He’s an Alpha She doesn’t Care novel Chapter 133

Wynta

She could see through the window the way her mother was shoved about by Alpha Dorian, and although she felt anger well up inside of her, it was the simple hand gesture from her own mother that held her to the spot. It wasn’t much, but she and Remi were fully focused upon her and not anyone else.

As she hit the ground, her knees slammed hard, and she used one hand to keep herself upright, almost as if she was completely used to being treated this way by that Alpha, who’d not even looked at her once, knew exactly where she was and his own hands moved on pure instinct as well.

This was all Wynta and Remi needed to grasp about the wolf outside, tethered to their mother; this was the routine of their lives. As her mother steadied herself, she lifted her hand from the ground and made a slight stop gesture aimed directly at the window where Wynta and Remi were watching. Then, she rested her hands on her knees, clasping them together in a pose of complete submission, as if acknowledging the Alpha’s dominance.

That one gesture communicated volumes—her mother wanted her to hold back, to refrain from reacting to the unsettling scene before them, to let events unfold as they would. Wynta felt a knot of unease tighten in her stomach; Remi’s discomfort was even more palpable. Their mother was prepared to return to Dorian’s pack if he would accept the body outside as his child. The implications of that gesture weighed heavily on Wynta’s mind.

A gentle hand on her arm pulled her from her thoughts, and she murmured in a voice barely above a whisper, just loud enough for Alpha Larissa to hear, “I understand we need to stay put. It’s what mother wishes.”

Wynta’s gaze shifted back to the scene unfolding before her as Alpha Dorian instructed Nolan to examine Wynta’s lifeless body to confirm her identity. As Nolan approached the body, Edward interjected, “Alpha Dorian, why don’t you do it yourself? If she’s truly your child, you would recognize her, even in death.”

“I’ve never seen her in person—only in photographs. Nolan here knows her intimately,” Dorian replied, and Wynta felt a low, menacing growl rumble from Jared and Creed upon hearing those words. A small smile crept onto her face as she sensed their protectiveness. She raised her banded hand to Larissa, who nodded in understanding, recognizing the tension emanating from Jared.

“He doesn’t know yet,” Larissa murmured softly, her voice laced with concern.

“No, but nothing escapes the band. Every reaction I have to his touch, no matter how minute, he picks up on. And if anyone dares to lay a hand on him, Remi will not hesitate to eliminate them. We know who our Mate is.”

Wynta stood resolutely as Nolan pulled back the sheet from the body, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head, examining the features.

“There’s a glamor on the body, crafted to mimic your appearance closely enough to deceive anyone unsure of your true looks. I have a couple of witches who specialize in this kind of work,” Larissa remarked, amusement dancing in her tone.

“Impressive,” Wynta replied, her interest piqued.

A brief silence enveloped them as Nolan opened one of the woman’s eyelids, scrutinizing her eye color. He then covered the body again, his voice firm. “It’s not her. Wynta has green eyes; this woman has brown.”

A snarl erupted from Alpha Dorian, his frustration palpable. “Where is Wynta?”

With newfound confidence, Wynta stepped out from the shadow of the packhouse, positioning herself beside Jared. She slipped her arm around his waist, concealing her band, and declared, “I am Wynta Morgan. And who exactly are you?” Her voice rang out, clear and assertive for all to hear.

Dorian’s gaze locked onto her, an intense scrutiny in his eyes. She didn’t yet know what her mother looked like, but she could feel Dorian assessing her, and she noticed her mother attempt to raise her head, only to have Dorian sharply force it back down. “You don’t get to look at what you took from me,” he growled, his voice low and threatening.

“She is Wynta,” Nolan confirmed, his tone steady.

Wynta’s attention was drawn to the way Dorian manhandled her mother, and she felt Remi’s anger simmering beneath the surface. Her hand instinctively clenched the fabric of Jared’s shirt as they stood their ground, unwavering.

“Who is she?” Wynta demanded, her eyes narrowing as she focused on Dorian.

“You died?” Dorian asked, his tone dismissive as he ignored her question.

“I did, but I was brought back on the way to the pack,” she replied, her voice steady. “Jared wouldn’t let me go. I was dead for several minutes.”

“I’m not,” Jared interjected, his voice firm and unwavering.

Dorian scrutinized her closely, trying to discern the truth in her words. Wynta seized the moment, pressing on with her inquiry. “Who is the woman?”

“The one who severed you from your mother and took you from me and the pack. You are my true heir. I never stopped searching for you,” Dorian stated, his voice heavy with unfulfilled longing. “Come here to me, daughter.”

Wynta raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on her face. “I have no family; I’ve been an orphan my entire life,” she replied, refusing to budge from her position beside Jared. “So, no thank you.” She turned her gaze to Edward. “I don’t know him, and I’m not going anywhere with a stranger.”

“Wynta, I can vouch for him,” Nolan insisted. “He came to the pack looking for you. He even provided the date you were taken.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify