The black Mercedes slowed as we approached the private medical wing of St. Jude's. Outside the towering glass entrance, the atmosphere shifted. It wasn't just a hospital; it was a fortress. Two dozen men in tailored black suits stood in a perfect, intimidating line along the walkway. Their stances were wide, hands clasped in front of them, eyes scanning the perimeter with a predatory sharpness that made the hair on my arms stand up.
As Laura stepped out of the car, three women and a man all dressed in crisp, professional attire stepped forward. They didn't speak. They simply inclined their heads in a synchronized, respectful nod to Laura. I stayed glued to the leather seat for a heartbeat, my pulse thumping in my ears, before Laura opened my door and gestured for me to follow. I kept my head down, trying to make myself invisible behind her tall, confident frame.
The interior of the hospital smelled of expensive wax and antiseptic. We moved through a series of glass doors that required biometric scans, eventually entering a suite that felt more like a five-star hotel than a recovery room.
In the center of the room, propped up against a mountain of white pillows, was Leonardo Khian.
The photos online hadn't done him justice. He looked younger than I expected, his skin olive-toned and remarkably smooth, though a exhaustion hung about his eyes. His hair was a deep, dark brown, but it was shot through with the same striking silver slashes I had seen in Ms. Eleanor's hair. It was a mark of the bloodline, a physical stamp of the power he carried. Even in a hospital gown, he radiated a heavy, grounding presence that made the air in the room feel dense.
"Laura," he said. His voice was a rich baritone, steady despite his condition. "Why are you here? I hope all is okay with Ms. Eleanor?"
I winced slightly at how he addressed his own mother. There was no "Mom" or "Mother," just the cold, formal title.
"Yes, she is fine, Alpha," Laura replied, her voice soft but clear. "She sent me. There is someone she wanted you to meet."
She shifted her weight, looking behind her left shoulder. I instinctively darted to the right. She turned right, and I ducked back to the left, my heart racing like a trapped bird. I wasn't ready. I looked at my hands my fingernails were chipped and stained from years of scrubbing floors, and my knuckles were calloused. I could feel the dryness of my skin, the way it felt tight and neglected. My red hair, which used to be my only pride, felt like a matted weight, unwashed and dull.
Laura reached back with a practiced grace, caught my arm, and firmly drew me from behind her. She gave me a gentle but insistent push forward.
I stood there, exposed in the center of the room, feeling like a moth caught in a spotlight.
Leonardo's eyes moved over me, taking in my clothes and my trembling hands. "Who is she?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"This is Hannah, Alpha," Laura responded, her voice dropping into a tone of profound gravity. "Your daughter."
The silence that followed was so absolute I could hear the rhythmic hum of the heart monitor. Leonardo's jaw literally dropped. He stared at me, his eyes widening as he searched my face. Up close, he was devastatingly handsome, possessing a rugged, clean-cut strength that made me feel even smaller, even more like a stray.
"What?" he demanded, his voice cracking. "How is that possible, Laura? My daughter died twenty one years ago."
"It is a long story, Alpha," Laura said, keeping her gaze neutral. "Your mother... she took her from the hospital. She placed her in an orphanage. There were arrangements made to ensure she was kept away."
She didn't offer the gritty details, and I realized she was protecting him or perhaps protecting Ms. Eleanor from his immediate wrath. She seemed to believe that the full weight of that betrayal should come from the woman who committed it.
Leonardo didn't look shocked in the way someone looks at a miracle; he looked shocked in the way someone looks at a crime they finally understand. A dark shadow passed over his features, a flash of recognition that his mother was capable of exactly what Laura described.
"How... but how do you want me to just believe that?" Leonardo's voice rose, a growl vibrating in his chest. "Why would my mother do something like that to me? I know she never liked Rebecca, but why be so cruel? To steal a child?"
He kept staring at me, his eyes burning with an intensity that made me want to look away, yet I couldn't.
"She is your pup," Laura said firmly.
Before I could move, Laura reached out and caught my hand. With a quick, sharp movement, she used a needle-thin finger to pierce the skin of my forearm. A bead of dark red blood welled up.
Leonardo's eyes changed instantly, the pupils bleeding out until his irises were a glowing, molten gold. He leaned forward, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of my blood.
I looked down at my arm, expecting the sting to linger, but I gasped. The small puncture didn't just stop bleeding; the skin literally knit itself back together in a second, leaving the surface smooth and unblemished. I had never healed like that before. In the Ragnar house, a cut would stay for days. But here, in his presence, it was like my body finally remembered what it was supposed to do.
"Can you smell her?" Laura asked quietly. "There is no need for a DNA test for our kind, alpha s. If you can smell yourself in her, that is the proof."
