The Alpha's long lost heir
Chapter 146: The stark truth

Chapter 146: The stark truth

"Now I have destroyed the one person who ever made me feel what I have always wanted to feel."

Oberon staggered backward, feeling an overwhelming weakness wash over him. He bit his lip, his eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and sadness.

"How could you be so... Why did you not refuse her? You had to betray her trust?!" he shouted, making a move to charge at Neriah.

But Neriah quickly stepped in, raising a hand to stop him. "Wait... I... think she might be pregnant," he said, his voice faltering as he avoided Oberon’s piercing gaze.

Oberon stopped short, furrowing his brows in disbelief. "What?"

Neriah nodded slowly. "She... all I want is for her to come home with me. Trust me when I say I mean no harm to her," he pleaded, his tone desperate.

Oberon turned away abruptly, clenching his fists as he struggled to control the urge to attack. "She is not going anywhere with you!" he growled, his voice trembling with restrained fury.

Here’s the expanded scene with more depth and detail, aiming for approximately 1000 words:

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Neriah wiped his face, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders. "Please... you do not know how much this means to me," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a vulnerability in his tone that Oberon had never heard before, something that hinted at a deeper, more complicated struggle.

Oberon exhaled deeply, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He had always prided himself on his ability to remain calm and collected, but this—this was different. This was a betrayal that cut deep, threatening to unravel everything he had fought to protect. He could feel his rage simmering just beneath the surface, but he forced himself to breathe, letting the anger flow out with each exhale. Finally, he faced Neriah, his expression cold and resolute. "She will not go anywhere with you. I do not know how... but sort it out with your mother," he said, his voice casual yet firm, as if he was discussing something trivial and not the fate of someone he cared about.

Neriah exhaled groggily, his frustration evident in the way he rubbed his temples. "Please... I was on my way to see her, before running into you," he admitted, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. "I know I have made mistakes, but I cannot fix this without her. She is the key to everything."

Oberon’s patience was wearing thin. The casual tone he had managed to maintain was slipping, and the raw, unfiltered emotion was beginning to break through.

He snapped, his voice rising in intensity, "That is none of my business. You wronged her, and I will not let you use her again!"

The words came out like a growl, filled with the protective fury of someone who had been hurt too many times. Without thinking, he pushed Neriah backward, the physical action punctuating his words with a force that left no room for negotiation.

Oberon’s eyes gleamed with a fierce inner light as his body began to shift. His limbs shortened, his muscles rippling beneath his skin like waves. His hands morphed into paws, fingers merging into claws that gleamed like polished ivory. His face elongated, his nose flattening into a snout, and his ears pointed upwards, as if tuning into a distant howl.

Oberon, in his wolf form, slowed his pace as he felt the pull of a familiar connection.

As he reached out with his mind, the world around him seemed to fade, the rustling of leaves and the scent of the earth becoming background noise. He focused on Neriah, his thoughts sharpening into a clear, resonant voice that echoed in Neriah’s mind.

’Neriah,’ Oberon’s voice was calm yet edged with the underlying tension that his lupine form could not mask. ’You have pushed me to my limits, but you must understand—this is not just about what you want. You have endangered her, and for that, I cannot forgive you.’

Neriah flinched at the sudden intrusion into his thoughts, the force of Oberon’s presence overwhelming. He had expected anger, but the clarity and coldness of Oberon’s telepathic voice struck him harder than any physical blow.

"I do not need your excuses," Oberon continued, his voice growing stronger, more assertive. ’I only need you to understand that if you try to take her, if you attempt to manipulate her again, you will face me. And I will not hold back.’

Neriah, still reeling from the intensity of the connection, tried to respond, his thoughts fumbling as he reached out. ’Oberon, I—’

But Oberon cut him off, his voice a sharp mental growl. "Do not speak. Just listen. I am telling you this now, and I will not repeat myself: She will not be your pawn. She is free to choose, and if you ever try to strip that choice from her again, it will be your last mistake."

The finality in Oberon’s words hung in the air between them, heavy and unyielding. The link between their minds pulsed with the weight of Oberon’s determination, a force of nature that could not be denied.

Then, as quickly as it had formed, the connection snapped, leaving Neriah alone with the echoes of Oberon’s words reverberating in his mind. The silence that followed was deafening, filled with the undeniable truth that Oberon’s warning was not to be taken lightly.

Oberon trotted back to their little house, his paws making barely a sound on the soft earth. As he reached the front doors, he transformed back into his human form, the familiar sensation of his bones and muscles shifting under his skin passing in a rush. He glanced around quickly, hoping no one would see him naked.

He quietly entered the living room, his goal clear—he needed to get back to his room, find some clothes, and avoid any awkward encounters. But before he could take more than a few steps, Dora emerged from the hallway. She froze, her eyes widening in shock before she gasped and quickly turned around, her back to him.

"Why are you naked?!" she almost yelled, her voice high-pitched with surprise.

Oberon groaned inwardly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He grabbed a shawl lying on the nearby chair and hastily wrapped it around himself. It was not much, but it would have to do.

"Sorry," he muttered, wishing he could sink into the floor and disappear.

Dora sighed, a mix of exasperation and something else—something heavier—settling in her expression as she slowly turned back to face him. "Thank goodness you are here. There is something I want to tell you," she said, her voice softening, yet carrying an undercurrent of tension.

Oberon’s brow furrowed as he looked at her. "And what is that?" he asked, trying to focus on her words despite the awkwardness of the situation.

Dora took a deep breath, her hands nervously clasping together. "I think I am pregnant," she confessed, her eyes locking onto his, searching for a reaction.

Oberon froze, the words hanging in the air between them like a weight that could not be ignored.

Oberon stands still, his heart pounding as Dora’s words sink in. For a moment, he just stares at her, the shawl loosely wrapped around his body, suddenly feeling inadequate against the gravity of the situation.

"You’re... pregnant?" he echoes, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dora nods, her face a mix of worry and hope. "Yes, I wasn’t sure at first, but... the signs are there."

Oberon’s mind races. This changes everything—especially with what Neriah had done. "Does mother know?"

Dora shakes her head. "No, I wanted to tell you first."