Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 270: You Still Have Me

It wasn’t a coincidence.

That wax figure in the basement had been a perfect copy of me. Not "similar." Not "inspired by." It was me my face, my posture, even the tiny expressions I made without thinking. Whoever created it didn’t guess. He studied.

For a long time.

Long enough that it could’ve started before my death.

And after I died, he must’ve lost whatever he was chasing. Lost his "muse." Then Riley appeared someone with a face close enough to reopen that obsession and he aimed it right back at me.

It wasn’t affection.

It wasn’t love.

It was hunger dressed up as art.

My skin crawled at the thought of it. The idea of him examining my body like a project, like a thing. The cold focus. The patience. The sick pride of creating something "perfect."

I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight.

"Lewis," I whispered, voice shaking, "what do we do? Whitney is still trapped with Vito. You have to help her."

Lewis’s hands held my shoulders firmly, grounding me. His eyes stayed on mine, steady and sharp.

"Elena, I understand," he said. "But you have to stay calm. Yes, your sister is in a devil’s hands. But Vito... he has some twisted attachment to her. According to what Yael said, she’s not in immediate danger. She’s living well. For now, she’s safe."

I hated how logical it sounded.

I hated that "safe" could still mean caged.

I took a shaky breath. "We need a long-term plan. How do we get Whitney out? If the Blackwells are a nest of monsters, I can’t go back there. That means I can’t even see her again. Have the authorities found anything on them?"

On the surface, the Blackwells were clean. Respectable. Powerful. Without evidence, nobody could storm their territory and drag someone out.

Lewis’s jaw tightened. "Not yet. The only solid trail so far is tied to Bloodshade, and the Blackwells aren’t directly linked to that. That’s exactly why they can stand in public and smile like they’re untouchable."

He rubbed my head gently when he saw my face tighten. "Don’t worry. There’s always a way. The car repair shop incident already exposed part of their operation. Now they’re too cautious to make big moves. If they slip even once we’ll rip the whole thing open."

His voice stayed calm, but dominance pressed through it like a silent promise.

"For now," he continued, "they’ll lie low and wait for the next chance. That’s better for us. It means they’re scared."

He was right.

I shouldn’t be the one panicking.

It should be them.

We’d forced them back. We’d disrupted whatever plan they had. The Morrigans, the Hales none of them could touch us openly right now.

We had the upper hand.

And still... my mind wouldn’t stop.

Maybe that elevator had cameras. Maybe the hallways did too. Vito probably knew I was in that cabinet from the beginning. He wasn’t surprised. He was performing.

Putting on a show.

In my last life, my death had two reasons. I was the Morrigans’ daughter, and Vito needed my heart for Whitney.

But he didn’t know I was back.

And in this life, I wasn’t standing alone.

I was bound to Lewis.

That night, bodyguards were right outside. Vito couldn’t touch me without exposing himself. If he made the wrong move, Lewis would tear him apart politely in public, brutally in private.

So Vito did the next best thing. He played along. He kept Whitney close. He led her away, created a clean opening, and got me out of their space without a scene.

They wanted time to recover.

Which meant we had to move first.

"Lewis," I asked, "what are you suggesting?"

"I’ll monitor the Blackwells closely," he said. "If Whitney is your sister, then Camilla may be the Whites’ missing girl. If we find Camilla, this becomes easier to control."

His gaze sharpened, thinking in angles and outcomes. "We caught her once at Silas’s grave. She won’t go back soon. If Silas’s trail is cold, we follow another. The Blackwells and the Whites are both entry points."

He gripped my hand tightly. "You’re safe for now, but do not be alone with Yael. And if you have to see him, act natural. Don’t give him a reason to suspect you’re onto him."

The bond between us hummed, like it agreed.

"I’ll place a guard at your school," he added. "Quiet, but close."

"Okay," I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. "I understand."

Lewis’s thumb brushed my knuckles. "Elena... give me a little time."

With him beside me, my lungs finally worked right again. The fear didn’t vanish, but it stopped owning me.

Then Lewis’s tone shifted, like he was changing subjects on purpose. "By the way, Grant is back in Snowville. He invited us to dinner tonight."

My stomach tightened.

Before, he and Mom had rushed for a flight. Too many things were left hanging in the air. Now the divorce was final, property division settled, and Grant was back probably to clean up whatever mess remained.

No matter what, he was still the father of this body.

I couldn’t cut that tie cleanly.

"Okay," I said.

When Lewis and I arrived at the restaurant, we didn’t even make it inside.

Lincy was on the ground outside, clinging to Grant’s legs, crying like her world was ending.

"Dad," she sobbed. "Even if you’re not my biological father, you raised me. That bond is real! Do you know how horrible my life is now? I’ll never accept that fat pig as my dad. He doesn’t care about me or Mom!"

I stopped Lewis from opening the door. Something in Grant’s energy felt wrong. Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just... dead.

In the past, Lincy could get anything from him. All she had to do was pout and call him "Dad," and he would fold.

But now Grant stood there with an empty expression, like her tears were just noise.

"So what?" he said coldly. "Should I give you an award for being loyal?"

Lincy’s face crumpled. "I want to be your daughter again. Please take me in. I’ll be good this time. I won’t make you angry anymore."

Grant’s mouth curled into a cruel smile. "You? My daughter? You think you qualify?"

"Dad, I "

He moved so fast it made my instincts jolt.

Grant grabbed her off the ground like she weighed nothing and slammed her against the hood of his car. His hand closed around her throat.

Hard.

Lincy’s eyes widened. Her hands clawed at him as her breathing turned thin and broken.

Grant’s voice came out icy, almost calm. "How dare you talk about being my daughter. Because of you, I lost everything. I have no home. And you still think you deserve one?"

Lincy choked out, "Dad... let go..."

Grant leaned in like he was giving a blessing.

"Don’t worry," he said quietly. "It’ll be over soon. Go to hell and apologize to her."

My blood went cold.

He wasn’t bluffing.

Grant had snapped.

I threw the door open and ran out. "Dad!"

The moment he heard my voice, his body froze.

Like a command landed on him.

I rushed up and placed my hand gently on his wrist. Not fighting. Not challenging. Just steady.

"Dad," I said softly, "let her go."

His eyes flickered, confused for a beat. Then his fingers loosened.

Lincy slid down the car and collapsed onto the ground, gasping like she’d been dragged out of deep water. She clutched her throat, coughing, shaking.

It terrified me, because I could feel it.

Grant truly wanted her dead.

I turned on Lincy with a sharp look. "Get lost."

There were cameras everywhere. If Lincy died here, Grant would be dragged into a cell and never come out. No matter what she deserved, I wouldn’t let him ruin his life like that.

Lincy scrambled to her feet and ran.

Grant stared after her, breathing slowly. He looked thinner than I remembered. His face was hollow. Dark circles bruised his eyes. Even his hair had strands of white now.

The man who once walked like he owned every room... looked like someone who had lost everything and didn’t know what to do with the emptiness.

I knew he caused most of it himself.

Still, a small ache twisted in my chest.

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him gently.

"Dad," I said, voice low, "you still have me."