A HELPER

ZAILA

Two weeks later

Tap, Tap, Tap.

I look up and see a man tapping on my car window, his flashlight shining in before he moves it around, looking in the back. I put my hand up when the light flashes across my face, blinding me. He quickly moves it to the side.

“Look, I've noticed your car here for nearly two weeks; this is a train station.” He sighs as I pick up my son out of his fruit box bed and roll down the window a bit so he doesn’t keep yelling, thinking I can’t hear him.

“You really have no place to go? No family?” he asks.

“No, the council kicked me out of the park,” I say matter-of-factly.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand down his face before glancing around the parking lot.

“What about the baby’s father?” I shake my head, knowing that isn’t an option.

He didn’t even believe me about the pregnancy—refused to see me, even when I begged him to let me show him the ultrasound pictures.

His father wouldn’t even let me on pack territory when I requested to see him. I still remember when I got his number to call him that first time; what a nightmare that was.

He laughed and said there was no way he would sleepwith a seventeen-year-old.

To be fair, I was not supposed to be in that part of the club at the hotel.

My sister and I wanted to meet the older Alphas, not the young ones that hadn’t even reached puberty.

So with fake IDs, we snuck in while the meeting was going on in the conference hall.

Alpha Brian was just as drunk as I was, so it's no wonder he can’t remember me. I barely remember anything.

What I do remember is how I felt that night—the pull to him for some reason and he must have felt it too. I know I didn’t imagine it.

I spend most of the day just trying to figure out what I can do about money. The security guard’s words eat at me. “This is no life for a child.”

I am failing. I need help and don’t know who to ask. When it starts to get dark, the five o’clock train pulls in.

I try to light my candle so I can see in the growing darkness, but my lighter has finally run out of fuel.

Popping the trunk to get out, I grab my umbrella and glance around, hoping to find someone smoking— someone approachable—to ask to borrow one. “Excuse me, do you have a…” The man in his tailored suit walks past, looking down at me. I try over and over again, ignored by everyone that passes.

Feeling disheartened, I'm about to hop back in the car when I see a younger man in a neat suit.

I've seen him a few times. He catches the early train and is always home on the five o’clock train.

He's always dressed nicely in suits that compliment his brownish blond hair and green eyes, and his muscular build puts him a good foot taller than me.

The man stares at me warily as I approach, and I stop when I feel his aura—he has Beta blood.

He looks familiar for some reason and I finally place him; he is one of the Betas from the Alpha meet.

He's Beta to Alpha Brian . I pretend I don’t recognize him because he definitely doesn’t remember me, and I know he can’t feel my aura.

I've been rogue for so long now, my aura is almost nonexistent. It doesn’t help that I still haven't shifted.

I want to, need to, but what do I do with my son? “Can I borrow a lighter if you have one?” I blurt out quickly before he waves me away; everyone usually assumes I'm asking for money. He stops, staring at me for a second. “Fine,” he says, rustling inside his pocket before handing me a green lighter.

I run back to the car and light the candle that sits on a plate in my vehicle. Only, when I turn around, I find him behind me, having followed me a few yards back to my car.

I jump, not expecting him to be so close.

“Thank you,” I tell him, passing it back. He nods, then begins to leave, walking around the side of my car just as my son cries out.

“Shh, shh, I’m coming,” I whisper, pulling the hatchback down until something stops it.

I turn to see what it caught on, only for it to be pulled open by the Beta. “Is that a baby you have in there?” he asks, and my heart thunders in my chest nervously.

Will he call child services on me? My son cries louder, and I reach for him. The man’s eyes dart to him before he sniffs the air.

I stare back at him, confused, and tug my son to my chest as if he’s threatening to take him away from me.

“It’s only temporary; please don’t call child services,” I tell him, and he cocks his head to the side.

His gaze appears to be more thoughtful than scrutinizing. “Does your car run?” he asks, looking at it before he kicks a tire.

“I have no fuel. I will leave tomorrow, I promise,” I tell him, panicking. Maybe he's a council worker?

I doubt it because of his expensive suit. He looks at me, his nose scrunching slightly. “You smell familiar,” he mutters. I swallow, wondering if he remembers me, but he doesn’t appear to, and I also don’t want him questioning which pack I was from.

My father and his Alpha are not on good terms. Yet, maybe if he could get me in to see Alpha Brian , he might help with his son.

However, that thought also frightens me— having to face the man who ignored me and refused to even do a paternity test. He declined to come check—stating my claims were lies —but if he just met him, he would see.

We can always sense our kin. I stare at the Beta, wondering if he'll leave, but he pushes the hatch back open further before reaching in.

I scoot further back, looking for a weapon in case I need it.

“Calm down. I can’t leave you here knowing you are sleeping in your car with a baby,” he says, grabbing the car seat. “I will leave; just don’t take my son,” I tell him.

He looks at me like I am mad.

“I’m not.” And his eyes mean it.

“I want to help.” He’s being sincere. “You want to help?” I repeat, slightly disbelieving.