Alonso Prologue.
When did it start, when did I start to love her, to long for her, to need and want her?
Was it the first day she walked into my room with the messed up hair and baggy sweatpants, or was it the day she accidentally spilled my coffee all over the counter and scrambled trying to clean it up?
I've never been this lost and confused before, never been empty and full at the same time.
I'm longing for her smile and lusting for her touch so much it's driving me crazy, insane.
Furthermore, I've always lived In my bubble after the accident and didn't care for life or anyone around me.
When did I start caring to walk again to be able to fight to be the old me again most of all, when did I start wanting to be more not for me but her?
To take revenge on those who did her, wrong, on those who did me wrong. I have to do it, if not for me for her, but there's a part of me that wouldn't let me, a part of me that keeps holding me back.
Is it shame, fright, my past, or what the future will hold? Would she love me if I was able to walk, or does she rather me this way?
CHAPTER 1 Alonso p.o.v
Do you, Alonso, accept the title of Alpha of Blue Ridge pack? George, my father asked,
“I do,” I replied
“Do you promise to fight for this pack and all its members, young, old, and those seeking refuge?” Father asked.
“I do,” I replied
“Bring forth your right hand.”
He cut the palm of my hand along with his and sealed my fate by placing both mine and his hand together over the bond fire.
Leaving me the alpha of the Blue Ridge pack, one of the strongest and wealthiest packs to have ever established.
Before I became the pack’s Alpha, I was sent abroad to Italy to study art and business.
I left college with honors at the age of twenty-two and returned home to Australia and opened my very first art studio along with a billion-dollar Restaurant.
Making Alonso Matthews, six feet tall with short black hair, a pair of brown eyes, and a honey brown complexion, is one of the richest young men in the world.
It was hard at first to build from the ground up, but it was all worth it in the end, my life was filled with new experiences.
The Art studio took a year and a half to build mainly because I wanted it to look a certain way, I wanted it to look exactly the way my mother drew it.
And once it was finished, she was more than pleased with the way it all turned out, wide doors and slim window frames, three floors, and beautiful chandeliers hung in the center of every floor.
The restaurant is a simple building with perfect white lighting, the chairs, the tables made from pink ivory wood, and the walls decorated with photos from my art museum along with photos of my family.
I remember the first time I saw these photos when they were just taken of felt happy, joyous, and excited, but most of all I felt proud of what I had accomplished.
But now I’m sitting here looking at those photos again, and I feel nothing but sadness, the photo of my bloody palm when I took over as Alpha.
The photo of my art studio opening, and the photo of my mom and dad cutting the ribbon at Blue Ridge fine dining Restaurant.
Why do I feel sad?
Mainly because if I had known I would have ended up in a wheelchair paralyzed from the waist down, I would have just enjoyed my life, and lived it to the fullest.
If I had known I would have lost my mother on that fateful day, I would have spent more time with her. I would have taken her out to the places she loved more instead of rescheduling our late-night dinners and our midday calls.
But I didn't know any of those things, I didn't think life would hit me with a moving truck and slow me down. Literally.
“Come on, son, your father and I have a surprise for you.” Mariah, my father's second chance mate, called.