Mated To The Crippled Alpha

"Whitney!"

Lewis reached me a second too late. Her fingers slipped from mine, and she was gone — over the edge and into the dark below. In that moment, twenty years collapsed into nothing, and I was right back in that old nightmare, watching her disappear all over again.

"No!"

The scream tore out of me, raw and broken across the open cliff. Then the world went black, and I felt my body giving way, no strength left to hold it up.

"Elena!"

Lewis’s voice reached me from somewhere far behind, desperate and fading all at once. I couldn’t hold onto it.

I lost consciousness.

In the dream, I was five years old again. A small figure in the water was waving at me, her voice frantic. "Elena, help me!" I jumped in without thinking and grabbed her hand. People on the shore tried to reach us, but the current was too strong and swept us both away. I held her tight and begged, "Don’t let go. No matter what, please don’t let go."

"Elena, I can’t hold on anymore."

Her face shifted. The little girl in my arms became the Whitney I knew — grown, calm, already at peace with something I couldn’t accept. "Elena, please forget me."

"No, Whitney—"

I jolted awake, gasping, and found myself looking straight into a pair of red, tear-filled eyes.

Lewis pulled me into his arms before I could say anything. He held me like he was afraid I’d disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. "Elena, you almost gave me a heart attack." His voice wasn’t steady. Nothing about him was steady.

I grabbed his shirt and anchored myself to it. "Where is Whitney?"

He took a slow breath. "From what we found at the scene, it looks like Luther and Vito went over the cliff first — they must have fought. Whitney followed them. Elena, you came so close to going over with her. You have no idea."

Before I’d blacked out, I’d heard the sound he made — something I’d never heard from him before, ragged and desperate and completely undone. It hadn’t sounded like Lewis at all.

"I’m sorry," I said quietly. "I passed out. You were just in time."

His arms tightened around me. "Do you know how scared I was? My whole body was shaking. I was terrified I wouldn’t reach you." Even now, as he spoke, I could feel the faint tremor still running through him. I lifted my hand and touched his face gently.

"I’m so sorry, Carl. I wasn’t thinking. All I could see was Whitney. I forgot—" My voice caught. "I forgot I was pregnant."

"Don’t ever do that to me again. Please."

His voice came out rough and full of something that wasn’t quite anger — something closer to grief. After a moment, his hand moved to the back of my head, slow and careful, like he was trying to settle both of us at once. "It’s fine. You’re okay. That’s what matters."

I already knew the answer, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking. "What about Whitney?"

"The cliff wasn’t very high, but the water below was rough. The rescue team has been going in shifts." He paused. "The sea is vast, Elena. You need to prepare yourself."

My fingers curled tight against my palms. That small thread of hope I’d been holding — I felt it go. Deep down, I think I’d known since the moment her hand left mine.

I closed my eyes. "Thank you for not giving up on the search."

She’d made her choice. Maybe she was finally where she wanted to be — wherever Vito had gone.

"Elena, don’t cry. You still have me," Lewis murmured.

I pressed my face into his chest and let the tears come. "I know. I have you and the babies, and I’m grateful — I am. But Whitney was so young. She never got to fall in love again, or become a mother, or stand beside me at our bonding ceremony." My voice broke apart. "She never got to have any of it."

"Elena..."

"Carl, I had her hand." The words came out jagged, barely held together. "I’m not a child anymore. I’m stronger now. I should have been able to hold on. But just like before — I could only watch her go."

"I know." His arms stayed firm around me. "I know you did everything you could. You’re incredible. You didn’t fail her. You didn’t fail anyone."

"I just wanted to protect her," I whispered. "I got her out of that place. I really believed she could start over — that she didn’t need to find love again, she just needed to live. Why was that too much to ask for?"

Lewis wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumb, his touch careful and unhurried. "Everyone walks their own path. For us, being alive feels like enough — but Whitney had stopped feeling that way a long time ago. Vito had become everything to her. Elena," he said quietly, "if it had been me who fell — would you have hesitated?"

I didn’t answer. The weight of it settled over me, heavy and honest.

"This was Whitney’s decision," he continued. "Even you couldn’t have changed that. No one could have. You did everything right. Don’t carry this like it’s your fault."

"I know you’re right," I said. "I do. But knowing doesn’t make it easier. The hardest part isn’t losing her when I had no hope — it’s losing her when I thought she was finally safe. That face of hers, so full of life, so stubborn and warm..." I swallowed hard. "It’s just gone. If I’d known how it would end, I would have rather been the one lost all those years ago. Maybe then she’d still be here."

"Don’t say that." His voice went low and firm, the kind that carried the full weight of an Alpha’s restraint pulled tight. "How do you think I would survive without you?"

He stroked my back slowly. After a moment, his voice softened again. "You’ve been asleep for over ten hours. I didn’t want to wake you. Mrs. Morrigan arrived a while ago and has been waiting outside. Whitney sent her a farewell message before — so I told her everything. She won’t leave until she sees you."

I wiped my face and steadied myself. "Let her in."

"You’re still weak. Stay in bed. I’ll bring her to you and get you something to eat."

A few minutes later, the door opened.

She looked so much older than her years. She’d once been the kind of woman whose presence filled a room, but the person standing in the doorway now was bent and worn down, her hair gone gray in what felt like no time at all. Half a year of grief had done to her what decades hadn’t.

The ones who are left behind — they’re the ones who carry it the longest.

There was a time I’d wanted her to feel this. When I thought she hadn’t cared, some bitter part of me had wanted her to face exactly this kind of loss. Now, watching her cross the room with slow, uncertain steps, looking like a stranger in her own body, I didn’t feel any satisfaction. I just felt tired.

Her voice came out small and hesitant. "E — Elena..."

The tears I had only just managed to stop began falling all over again.