The Alpha's Daughter - Chapter 29

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I lay on the bed for the rest of the morning, curled up in a ball. I didn't cry. I just felt kind of...numb, to be honest. I shouldn't have thrown that back in his face. No matter what he had said, it had been a bit below the belt. But I was just so angry with him. Actually, I was just angry in general.


I remained silent, choosing to ignore the person's thoughts. I didn't want to speak to anyone. I didn't want to acknowledge anyone. I wanted to wallow in my own pity. This was it. This was the thing I had been most frightened of. Dante was going to find out about my baby and he would take it, and he wouldn't stop until he got it.

I closed my eyes, trying to think of anything but the obvious. It was pointless; no matter what my mind floated to, it would revolve its way back to this mess. What was I going to do?


Go away, I groaned, scrunching my eyes up. The pounding in my head began, a welcome distraction. But the person didn't seem to be sold on giving up, and soon, the door of the bedroom creaked opening, making me sigh. I looked up and my eyes widened. Dad was standing there, his face blank.

"What?" I murmured, sitting up. His presence had a sobering effect on me, like I wanted to just suck it up.

He closed the door behind him and stood by the end of my bed, his hands in his trouser pockets. I was suddenly reminded of the father I had grown up with as a child; the tall, smiling man who had put me on his shoulders and read me bed time stories. I wondered if either of us had known what would happen, if things would have panned out the same way. Would we still be where we were, or would he have done something to prevent it? Mind you, what could he have done?

"Cal told us," he murmured, sitting down. Great. That was just about all I needed at that point; a lecture from my almost absent father. I just looked at him blankly, as if what he had said hadn't registered at all. He reached out to touch me and I almost jumped a mile, banging my head off of the headboard and wincing.

When I opened my eyes, I could see that he was trying to keep a straight face. Typical, absolutely bloody typical. I rubbed my head, groaning.

"Trust you," he murmured sadly. Aye, trust me. His eyes were tired, huge dark circles under his eyes from not sleeping properly. He could join the club. We sat in silence for the next couple of minutes, each of us just acknowledging each others presence.

"What am I going to do?" I mumbled eventually, running my fingers through my hair. Dad just stared at the wall he was facing, a stony expression on his face.

"You should be having this conversation with Cal," he told me. I shook my head, leaning back and looking at the ceiling.

"I know," I breathed. "But he was...he said-"

"Annie," dad scoffed, raising his eyebrows. "We both know you don't care what he said." It was times like these that I realised that I may have inherited more than just my temper from my dad. I gave him a faint smile, letting him know that he was definitely right.

"I should probably read you the riot act," he muttered, getting to his feet. "But I doubt you'd listen to me." I snorted; he had that part right. And besides; he couldn't exactly tell me what to do. He hadn't been in my life long enough to earn that right.

True, he thought sadly, decidedly not looking at me. I gave myself the mental equivalent of a slap; he had not been meant to hear that.

"Annie," he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair. "Did your mother ever tell you why I left you both?" I rolled my eyes. The only thing my mother had told me was that we were out of vodka. That had been about as far as our conversations went towards the end.

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