The Alpha’s Human Prey

Paula.

I was getting ready that day for my special night, the one I had dreamed of for so long—yes! My engagement party was finally here. It wasn’t just any ordinary event; it was the culmination of years of love, dreams, and patience. I had spent countless nights imagining this moment, picturing every detail in my mind—the decorations, the music, the food, the glow of happiness that would fill the room. It felt almost surreal to realize that everything I had envisioned was finally coming true. After being in love for what felt like an eternity—four beautiful, transformative years to be exact—with Dave, my soulmate, my best friend, my everything, my father had finally given his approval for us to be engaged. This approval was no small feat, and it made the occasion all the more meaningful. I could barely contain my excitement as I stood before the mirror, carefully applying the final touches to my makeup, my heart racing with anticipation for the night ahead.

You see, my father was not just any man; he was a pastor and held very strict views about almost everything in my life. He was a man of deep faith and unshakable principles, someone who believed in living life with integrity and discipline. His moral compass was as strong as the sermons he preached every Sunday, and his expectations for me were impossibly high. He had always been protective, watching over me like a guardian angel, but he didn’t interfere too much because he had raised me well and placed his trust in my decisions. Still, his standards came with an invisible rulebook, one that shaped every aspect of my upbringing. I often felt like I was walking a tightrope, trying to balance his expectations with my own desires, but I knew deep down that his love for me was the driving force behind his strictness. He wanted what was best for me, even if it sometimes felt like his approval was the hardest thing in the world to earn.

Fortunately, Dave was a wonderful person, kind and respectful. He was the kind of man who restored your faith in humanity, the kind of partner you dreamed about but never believed you’d actually find. He never pressured me to do anything I wasn’t ready for, never once asked me for my virginity before marriage, which only proved how deeply he loved me. In a world that often demanded too much too soon, Dave was patient, understanding, and supportive of my boundaries. His respect for my choices made me feel safe, valued, and cherished in a way I had never experienced before. Every action, every word, every gesture from him seemed to reinforce the idea that he genuinely cared about me—not just as a girlfriend, but as a person with dreams, beliefs, and a future that he wanted to be a part of. His love felt like a sanctuary, a place where I could be myself without fear of judgment or rejection.

We had been in love since we entered college together, both of us the same age, both of us navigating the exciting and sometimes terrifying world of higher education. From that very first moment, we clicked in a way that felt almost magical. It was as though the universe had conspired to bring us together, and from that moment on, we shared the most adorable days filled with laughter and joy. Every day with Dave felt like an adventure, whether we were studying late at the library, grabbing coffee between classes, or sharing quiet moments under the stars. After graduation, he finally asked me to marry him, and without hesitation, I said yes. The proposal was everything I had dreamed of—romantic, heartfelt, and uniquely us. I had no doubt in my mind that Dave was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

However, my father had stringent conditions attached to his approval; he insisted that I graduate with top ranks to give his blessing for the marriage. It wasn’t enough for me to simply finish college—I had to excel, to prove that I was capable of achieving greatness before taking such a monumental step in my personal life. Still, I could sense that my father was not entirely fond of Dave. I never understood why. Dave was everything you could hope for in a partner: kind, responsible, hardworking. But my father’s intuition was sharper than most, and though he never openly voiced his concerns, I could feel his reservations lingering in the background. It was as if he saw something in Dave that I couldn’t—or perhaps he was just reluctant to let go of his little girl. Either way, I was determined to meet his expectations, to prove that I was ready for this next in my life.

Finally, just a week ago, we graduated, and now we were busy preparing for our long-awaited party. It was the culmination of years of hard work, love, and perseverance. We invited all our closest friends and classmates from college, people who had been part of our journey and witnessed our love story unfold. The excitement in the air was palpable, and I could hardly contain my emotions as the day drew closer. Every detail of the party had been meticulously planned, from the decorations to the menu to the playlist. This wasn’t just a celebration of our engagement—it was a celebration of everything we had overcome to get to this point. As I stood in my room, surrounded by the chaos of last-minute preparations, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and gratitude for the life I was about to begin with Dave.

As I applied the final touches to my makeup and admired my reflection in the full-length mirror, clad in a stunning golden-white short dress that sparkled as though it were woven from starlight, my phone rang. The sound jolted me out of my thoughts, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Dave’s name flashing on the screen. Without a moment's hesitation, I answered, my voice filled with excitement. “Yes, sweetheart?” I said, my lips curving into a smile.