Leonardo s closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. When he opened them, the gold had faded, replaced by a shimmering layer of tears.
"Yes," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I can smell me in her. I can smell... everything. I always knew. When they showed me that dead baby and I couldn't smell my blood... I knew something was wrong. I felt the void, but I didn't know what to do. I let them convince me I was grieving too hard to see the truth."
He stopped, his chest heaving. "But how? Why? I... I..." He stammered, his hands shaking as he reached out toward me, beckoning me closer.
In the silence of my mind, I felt a strange ripple, like a stone being dropped into a still pond. It wasn't my voice, but a projection of his.
My child, his mind whispered to a memory I couldn't see. Our child, Rebecca. Our child is alive. I just can't believe it. She looks just like her mother. A complete replica, just a different hair color. I don't know how to contain this... thank you for staying alive. She looks just like you, my love. I hope you are happy now.
The raw love in his mental voice was overwhelming. It was a warmth I had never felt—a sense of belonging that didn't require me to earn it by working or staying quiet.
'Are you truly my dad?' Ryan's voice spoke through my mind, projecting outward to Leonardo. 'I was told I had no father.'
Leonardo jumped, his eyes going wide. He looked at Laura, then back at me. "What? Is she... is she like us? I saw how she healed, and she can hear my voice? She can speak back?"
Laura nodded, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. "She is very much like us, Alpha."
Leonardo let out a jagged laugh, his face breaking into a radiant smile. "Come to me, Hannah. Come and hug your daddy."
I hesitated, looking down at my clothes, then back at Laura. I felt like a smudge of grease on a silk sheet.
"Come on," he urged, his eyes soft. "It's okay."
I didn't walk; I ran. I threw myself into his arms, and for the first time in twenty one years, the world stopped feeling cold. He was so warm, smelling of cedar and something ancient and powerful. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight against his chest, and I felt the solid thrum of his heartbeat. It was a shield. For the first time, I felt like I didn't have to look over my shoulder. I had a father. I wasn't a mistake or a burden. I was a daughter of a billionaire alpha, and I was home.
But as the joy peaked, Arkin's voice cut through the warmth, sharp and commanding.
Leonardo, do you miss me? she projected, her voice ringing with a regal authority. It's been so long.
Leonardo froze. He drew back, his hands gripping my shoulders as he stared into my eyes, searching for something deeper.
Wait, his wolf's voice echoed in my mind, tinged with shock. Is that Rebecca's voice? Only I can hear Rebecca's sentinel.
"Rebecca?" Leonardo asked aloud, his voice trembling. "How? You have another voice?"
"Yes," I said, looking down at my lap, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "I have a Sentinel voice. Her name is Arkin. I only found out about her a few days ago."
Leonardo let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for two decades. He leaned forward and pressed a lingering, tender kiss to my forehead.
"That is your mother's soul," he whispered. "That means you are a hybrid, Hannah. You aren't just a wolf. You are the first of your kind and the last of your mother's kind. You are everything she was and everything I am."
He squeezed my shoulders again. "I am so happy, and at the same time, I am so, so sorry. I haven't been in your life. I let you live like a complete loner. I let you suffer and go through life by yourself. And look at you... I can't believe you are a grown-up now. I feel so bad for not watching you grow. You have every right to never forgive me. But for now... tell me about your life. Tell me how you grew up. I want to hear all your childhood memories. All the fun things you did."
I looked into his expectant, tear-filled eyes, and a lump formed in my throat. How could I tell him? How could I tell this powerful, grieving man that his "pup" had spent her childhood on her knees with a scrub brush?
I couldn't bring myself to say that I was moved from orphanage to orphanage, adopted at age seven only to be returned like a broken toy. I couldn't tell him that it happened again at eight, and again at nine. I couldn't describe the desperate, pathetic joy I felt when the Ragnars took me in at ten, not knowing they only wanted a servant who wouldn't complain.
I couldn't tell him that his own daughter, Leah, had spent her high school years making sure I felt subhuman. I couldn't tell him that my foster parents had blocked my scholarship out of spite, forcing me to study in secret, late at night, catching online classes while the house slept.
I didn't want to see the light in his eyes turn into a murderous rage or a soul-crushing guilt. Not yet.
So, I took a breath and forced a small, shaky smile.
"I spent a lot of time outside," I said, which was true I was always in the garden. "I loved to watch the stars at night. I studied very hard because I wanted to make something of myself. I had books that I kept hidden like treasures. I learned to be strong, Dad. I learned how to survive."
He beamed at me, tucking a strand of my messy hair behind my ear.
"You are a warrior, Hannah. Just like your mother."