Alpha Brocks Mate

Chapter Two: Patrick O'Malley's Rescue: A Knight in a Shining Taxi

The fear of meeting my mate was stronger than the regret of turning down the best interview I'd ever arranged. Driven by survival instincts and the strength of my human form, I ran faster than any normal human could.

My heart pounded loudly, as if signaling the approach of death right behind me. I felt sick at the thought of Brock Simmons with another she-wolf, yet I was irresistibly drawn to him, trapped by a dangerous allure.

Aurina was heartbroken, she had been so excited about finding a mate, unlike my own feelings. She retreated for a short time at the thought of hers and my unfaithful mate.

Losing my internship troubled me deeply since it was key to my graduation next year. Now, I was in a tough spot, considering begging my father for help, which would mean returning to the constraints of family obligations and enduring daily rides with him. This unwanted future loomed over me, all because I needed to avoid Brock Simmons to keep my life from falling apart.

Born to a wealthy hotel tycoon, I found little comfort in our posh world where only the elite stayed. That is why I asked our father to make certain our hotels around the world would open its doors wide for a grand sale on the first weekend of each month, inviting everyone to experience a bit of luxury at an affordable rate.

Those weekends brought crowds, including couples planning their weddings at a discount—a rare treat for those not usually welcomed by high society. My feelings about calling someone a 'commoner' were just a snobby way to feel superior. I couldn't stand that attitude or the people who held it.

My father wasn't the only one in charge of our family business. In our pack, we all worked together like a tight-knit community, each contributing to the group's success. Our wealth was unmatched by any other pack in the country, even though there weren't many of us in our pack.

Earlier, when I had initially arrived for the interview, the parking lot was already full, so I had to leave my car a couple of blocks away.

But even at that distance, my sharp senses picked up the presence of a potential threat. I thought I saw the Alpha's Beta lurking in the shadows. I wasn't about to take any chances; I'd hailed a taxi rather than let the beta possibly spot my license plate and set a trap I couldn't avoid.

Dodging him would mean a roundabout escape, taking a cab to the subway and then slipping back later to get my car without him noticing. It was like a high-stakes game where I had to lose him in the city or become his target.

I had a canister of tacks in my purse for the school board. I carefully scattered them in an "S" shape, ensuring the beta couldn't miss them. His dress shoes were much thinner than sneakers, so he'd feel the pain of each tack.

Aurina's anger felt the tack was a form of revenge against our mate, and she began to laugh, which showed she knew all about the cunning and strategy needed in our world. She understood the excitement of the chase, but sometimes her laughter annoyed me like an unreachable itch, for this laugh was mixed with ire towards Alpha Brock and his pack.

Upon hearing the beta's cries of pain and a threatening growl, I immediately got into the first cab that pulled up in front of my father's luxurious hotel. With a swift motion, I nudged a man aside—too harshly, perhaps, on my urgent mission to escape. "Oh, my goodness, I am so, so sorry," I stammered, my gaze flitting apologetically. "I'm in a bit of a crisis here!"

The heavy car door thudded behind me as I dove into the sanctuary of the backseat. "Drive, now, please!" The words tumbled out with a frantic edge. I took a breath, trying to compose myself. "To the main metro station, if you can. Quickly! There's someone following me, and I can't shake them."

The taxi driver's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, a flash of concern flickered across his weathered face, each crease a testament to a life of untold stories. "Sure thing, lass. Just sit tight," he reassured me with a soothing, authentic Irish brogue. His cap, bearing the insignia of his trade, sat atop a head of silver-gray hair.

My lips curled into a weak smile, gratitude piercing through the panic. "Thank you, sir. Truly."

"Nah, think nothing of it." He glanced back at me, a fatherly twinkle in his eye. "Got daughters myself. Can't be too careful these days."

Curiosity piqued; I leaned forward slightly. "What did you say your name was, sir?"

"Patrick O'Malley at your service," he replied, his accent wrapping around his name like a well-worn coat.

I couldn’t help but giggle—nervous energy mingling with relief. "Your brogue is charming, Mr. O'Malley, and you speak so articulately."

His laughter was rich and reassuring, like the sound of home. "Ah, you're kind to say so."

I withheld my last name, a safeguard, despite his warmth. "Well, Patrick O'Malley, I'm Stephanie. You’re my knight in a shining taxi."

As we weaved through the urban labyrinth, I marveled at his dexterity behind the wheel. Any pursuer would find themselves confounded by his skill.

When we arrived, I retrieved an envelope stuffed with cash I'd drawn for a friend's birthday celebration. Now, at this unexpected turn of events, it seemed right to give it a new purpose. I extended the envelope toward Patrick.

He recoiled modestly at the sight of the crisp bills. "Oh, Stephanie, I can't be accepting this Lassie."

I pressed the envelope back into his hand. "This isn't charity, Mr. O'Malley. You've ensured my safety today. Consider it a bonus with my fare. If you don't accept it, I'll have to send it over to your company, so please..."

Resignation softened his initial refusal. “Alright," he murmured, "You've a generous heart.”

Bittersweet relief washed over me as I exited the cab. Yes, my dramatics were likely uncalled-for, but the freedom I felt was tangible, unshackled from what could have been a life dictated by unwanted bonds.

"Thanks again," he said, offering a business card that seemed small against the day's events. "You know where to find me should you need another ride."

"Thank you, Patrick," I said, our exchange one last time in a morning of intense encounters. "I won't forget this.”

Fumbling with my keys, digging them out of my purse, which is more like a suitcase, black leather, with ties and back straps to carry on my back around campus. The only reason it was still classified as a purse, is that this purse was a designer brand my mother bought, and you could change the back straps to an elegant handle.

My mom loved shopping at quirky, high-end stores, always picking out the most unusual items as gifts—especially for her kids and grandchild. It seemed she took the "be fruitful and multiply" adage to heart.

I used to joke that my dad had reserved an entire floor at the local maternity hospital for her, given how often she was pregnant. My uncle once joked with my dad about keeping away from her, but my dad just playfully pinched her and said he couldn't resist her.

Ugh, hearing my parents talk openly about their attraction to each other is the last thing I want to hear. I always try to change the subject when my friends ask about how they met to avoid their over-sharing.

Tonight, reluctantly, I'm going to ask my dad for an internship, dreading the inevitable strings attached. His terms are never appealing.

When I entered the dining room, which was large enough to seat twenty, I was greeted by the sight of our dinner table, family and friends gathered around it, and my parents, surprised to see me outside my usual monthly visit. Feigning enthusiasm, I asked what was for dinner and said I missed them, laying the charm on thick, hoping to win that internship.

The best part? This internship is 100 miles away from Alpha Brock, which makes my heart soar.

But that elation didn’t last long…