“I missed you so much, baby! Please don’t be late—” he said, his voice filled with longing, a warmth that made my heart flutter. There was something about the way he spoke to me, something that made me feel like the most special person in the world.

I gasped, feeling a wave of shock wash over me. “What? You’re not going to pick me up from my parents' house?” I asked, bewildered. He had promised he would come to drive me to the ballroom! It was a promise he had made weeks ago, and I had been looking forward to the romantic gesture.

“Sorry, baby. I need to go for some reason. Don’t be mad at me, please, please,” he replied, his tone apologetic, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his cheesiness. His voice was so endearing, so full of charm, that it was impossible to stay upset with him for long.

“It’s okay, see you at 10 then. You better not be late, or I will be upset,” I warned him playfully, my voice laced with mock sternness. Deep down, I wasn’t really upset—I just wanted to tease him a little for making me wait on such an important day. I pictured him on the other end of the call, probably smiling that goofy, endearing smile of his, the one that always melted my heart no matter what mood I was in. This was supposed to be our night, the night we had waited for and dreamed about for so long. And yet, something about him not picking me up felt… off. But I brushed the thought aside, telling myself I was reading too much into things. After all, there was no reason to doubt him, not on a day like this.

He rushed to reassure me, his voice filled with urgency and sincerity. “I swear I won’t be late! I’ve been waiting for this day for so long!” His words tumbled out so quickly that I could hear the excitement in his tone. It was as if he was trying to convey how important this night was to him, how much it meant to finally be standing by my side in front of all our friends and family. I could almost see him pacing nervously, running his fingers through his hair, trying to make sure everything was perfect. His enthusiasm was infectious, and for a moment, my earlier doubts melted away.

I chuckled happily, feeling my heart flutter in my chest, a warm glow spreading through me as I replied, “Okay, see you then.” My tone was lighter now, the playful edge softening into something sweeter. That was the effect Dave always had on me—he could take my worries and turn them into laughter, make my doubts dissolve with just a few words. As I hung up the call, I couldn’t help but smile to myself, imagining the way his face would light up when he saw me in my dress. This was our night, and nothing was going to ruin it.

After hanging up the call, I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling a mix of happiness and excitement coursing through me like an electric current. Yet, deep inside, a nagging feeling told me to reconsider going to the party. It wasn’t a loud or obvious feeling—just a quiet whisper in the back of my mind, a subtle unease that I couldn’t quite shake. I tried to ignore it, telling myself it was just pre-engagement jitters, the kind of anxiety anyone would feel before such a monumental event. But the feeling lingered, wrapping itself around my thoughts like a shadow I couldn’t escape.

It was strange! Maybe it was just my imagination! But I had always felt a close connection to God, and I was quite religious. My instincts had never let me down before. In fact, I had come to rely on them, trusting that they were a gift from above, a way of guiding me through life’s most complicated moments. And now, as I sat there, trying to convince myself that everything was fine, my instincts were screaming at me to pause, to listen, to pay attention to the unease that was growing stronger with every passing second. I closed my eyes and whispered a silent prayer, asking for clarity, for the strength to make the right decision no matter what it might be.

I snapped back to reality when I heard a gentle knock on my door. Startled, I looked up to see my father stepping closer, his familiar presence instantly grounding me. He pulled me into a warm, comforting hug, the kind of embrace that made me feel like a little girl again, safe and protected from the chaos of the world. “My baby grew up so fast,” he laughed, his eyes shining with pride and a hint of nostalgia. His voice was steady, filled with the kind of love that only a parent could give.

I nodded, feeling a little shy as I tried to smile through the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. “Yes, I guess so—” I began, but my voice faltered. My father had always been able to see right through me, to sense when something was wrong even before I could put it into words. And now, as he looked at me, I could see the concern in his eyes, the unspoken question he was waiting for me to answer.

He cupped my face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm, concern etched on his features as he asked, “What’s wrong? You look worried!” His voice was soft, but there was a seriousness to it that told me he wouldn’t let me brush this off. He knew me too well to be fooled by a forced smile or a quick excuse.

I realized that as my father, he could sense my unease! My eyes must have reflected my turmoil, and my heart raced in my chest; my palms were slick with sweat. I wasn’t okay at all! If anyone else didn’t know that I had been in love with Dave for years, they might assume my father had forced me into this engagement. But the truth was far more complicated. I loved Dave, deeply and truly, but the nagging feeling in my chest was growing harder to ignore, and I didn’t know how to explain it to my father—or even to myself.

