An Alpha's Forbidden Mate-Chapter 36: Angry Father

Chapter Thirty Six

The streets of the human territory were alive with the frantic hum of rush hour, the sound of car horns and bustling crowds creating a vibrant symphony of urban life. But inside Liam’s home, the air was stagnant, heavy with the suffocating silence of a tomb. The once-stately residence of the Mayor had become a hollow shell, much like the man currently slumped on the velvet sofa.

Liam sat in the dim light of the living room, a half-empty bottle of expensive wine dangling from one hand while the other clutched a crumpled photograph of his daughter, Stephanie. He looked at her bright, frozen smile until his vision blurred. Hot, bitter tears traced tracks through the grime on his face. He tilted the bottle back, gulping the liquid until he choked. A violent spasm seized his chest, and he leaned forward, vomiting onto the expensive fabric of the couch. He didn’t even flinch. He simply stared at the mess with the glazed eyes of a man who had already lost his soul.

From the top of the stairs, Bella watched him. For days, she had tried to be the pillar. She was a wonderful wife, a woman of grace and resilience, but today, something inside her finally snapped. Seeing her husband—the Mayor, a man of power and prestige—wallowing in his own filth was a sight she couldn’t stomach.

She descended the stairs, her footsteps echoing. "Liam," she whispered, her voice trembling. She reached the sofa and grabbed a towel, her heart breaking as she saw the sheer patheticness of his state. "Liam, look at you. Let me help."

As she reached down to clean the vomit from his trousers, Liam’s hand shot out, pushing her away with a clumsy, violent force.

"Get away from me," he rasped, his voice thick with alcohol and venom. "You... you slut. It’s all your fault." He hiccuped, the sound wet and jagged.

Bella froze, the towel clutched in her hand. "Liam, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying." She reached out again, trying to steady his swaying frame.

"I said get away!" he roared, shoving her harder this time. She stumbled back, hitting the coffee table. "You lost her! She’s gone, she’s rotting somewhere, and yet you keep smiling? You keep walking around like everything is fine ? What is wrong with you, woman? Do you even have a heart?"

Bella stood up, her face pale, but she forced her features into a mask of desperate positivity. It was her only defense against the darkness. "We have to stay positive, Liam. We have to! The police are on the job. They’re searching every lead. They’ll find her. They’ll get our daughter back to us. We just have to believe."

Liam let out a hollow, mocking laugh. "The police?. You’re delusional." He struggled to his feet, swaying dangerously. "You know what? Get out."

The words hit Bella like a physical blow. "Wait... what?" Her composure, so carefully maintained for days, began to fracture.

"I said get out," Liam repeated, his eyes cold and bloodshot. "I think I need a break. From you. From this whole ’kidnapped daughter’ shit. I can’t look at your face anymore."

"What do you mean you need a break?" Bella shouted, the dam finally breaking. She pointed at the wedding ring on her finger, her voice rising to a scream. "We are married, Liam! We are a team! We don’t get ’breaks’ when things get hard! Our daughter is missing, and you’re throwing me out?"

" I am the man of the house, if i say I need a break, then I’ll take one," Liam hissed, leaning into her space. "Now pack your things and leave before I lose what’s left of my mind."

"Fine!" Bella screamed, her voice cracking. "Fine! You want to be alone in this filth? Have it! I’ve had enough of this bullshit. Since the day Stephanie was taken, you’ve barely spoken her name. I thought you cared too much to speak—I thought your silence was grief. But it turns out you don’t care at all. You’re a coward, Liam!"

She stormed into the bedroom, her hands shaking so violently she could barely zip her purse. She didn’t pack a suitcase; she didn’t care about the clothes or the jewelry. She just wanted out. As she marched toward the front door, Liam’s hand clamped onto her wrist.

"Pack your clothes too," he said, his voice flat.

Bella ripped her arm away, her eyes flashing with a hatred he had never seen before. "Keep them! I hope they remind you of the woman you threw away!"

She slammed the door so hard the glass panes rattled. The sound echoed through the house, followed by a terrifying silence. Liam stood by the door, the drunk facade slipping away like a mask. He sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands as a low, guttural sob escaped his throat.

"I’m sorry, Bella," he whispered into the empty hallway.

"Do you regret it?"

The voice was cool and dry. Liam didn’t look up. He knew who it was. Standing in the shadows of the dining room was Michael, a tall man with skin the color of deep mahogany. He was dressed in a long, charcoal wool coat and a deerstalker-style hat—a modern, sharp interpretation of a classic detective’s attire. He puffed on a sleek, wooden smoking pipe, the scent of expensive tobacco filling the room.

