but he doesn’t say anything. Why would he? I’m nobody to him.

I step out onto the pavement, my legs steady. The younger guard is already pulling my suitcase from the trunk.

“Hey, careful with that!”

He drops it on the ground with more force than necessary. Something inside crunches.

“Oops,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.

The scarred guard circles me slowly, like I’m a threat he’s assessing. “You don’t look like pack. You don’t smell like pack, either.”

I don’t respond. There’s no point explaining myself to someone who has already decided I don’t belong.

He stops in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Funny thing…I’ve been working security here for eight years. Never seen you before in my life.”

I hold his gaze, silent.

“And the Alpha’s stepdaughter would have a car service. Transportation arranged. Wouldn’t show up in some random taxi like someone who doesn’t belong here.”

The driver clears his throat. “Look, I just need to get paid…”

“Then get paid and leave,” the younger guard says dismissively.

I pull my wallet out of my purse and hand the driver three twenties, more than enough to cover the fare and tip. He takes the money and practically peels out, leaving me standing there with two guards who clearly think I’m lying.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” the scarred guard says. “We’re going to call up to the main house. And when they tell us they don’t know who you are, you’re going to pick up that suitcase and walk back the way you came. Understand?”

“Make the call.”

He pulls out a radio, never taking his eyes off me. “Main gate to house. We have a situation.”

Static crackles, then a voice responds. “Go ahead.”

“Got a girl here claiming to be the Alpha’s stepdaughter. Says her name is Violet.”

There’s a pause. A long one.

My heart pounds in my chest. What if they don’t remember me? What if my mother tells them to turn me away?

“Describe her,” the voice says finally.

The guard looks me over with barely concealed disdain. “Five-five, maybe five-six. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. Looks human. Weak.”

Another pause.

“Send her through,” the voice says, but there’s surprise in his tone. “I’ll send someone down to escort her.”

The guard’s expression sours, but he lowers the radio. “Looks like you’re telling the truth.”

“Shocking,” I say flatly.

“You’ll still need to wait here until your escort arrives. Can’t have just anyone wandering the grounds.”

I don’t bother responding. I simply stand there while the two guards watch me like I might attack at any second. The younger one keeps glancing at my suitcase, probably hoping I’ll ask him to carry it so he can refuse.

Five minutes pass. Finally, I see someone approaching from the main house, a man in his fifties, dressed in the crisp uniform of the household staff. A butler, maybe. His expression is carefully neutral as he reaches the gate.

“Miss Violet,” he says with a slight bow. “Welcome home. I’m James, head butler. I apologize for the…inconvenience.”

“It’s fine,” I lie.

He gives the guards a look that could freeze fire. “The Alpha will hear about this treatment of his family.”

The scarred guard at least has the decency to look uncomfortable. “We were only following protocol.”

“You were following your own prejudices,” James says coldly. “There’s a difference.” He turns to me, his expression softening. “Please, allow me to take your luggage.”

“I can manage.”

But he’s already picking up my suitcase, handling it with far more care than the young guard did. “This way, miss.”

I follow him through the gate, refusing to look back at the guards. But I can feel their eyes on me, their judgment like a physical weight.

The walk up to the main house is longer than I remembered. The driveway curves through manicured gardens, past fountains and sculptures that probably cost more than most people’s houses. Everything is perfect. Pristine. Cold.

“I apologize again for the guards,” James says quietly. “They should have shown more respect.”

“They didn’t believe I belonged here.” I glance at him. “Can you blame them?”

He doesn’t respond to that, which is answer enough.

We reach the front steps: marble, gleaming in the afternoon sun. The house looms above us, three stories of wealth and power and everything I’m not.

I tighten my grip on my purse. Here we go.

James opens the front door, and I step inside. My shoes click against marble floors that shine like mirrors. The entryway is exactly as I recall: vaulted ceiling, enormous chandelier, fresh flowers arranged in a crystal vase on the center table.

“Please wait here, miss,” James says, setting my suitcase down gently. “I’ll inform the Madam of your arrival.”

He disappears down a hallway, leaving me standing alone in the massive foyer. The silence presses against my eardrums, broken only by the ticking of an antique clock somewhere down the hall.

Five minutes pass. Then ten.

I should have expected this. No one’s rushing to greet me.

Footsteps finally echo from deeper in the house. Heels clicking against marble.