I trembled, trying to muster up a smile, but it faltered, crumbling under the weight of my emotions. I sighed deeply, my voice breaking as I confessed, “I don’t know, Father. I think— I don’t— I don’t know why I feel like I’m making a mistake.” The words spilled out before I could stop them, and once they were out, I felt a strange mix of relief and fear. Admitting my doubts made them feel more real, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face what they might mean.

Suddenly, his brows shot up, and he suggested, “Then don’t go! Please! I’ve felt uneasy since I first met Dave! My instincts haven’t changed one bit. Just break up with him. It’s never too late.” His words were firm but not unkind, laced with the same protective love that had defined our relationship for as long as I could remember. But the idea of calling off the engagement now, after everything we had been through, felt impossible.

I blinked in disbelief, pouting my lips in protest as I replied, “Father! Please don’t say that at my engagement party. You’ve already agreed! I do love him! And he loves me even more than I love him!” My voice was tinged with desperation, as if I were trying to convince both him and myself at the same time.

My father shook his head, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Please don’t be sad. I didn’t mean it that way. I just can’t shake off this feeling that something is off about Dave. Anyway— let’s go! By the way, you look absolutely gorgeous,” he added, trying to lighten the mood with a joke and a wink. His attempt at humor didn’t completely ease my anxiety, but it reminded me of how much he cared, and for a moment, I felt a little more grounded.

I nodded, feeling a little reassured, but before we could step into my father’s car, my phone buzzed with a text message. The sound made my heart skip a beat, and I grabbed my phone, curious to see who it was from, only to find a message from an unknown number. My fingers hovered over the screen as I hesitated, a strange sense of dread creeping over me as I opened it.

I opened it, expecting a sweet message from Dave saying he couldn’t wait to see me or something equally loving. Instead, I read the chilling words: “Dave is not in love with you. He has been cheating on you with Elizabeth—your best friend—all the time, and he will never marry you because he loves her. He is only getting engaged to you to make her jealous, then he will throw you away like trash.”

What the hell? This couldn’t be true! It had to be someone who envied our relationship, someone who wanted to ruin my special day. Yes! Elizabeth couldn’t possibly do this to me! No way. My mind raced as I tried to process the message, my chest tightening as a storm of emotions swirled inside me. Could this be real? Or was it just a cruel prank meant to destroy everything I had worked so hard to build?

Paula.

I snapped out of my evil thoughts with a jarring realization, as though I had been shaken awake from a bad dream. My mind raced, and I struggled to comprehend the situation I found myself in. It was so far removed from anything I had ever imagined possible. I had always been too innocent to believe in the existence of people capable of truly horrible, despicable things. My naivety shielded me from the darker truths of the world, and now that shield was breaking. The concept of people doing nasty, cruel things for no apparent reason was beyond my ability to process. Was this really happening? I kept asking myself that over and over again, trying to convince myself that it was all some kind of elaborate nightmare. It felt like I was living in a distorted dream, where everything on the surface appeared perfect and serene, only for the darkness lurking beneath to suddenly claw its way out and reveal its true form. The contrast between what I thought I knew and the grim reality of what was unfolding before me made my head spin. It was as though the ground beneath me, the very foundation I had trusted, was crumbling away into an endless abyss.

My father and my mother were both standing there, looking at me with worry written plainly across their faces. Their concern was evident not just in their voices but in the way their eyes seemed to search my soul for answers. “What’s wrong, Paula?” they asked in unison, their voices trembling slightly, betraying the depth of their worry. I could feel the weight of their love and concern pressing down on me. They cared about me deeply, and their worry only made me feel worse because I couldn’t tell them the truth—not yet, not while everything inside me was still a tangled mess of emotions. I forced myself to shake my head and plaster a wide smile on my face, even though it felt like my heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. “Nothing, my stomach just growls! I think I’m hungry,” I said, my voice light and playful as I tried to deflect their concerns. I even added a small chuckle, hoping it would be enough to convince them that I was okay—or at least pretending to be okay. Deep down, however, I felt far from fine. My insides churned with unease, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand.