Liam stood up, his eyes filled with a cold, terrifying fury. "Not as much as Phillip will regret ever messing with me."

Liam walked toward a large, ornamental stag head mounted on the wall. He reached up, grasping the right horn, and pulled it downward like a lever. A series of heavy, mechanical clicks vibrated through the floorboards, and with a hiss of ancient hydraulics, a section of the wall receded and slid aside.

Twin blades emenating a faint, predatory red aura sat in velvet-lined racks. Beside them lay reinforced leather combat gear, specialized high-caliber handguns, vials of poisonous herbs, and a row of silver-etched stakes. This was not the office of a Mayor; it was the armory of a hunter.

"So you got my message," Liam said, checking the action on one of the pistols.

"Yeah," Michael said, stepping into the light. "Immediately. I had to pull some strings to get back across the border. But are you really sure it was a good idea to kick Bella out like that? She’s a good woman, Liam."

Liam picked up one of the red-aura blades, flicking the edge with his thumb. He closed his eyes, listening to the high-pitched, harmonic hum the steel produced. "If I didn’t act like a monster, she wouldn’t have left. I need her far away from this house. Phillip is coming back, and I won’t have her used as a bargaining chip again. I need her safe until I get Stephanie back and put Phillip in the ground."

Michael sighed, puffing out a cloud of blue-grey smoke. "Alright. Whatever you say. You always were the better strategist."

"Where is he, Michael?" Liam asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

"It was a nightmare tracking him," Michael admitted, leaning against the hidden doorframe. "The man is a ghost. No birth certificate, no tax records, no digital footprint. He literally doesn’t exist in any system I have access to. It’s like he dropped out of the sky."

Liam turned, his eyes burning. "Did you find him?"

"Yeah. I found him," Michael said. "He’s holed up in an underground bunker in the Alaskan wilderness. High-altitude, heavily fortified, and shielded against most standard Ki-sensing techniques."

"When do we leave?"

"Tonight," Liam replied, sliding the twin blades into the sheaths on his back.

"Wait, wait a minute," Michael said, taking the pipe out of his mouth. "Tonight? Liam, you’re the Mayor. If you disappear, the city will go into a frenzy. There are meetings, press conferences—"

"My daughter is missing, Michael!" Liam roared, the red aura of the blades flaring in response to his temper. "The city can burn for all I care. We leave tonight."

Michael looked at his old friend, seeing the desperation etched into every line of his face. "Alright. I owe you my life, Liam. Ever since you pulled me out of the fire during Decap 1, I’ve been in your debt. I’ll follow you to the gates of hell. But I have to tell you the truth: I know you want to save her, just don’t ruin your life—or your soul—in the process."

Michael turned and vanished back into the shadows, leaving Liam alone with his weapons. Liam ran a hand over the leather gear. "Once Phillip is gone," he whispered, "I’ll have my family back."

Across town, Bella pulled her coat tight against the biting wind as she entered the lobby of a mid-range hotel. The neon sign buzzed overhead, casting a flickering light over the worn carpet. She felt numb, her mind a fog of grief and confusion.

She approached the reception desk, where a young woman with a bored expression was tapping on a computer.

"Hi," Bella said, her voice sounding small. "I need a room."

The receptionist looked up, her expression softening slightly when she saw Bella’s red-rimmed eyes. "Of course, ma’am. It’s four hundred dollars per night. How long will you be staying with us?"

Bella opened her purse, staring at her credit card. "I... I don’t know," she whispered. "A few days. Maybe longer."

"Rough night?" the girl asked, sliding a registration form across the desk.

"You could say that," Bella replied, her hand trembling as she signed the paper.

As she waited for the key, Bella’s mind drifted back to the night Stephanie was taken. The memories were foggy, shrouded in a strange, unnatural mist. She remembered the sound of the front door opening, the cold draft, and the shadow of a man. But there was something else. A man had come to their house a few days before—a man Liam had seemed terrified of.

Wait, she thought, her eyes widening. Liam knew. He knew they were coming.

"Ma’am? Your card?" the receptionist said, holding out the plastic key.

But Bella didn’t take it. She turned and ran out of the lobby, her mind suddenly crystal clear. She didn’t need a hotel room; she needed answers. She flagged down a passing yellow cab, sliding into the back seat before the driver could even say hello.

"The police station," she barked. "And hurry!"

The cab zoomed off into the neon-lit night, leaving the hotel behind. Bella clutched her purse, a new, cold resolve hardening in her chest. If Liam wasn’t going to tell her the truth, she would find it herself.