Getting away with the Alpha's Pup

Chapter 182

Tobias' Perspective

I kicked open the half-closed wooden door, the panels creaking harshly. The air reeked of alcohol, and the room was a mess—empty bottles and crumpled papers were scattered across the floor. Curled up in the corner was my Alpha, his shoulders hunched, a bottle of spirits still clutched in his hand, his face hidden in the shadows. The sight made anger flare up inside me.

"Enough." I stepped forward and yanked the bottle from his hand, throwing it to the ground. Liquor splashed, and shards of glass flew in every direction. "What are you doing? Are you still our Alpha?"

He looked up, his eyes unfocused, as if he hadn't even heard me. His face was etched with exhaustion and pain, the strength and authority he once had long gone.

Ever since she left, he had become an empty shell, as if his soul had been sucked out, drowning in a deep, bottomless despair.

"Tobias..." he muttered in a low, hoarse voice, thick with alcohol and suppressed agony. "Why... why did it come to this?"

I felt a tightness in my chest but forced the sympathy down.

As his Beta, it was my duty to snap him out of this, to remind him of the responsibility on his shoulders—not to let him continue this downward spiral. My voice hardened. "You're our Alpha! The entire pack depends on you, and this is how you're acting? Do you even remember your duty?!"

He closed his eyes in pain, his body twitching slightly as if my words had stung him. He buried his head in his hands, his muffled voice seeping out from between his fingers. "Duty... Do you think I don't want to? Do you think I haven't tried? But she's gone, Tobias. She's gone..."

I frowned, my heart shaking slightly.

There was a helplessness and vulnerability in his eyes, like he was lost in an endless darkness and couldn't find his way out. I had never seen him like this before, and it stirred a strange fear in me.

He tilted his head back, a hint of tears rising in his eyes, his voice trembling. "Why... why does it hurt so much? Why does losing her feel like losing part of myself? This isn't supposed to happen. I thought I could handle anything, even death... But now, I feel worse alive than dead."

I knew that losing a mate could be a devastating blow to any pack member, but for an Alpha, the Bond with his mate was even deeper, more profound.

"I understand," I said slowly, my voice low but firm. "You've lost her, and that's an unavoidable hurt. But you're still alive, and your packs need you. You can't let this pain consume you completely."

His gaze was distant, as if my words barely registered, lost somewhere deep in memories and self-torment. I realized then that I couldn't save him with words alone. He was too far gone, too obsessed with the pain of losing her to grasp even a moment of clarity.

A sense of helplessness washed over me. As Beta, I had stood by his side countless times, watching him fight fearlessly on the battlefield, through thick and thin. But now, he had fallen into a vortex of emotions he couldn't escape from.

"You know, Tobias..." he suddenly raised his head, his tone laced with icy mockery. "Maybe this is fate's punishment. I thought I was in control, that I could bend fate to my will, even decide whether she would stay or go... but I was wrong. Fate never lets us be the master."

"Stop saying such pointless things!" I snapped, cutting him off, anger rising in my chest. "You think this is fate's punishment? No! It's just you running from your own failure! You didn't cherish her while she was alive, and now you regret it when it's too late. This isn't fate—this is your choice!"

He froze, his eyes widening, as if my words had struck him. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn't muster a sound. I knew my words were harsh, but they were the truth he needed to face.

"Do you want to know why you're in pain?" I continued coldly. "Because you're too afraid to face your failure. You failed—completely! You didn't protect her, you didn't appreciate her, and now she's gone. You need to admit that!"

He stood there, as if struck by lightning, his whole body recoiling. I looked at him, anger and disappointment churning inside me. I had always thought of him as an invincible Alpha, someone who could weather any storm. But now, he was crumbling under the weight of his own emotions.

"You know," I spoke softly, breaking the tense silence. My voice was calm, though heavy with thought. "Sometimes I wonder if we really are bound by fate. Have you ever wondered why you chose to save Vivian and adopt her back then?"

Giovanni frowned slightly, clearly not expecting me to bring up Vivian. He lifted his glass, downing the last sip of wine before answering, his voice cold and distant. "She was a child, and at the time, I thought she was innocent."

I looked at Giovanni. There was a time when I believed his words, but now I understood there was a deeper emotion hidden beneath them.

"Do you really think you adopted her just because she's innocent?" I sighed softly, my gaze sharpening. "Or was it because of her eyes?"

Giovanni's expression froze, his fingers trembling slightly, as if I had touched a hidden, secret part of him. He furrowed his brow, struggling to stay alert, but it was obvious that the alcohol had clouded his thoughts.

My eyes never left his face. I knew my words were beginning to reach him. "Her eyes... they look a lot like Fern's."

At that moment, Giovanni flinched. He looked at me, his gaze filled with a storm of emotions—shock, pain, guilt, all tangled together.

"What are you saying?" Giovanni asked in a low voice, his tone edged with anger and denial.

I didn't rush to answer. I let the silence hang between us, giving him a moment to grasp the truth for himself. After a while, I spoke again, slowly. "Maybe you never realized it, but Vivian's eyes, her demeanor, they've always reminded you of Fern. The part of her you couldn't bear to face, but couldn't let go of. You loved Fern, but you were too afraid to admit it. You buried that emotion deep inside, and when Vivian appeared, you subconsciously recognized it."

Giovanni's breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling erratically. He gripped the cup in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "That's impossible..." he muttered, his voice thick with doubt and inner turmoil.

"You never admitted your feelings for Fern," I said, my voice calm but cutting through his defenses like a blade. "You were scared—scared of the pain love might bring, scared she'd betray you, scared you'd be completely destroyed by it."

Giovanni clenched his eyes shut, as though trying to block out the flood of memories.

"She died... because of me..." His voice trembled uncontrollably.

I watched him silently, my own heart heavy with sadness. I could see how deeply the pain was consuming him—the kind of pain that could break a person entirely.

"You've spent so long running from your feelings, but now it's too late." There was a note of resignation in my voice, a soft sigh.

"I loved her..." Giovanni finally whispered, his voice raw and filled with anguish.

I said nothing in return, just observed him. I knew how hard it had been for him to say those words.

But the truth was, his love had come too late.

"I know it doesn't change anything now, but you need to learn how to let go," I said gently, a note of encouragement slipping into my tone. "She wouldn't want you to keep living in this pain."

Giovanni didn't reply. He just sat there in silence.