But how could I tell them the truth? How could I possibly explain what I was feeling when I wasn’t even sure myself? My father had already expressed his dislike for Dave on multiple occasions. He wanted me to break up with him, though he never gave a clear reason why. I had always found that strange, and it only added to my confusion. Was there something my father knew about Dave that I didn’t? Was he keeping something from me to protect me? The thought made my anxiety skyrocket. If my father had reasons to distrust Dave, why hadn’t he told me? Did he think I couldn’t handle the truth, or was he afraid it would hurt me too much? And if he was hiding something, what could it possibly be? My mind raced with questions, each one more troubling than the last. The possibility that my father knew something terrible about Dave filled me with dread.

No way! There was absolutely no way that Dave could do something so terrible, so utterly unforgivable. I refused to believe it. I trusted him with all my heart. And Elizabeth? She was my best friend, my confidante, my sister in all but blood. There was no way she would ever betray me. I trusted her just as much as I trusted Dave, maybe even more. As these thoughts swirled in my mind, I realized we had arrived at the ballroom—the venue for my engagement party. I was supposed to be happy, excited, overjoyed even. But instead, my heart was heavy with unease. I scanned the parking lot, my eyes darting from car to car, searching desperately for Dave’s vehicle. It wasn’t there. My eyes moved to Elizabeth’s usual spot, but her car was missing too. A faint sense of alarm began to creep over me, though I tried to dismiss it as paranoia.

I don’t know why, but a strange thought suddenly popped into my head. Maybe it was fate, or maybe some unseen force was trying to guide me, to warn me. I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Acting on impulse, I pulled out my phone and called Elizabeth. The phone rang and rang, but she didn’t pick up. Each unanswered ring felt like a tiny dagger stabbing into my chest. My heart sank lower with every second, but I tried to stay calm. Her house wasn’t far from the ballroom, so I turned to my father and said, “Please, father, we still have time. Could you drive me to Elizabeth’s house? I need to check on her. It’s important.” My voice trembled slightly, but I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

To my surprise, my father didn’t argue. He simply nodded, though his expression was tinged with confusion. My mother, on the other hand, stared at me like I had grown a second head. I didn’t offer them any explanation because I didn’t have one. All I knew was that I needed Elizabeth by my side. She was my best friend, my rock, my other half. There was no way I could start my engagement party without her there to support me. It just wasn’t possible. As we drove to her house, I kept calling her phone, but she still didn’t answer. My anxiety grew with every passing second. In a moment of desperation, I even called Dave, but his phone went straight to voicemail. The sinking feeling in my chest deepened.

When we finally arrived at Elizabeth’s house, I jumped out of the car before it had even fully stopped. I rushed to her front door and rang the doorbell frantically, my heart pounding in my chest. No one answered. I rang again and again, but still, there was no response. The house was eerily quiet, and a sense of dread began to settle over me like a heavy blanket. I called out, “Elizabeth! Auntie! Uncle!” but the only answer I received was silence. My father had followed me to the door and was now standing behind me, looking just as uneasy as I felt. “Why are you here?” he asked, his voice low and tense. “She’s not here. Let’s go back.” But something inside me refused to leave.

I remembered that Elizabeth’s family used to hide a spare key under a small statue near the gate. Without hesitation, I bent down and retrieved the key. My hands trembled as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, almost too quiet. I called out again, louder this time, “Elizabeth! Auntie! Uncle!” but still, there was no response. My father followed me inside, his presence a small comfort in the growing darkness of my fear. As we moved through the house, I heard a faint noise coming from upstairs. My heart skipped a beat. “I think there’s a thief up there,” I whispered to my father, my voice barely audible.

We climbed the stairs together, each step feeling heavier than the last. When we reached the door to Elizabeth’s bedroom, I hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. What I saw next made my blood run cold. There, on the bed, were Dave and Elizabeth, completely naked and tangled together in the most intimate way possible. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I couldn’t move or speak. “Dave! Elizabeth!” I finally managed to yell, my voice shaking with a mixture of shock and betrayal.

“You son of a bitch!” my father roared, his anger erupting like a volcano. He lunged toward Dave, but I barely noticed. My eyes were fixed on Elizabeth, who stood up and began dressing as if nothing had happened. Her expression was cold, detached, almost inhuman. “Don’t make a fuss,” she said, her voice icy and indifferent. “He didn’t love you.” Her words cut through me like a knife.

I turned to Dave, hoping, praying that he would deny it, that he would tell me it wasn’t true. But he couldn’t even meet my eyes. Instead, he lowered his head and said, “Yes, I didn’t love you, Paula.” His words hit me like a ton of bricks, shattering the last remnants of my world. In that moment, everything I thought I knew, everything I believed in, came crashing down around me.