The Alpha and The Enforcer [TATE]

Chapter 33 (SHORT CHAPTER)

Third Person P.O.V

Ellie's sister—though her name was known, it was a secret that would not yet be spoken aloud—sat quietly on the edge of the hospital bed. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavily in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of old blood still clinging to the sheets. Her body ached from the brutal fight with Ellie deep in the forest, every movement a reminder of the violence she had endured.

In the far corner of the room, a silent sentinel stood watch—a warrior sworn to ensure she could not escape or cause harm. His gaze never wavered; blinking was a luxury he could not afford. Trust was a fragile thing, and none in the pack were willing to extend it to her. The warrior's presence was a constant, a shadow that underscored her isolation.

Minutes passed slowly, each second stretching taut with unspoken tension, until finally the door creaked open. The figure who stepped inside was both familiar and unsettling—Jake, the pack's trusted doctor. His reputation for care and precision was unmatched, and he had tended to Ellie's wounds countless times, offering her a rare comfort, a brotherly kindness she had never had from anyone else. The bond they shared was a lifeline for Ellie, and now, seeing Jake standing before her sister, the unspoken implications thickened the air.

Jake's eyes locked with hers the moment he entered—and if one weren't paying attention, it would seem like a simple acknowledgment. But those who knew wolves would have noticed the brief flash of astonishment that widened their eyes, the sharp intake of breath that followed. Mates. It was a truth revealed not in words, but in the primal recognition shared silently between two souls destined for one another.

The room fell into an uneasy quiet until Jake's voice finally broke the stillness. "You can leave," he said softly to the warrior, who promptly exited without a word.

Jake approached his mate, clipboard in hand, though his focus was divided. His eyes flicked between the papers and the woman lying before him, knowing well that she was watching him closely. Concentrating on the medical notes became nearly impossible under the weight of her gaze.

"So," Jake began, his voice steady but with a hint of restrained frustration, "you're the one responsible for putting Ellie in the hospital."

The statement hung between them, and she flinched, caught off guard. Her mind raced, thoughts tangled between the fierce bond Jake held with Ellie and the reality of her own actions. How did she dare look at him now?

After a pause, Jake placed the clipboard on a nearby chair, deliberately creating distance. "My name is Doctor Steven, but everyone calls me Jake," he said, his tone softening. "I noticed your name isn't listed anywhere on your file. Would you mind telling me what it is?"

Inside, she wrestled with a storm of emotions. The question should have been simple, but fear tightened her throat. Could she trust him? Would the truth be met with rejection? She felt the crushing weight of uncertainty.

"Tina," she whispered—an alias, a shield. She loathed the lie but felt it was her only defense.

Their eyes met again, and Jake's expression shifted. He narrowed his gaze slightly, a flicker of doubt passing through his features. "That's not your name," he said quietly—almost to himself—but she heard every word.

Her heart pounded erratically, loud enough to drown out all other sounds. How could he know? What would come next? Would this revelation shatter the fragile thread of connection between them?

Jake's voice softened. "You don't have to tell me your real name, not if you're not ready. I'll call you Tina for now."

He slipped on his gloves and prepared to treat her wounds. The barrier was more than just medical protocol—it was a conscious effort to avoid the skin-to-skin contact that would initiate the mate bond's deeper connection. She looked on, disappointment flickering across her face, but powerless to change the moment.

This was only the beginning of a complicated journey—one fraught with pain, healing, and uncertain trust.

Enforcer Ted's P.O.V

After escorting Ellie's sister to the hospital, Ted returned home alone, the weight of the night settling heavily on his shoulders. Mariah had hoped to reach out to Ellie, to mend the widening rift, but Ted knew better. Ellie's anger was a fierce storm, and no words could calm it yet. She needed distance—time to process the betrayals and the truths uncovered.

He understood her more than anyone. Ever since that stormy night at the Eastern Borders when he found Ellie alone, shivering and hurt, the image haunted him. The rain had masked so much—the faint heartbeat he feared was gone, the scent of another life abandoned and unknown. He had searched tirelessly beyond the borders, miles away, even questioned neighboring packs, but the trail was cold. The rain had washed away the traces.

Ted had kept his silence to protect her, believing that shielding Ellie from that dark truth was mercy. He hadn't wanted her to grow up haunted by the loss of a sibling she never knew she had. But now, he realized his mistake. He should have trusted her strength. They might have faced the pack's dangers united instead of fractured by secrets.

Two pack leaders drowning in their own turmoil—Ted looked up at the night sky from his balcony, lips moving in a silent prayer to the moon goddess. She was the guardian of strength and renewal, the light in their darkest hours. He thanked her for the blessing of Ellie, his pup, his daughter. From the moment he held her, he knew she was his.

The quiet creak of the door brought him back. Mariah entered, her face clouded with sorrow. Ted met her halfway, pulling her into a comforting embrace as her body shook with sobs.

"She was so angry," Mariah whispered, voice breaking.

Ted's heart fractured anew—not just for her pain but because he knew he had caused it. Wrapping his arms tighter around his mate, he vowed silently to make things right.

They sank onto the couch in their bedroom, holding each other in the fragile silence. His thoughts wandered to Ellie—where she was, how far the gulf between them had grown. He would not wait passively for her forgiveness. Tomorrow, he would find her. He needed her to hear the truth—his truth. Though she hated him now, she deserved it.

Time passed unnoticed as Mariah's sobs subsided, her breathing evened. When she finally fell asleep in his arms, Ted lifted her gently, carrying her to their bed.

One last glance at the star-speckled sky, one more prayer for guidance, and he settled beside her, the weight of his responsibilities heavy but resolute.

His mate resting peacefully, his daughter lost somewhere out there—Ted held on to hope that dawn would bring healing.