Page 37 of Fated Alpha Baby

“Alpha Conan…” she whispers fearfully.

Dorothy has never had to bow to Conan. He’d always been like a son to her. She helped care for him as a young boy. And now she’s bowing respectfully.

She senses how angry he is.

I can sense it, too, coursing through my veins as if his anger is my own.

“Conan…” I shoot to my feet. “You need to calm down.”

“Don’t tell me what I need to do, Hannah. It’s you who needs to tell me the truth. Right now.”

Without another word, Dorothy slips off her chair and quietly disappears down the corridor to her cabin. Her departure leaves me feeling unsafe, my heart hammering in my chest. Conan remains like a dark, ominous presence in the doorway, and I can’t see his eyes. They simply appear like dark orbs of condemnation.

“Please, come inside so we can talk,” I plead, my bottom lip trembling, suspecting why he’s here, brooding with anger.

I didn’t get a solution in time. It’s too late. I’ll just have to figure out a way to deflect this.

Conan steps inside the cabin, kicking the door shut behind him, his fists curled at his sides so tightly that the veins on his forearms burst prominently.

“Talk.”

The command is spoken from a true alpha’s lips, a tongue demanding reverence and submission that it takes every ounce of inner strength to fight against. To stop myself from blurting out the truth.

I must remember that I cannot trust him. I must remember that he hurt me. That he could hurt me again if I gave him that power by becoming vulnerable again.

“I don’t know what you think, storming in here and telling me that I’m hiding something from you,” I say haughtily as I fold my arms. “I—”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Hannah.” He marches across the room with fierce, vindictive steps, his sheer size blowing a stiff breeze through the air. Or maybe it’s his powers he’s using.

I gulp hard as he towers over me, pointing a finger at my face.

“You have no right to stand here and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, Hannah,” he growls, his breath searingly hot as he glares at me. “I want you to say it.”

I narrow my eyes at him defiantly. “I don’t know what—”

“Hannah Young!” he grates through gritted teeth. “It’s over. You cannot lie to me anymore. That child who’s asleep in my house is mine, isn’t she? I scented her, Hannah. I’m not imagining things.”

My chest heaves uncontrollably as I face the alpha, seeing no way out except going right through it.

If I ever wanted to hurt Conan Becker as much as he’d hurt me, it’s with this right here—when he learns that he lost eight years with his daughter.

“Fine!” I throw my hands up. “You want the truth, Conan? Well, here it is: Clarissa is your daughter. There! Are you happy now?”

Conan’s face pales as he straightens up from his leaning stance, his eyes flashing with a flurry of mixed emotions.

“You lied to me…” he whispers in disbelief. “You told me her father…”

“I told you that you wouldn’t know her father,” I retorted with a scoff. “Because you wouldn’t. The man you were the night she was conceived was not the man you became the very next day.”

Conan frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, Conan. All your empty promises meant nothing by the time the sun came up. You took what you wanted, and then you left because none of it was true.”

Conan presses a hand to his temple. “Are you hearing yourself right now?! You’re trying to justify lying to me about my daughter because I wasn’t there the next morning? Nothing you say can change what you did, Hannah! You ran off with my daughter, and you still lied about it after eight years! Who the fuck are you?”

“I am who you made me become!” I snap back.

Conan takes a step forward, eyes full of pure, dark rage. He’s about to say something when he opens his mouth, but he shuts it when his eyes turn black gold.