All Yours, Alpha Daddy

Chapter 1

Yasmin’s POV

Beep Beep Beep!

The steady, rhythmic beat of the life support machine was the only sound in the room, until it suddenly broke into a frantic, high-pitched screech.

My eyes flew open. I scrambled up from the stiff vinyl chair beside my father’s bed, my heart instantly hammering against my ribs. The green lines on the monitor were spiking in wild, jagged peaks.

"Dad?" My voice cracked, thick with sleep and sudden terror.

He didn't answer. His chest was heaving in shallow, desperate gasps, and his skin looked completely bloodless.

Panic seized me, freezing the air in my lungs. I spun around and sprinted out of the ward, my sneakers squeaking loudly on the polished floor. "Doctor! Nurse! Anyone, please! His monitor is screaming!"

A team of medical staff rushed past me, their faces grim. One of the nurses placed a firm hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me back into the hallway. "Wait outside, Yasmin. Let us work."

The heavy wood doors swung shut, locking me out.

For the next hour, that sterile hallway became my personal torture chamber. I paced back and forth, my hands trembling so violently I had to tuck them under my arms. I breathed in the suffocating scent of bleach and sickness, praying to the Moon Goddess with every step. He was all I had left in the world.

When the door finally clicked open, the lead doctor stepped out, pulling off his blue gloves.

"You can go back in," he said, his voice quiet. "We stabilized him."

I didn't even thank him. I pushed past and rushed straight to the bedside.

My father looked so small in that massive hospital bed. He had been a proud, unyielding Delta soldier, but nine months of being bedridden had stolen his strength. As I approached, his tired, pain-filled eyes slowly blinked open.

I forced a warm, reassuring smile to my lips, though my throat was tight with unshed tears. I reached down, gently squeezing his frail hand. "I’m glad you’re doing okay, Dad."

He couldn't muster the strength to speak. He just gave me a slow, exhausted nod, his fingers twitching against mine. I climbed onto the edge of the mattress and wrapped my arms around him with extreme care, resting my head against his shoulder. I held him tightly, breathing in his familiar scent of pine and copper, until his breathing slowed and he drifted back to sleep.

Once his grip relaxed, I quietly slipped out of the room to find his doctor.

"What is the way forward?" I asked, keeping my voice low. "Is there anything else we can do for him?"

The doctor sighed, looking down at his clipboard. "Yasmin, his condition is very critical. To be completely honest, his history as a Delta soldier, specifically his years of physical training and active lifestyle, is the only reason he is still fighting. He has a strong heart. Because of that, I actually have some good news for you."

A faint spark of hope lit up in my chest. "What is it?"

"There is a new surgical technique. It is still in clinical trials, but it would drastically accelerate his recovery and get him off the machines. I have a very good feeling about this procedure for Robert." The doctor paused, his expression turning solemn.

"But?" I prompted, my hands clenching into tight fists.

"But it is incredibly expensive. It will cost sixty-five thousand dollars."

The hope in my chest instantly shattered. The breath was completely sucked out of my lungs, leaving me hollow. Sixty-five thousand dollars.

I had just started my first year of nursing school. I didn't have a single penny to my name. I had already sacrificed my dream of going directly to medical school, waiting a whole grueling year just to take the highly competitive nursing scholarship exams hosted by the Pack Academy. I had no savings, no assets, and absolutely no way to raise that kind of money.

When I walked back into Dad’s room, I tried to blink away the tears, but the moment he opened his eyes, he saw right through me.

"What's wrong, Yasmin?" his voice was a raspy whisper.

I let out a long, shuddering sigh and sat back down, taking his calloused hand in mine. "The doctor says there is a new surgery. It could heal you so much faster, Dad. But we can't afford it."

He looked at me, squeezing my fingers with the last of his strength. "I know we ran out of our savings, sweetheart. But we still have the house. You can sell it."

My eyes went wide. "Sell the house? But Dad, where will I go? I vowed I would never go back to my mother, and I would rather starve than look for her again." The very thought of my cruel mother sent a chill of pure dread down my spine.

"I know," he said softly, a fierce, protective glint returning to his eyes. "I will speak to my best friend, Alpha Roman Blackwood. In all my years of service, I have never once asked him for a favor. But he is a man of honor. He will protect you. If you sell the house, you will have a roof over your head at his mansion, and I can rest easy knowing you are safe."

"But Dad," tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, hot and fast, "you worked your entire life for that house. It is your legacy."

"Houses can be rebuilt, Yasmin. You cannot," he whispered, offering me a weak, loving smile. "It is okay. Call the accountant for me. Tell him to come see me tomorrow morning."

I nodded, swallowing the bitter lump of grief in my throat. "I promise you, Dad. I am going to work so hard. I am going to be the best nurse and healer in the entire pack. I will make enough money for both of us, I swear."

My dad's smile widened, and he pulled me into a gentle hug. As we pulled away, he murmured, "Check my phone. Under his contact, you will find his address."

I shook my head slowly. "I don't need to look, Dad. I know the address."

I had been to the Blackwood estate a few times as a little girl, before I was sent away to boarding school for high school. The memory of that sprawling, intimidating fortress of dark stone was burned into my mind.

The next afternoon, the reality of my choice settled heavily on my shoulders.

I stood in front of the towering, glass and steel skyscraper in the heart of the city, the home of The Blackwood Consortium. It was the corporate throne of Roman Blackwood, the most feared Alpha in the territory.

Taking a deep, stabilizing breath, I walked through the grand glass doors. The security guards at the front desk were former Delta soldiers, men who had bled alongside my father in battle, and they recognized me instantly. With respectful nods and sympathetic murmurs about my father’s health, they bypassed the strict security protocols and sent me straight up to the private top floor.

The elevator ride was silent and incredibly fast. When the doors slid open, I found myself in a massive, minimalist penthouse lobby. At the very end of the hall stood a set of double mahogany doors.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around the cold brass handle.

I pushed the door open.

And the breath was completely sucked from my lungs. What I saw inside left me utterly frozen.