Beneath the Alpha's Moon

TERESA’S P.O.V.

The phone buzzed again, slicing through the stillness of the room like a blade. I stared at the screen, the name glowing back at me: Dad. My fingers trembled as I hovered over the answer button.

Lucian’s hand brushed mine, warm and steady, grounding me in the moment. "You don’t have to answer it," he murmured, his voice calm but firm. His blank eyes, though unseeing, seemed to pierce right through me. "It’s your choice."

I swallowed hard. "I need to," I whispered, more to myself than him.

I pressed the green button, my breath hitching as I lifted the phone to my ear. "Hello?" My voice sounded smaller than I intended, almost childlike, betraying the storm of emotions brewing inside me.

"Teresa," came my father’s voice, rough yet calculating. "It’s been a long time."

I froze, the heaviness of his tone pressed against my chest. Memories flooded back—his harsh words, the endless disappointments, the nights I cried myself to sleep. I gritted my teeth and found my voice, though it wavered. "Why are you calling me?"

"I saw the news," he said smoothly, ignoring the bite in my tone. "Congratulations. It’s impressive what you’ve accomplished. I must say, I’m proud of you."

I almost laughed, but the sound got stuck in my throat. "Proud of me?" I echoed, bitterness seeping into my words. "After everything you did to us?"