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PAUL

A s I pat Amaya's back trying to get her to breathe, I'm thrust into so much goddamn regret that I wasn't there for her when she was a baby. With her mouth wide open, gasping for air around the panic seizing her lungs, I wish like hell I would have been there to cradle her against my chest as I burped her.

But I failed as a father in every sense of the word. I wasn't there for anything . Except now I'm here for one of the worst moments of her life, and I can't break. I won't. She needs me. Amaya needs me to be the dad she's always wanted. Always needed. I may never deserve her, but I'm going to do everything in my power to be worthy of my beautiful girl.

My chest constricts as I watch her struggle and cry out for her mates, but I keep forcing my heart to beat and my lungs to work. I have to be strong for her, even though all I want to do is scream and kill someone like Sam and Vincent.

"Amaya, you need to fucking breathe!"

My daughter fought for her life only for her mates to crush her fucking heart when they decided vengeance was more important not two seconds after she opened her goddamn eyes.

Her panicked eyes dart around, hope leaking from them in salty tears as the guys continue to struggle. I want to roar and pummel the four of them, but Amaya is more important. She won't take a fucking breath!

An extra tussle out of the corner of my eye distracts me for a moment when Vincent manages to escape Emmett's hold on his shirt. "Don't fucking do it," I mutter to myself, fearing that Vincent will take the opportunity to bolt.

He doesn't make it more than one step before Amaya breaks in my arms and tosses herself in his direction. "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE M-ME!"

"FUCK!" Cursing myself for being distracted by those assholes, I scramble to catch her, but she's already hitting the dock with a pained whimper and a muffled plea for her alpha to come back.

"AMAYA!"

"Sir! Move!"

Uncertain who's shouting now and not giving a shit, I pluck my daughter out of the puddle and cradle her to my chest, only to find her eyes closed and neck limp. My stomach drops and my throat closes over on a choked cry until her chest rises.

"Darling..." I shudder, running my fingers over her cold cheeks.

"Sir, I need to get her moved," a feminine voice snaps.

I lift my head, noticing a woman with a stretcher hovering over us with a stern expression and a team of other EMTs behind her. Nodding and ignoring my daughter's four mates now crashing to their knees beside me, I take one final moment to watch the rise and fall of her chest.

I'll just be thankful she's breathing . If I think too hard about what happened to my poor girl, I might completely break. I'm a dad now. Dads have to be strong for their little girls.

The image of Amaya's limp form being gingerly plucked from my arms plays continuously in my mind. I can still feel the ocean water dripping from her dangling hair as she rose above me. Parting with my daughter and watching her limp form be rolled off the dock and into the back of the ambulance did something to me.

The life I knew is over and I wouldn't have it any other fucking way.

Everything that matters in the world is currently being hauled across Virginia Beach under flashing lights. In the wake of the screaming sirens, Emmett and I speed to keep up.

My hands squeeze the steering wheel, the salt water having leached all the moisture from my skin. Keeping my eyes glued to the back of the ambulance, I let my alpha dad energy take the wheel in my mind.

If my hands are dry just from holding Amaya, then her skin is going to be miserable, right? Fuck, I'm not good at this. This is exactly why I bought her a damn house—I'm not equipped to be a father.

"You're a good dad, Paul."

I whip my head toward Emmett who just uttered his first words in I don't even know how fucking long. Kid is going through it.

He offers me a small, sad smile. "You mumble when you’re stressed."

To that, I grumble and keep my eyes on the road ahead. "I'm most definitely not a good dad, Emmett. I bought her a house not even a few weeks after she got out of rehab and never went to check on her."

As I say the words, more of my failures start waving around in my head like red fucking flags. My mistakes come tumbling out one by one. "I wasn't there when she was born. I never fed her or held her. She was sent to that fucking academy, SOLD actually, by her MOTHER. Emmett, I am the worst fucking dad. When I finally had the chance to have her in my life, instead of giving her all of my effort, I move her out without even making sure it's what she wanted. I stole that choice from her because I thought it was what was best. I forced her to be alone because I didn't feel like I was good enough for her. And I didn't even try to be good enough for her."

He's silent, but I can feel his stare burning a hole into my right cheek. I continue, my heart bleeding for the daughter I let down.

"I might as well be just as bad as her fucking mom. Kate warned me, you know... they all did. Amaya was struggling so much and I physically pushed her away. She was stubborn and kept to herself when I brought her home, but I never really thought about why . What father doesn't even try to see it from his kid’s point of view before they make a decision for them?"

"Paul—"

I shake my head, making a sharp turn at the same time. "There's nothing you can say, kid. You won't change my mind or how I feel because everything I said is true. I'm going to do better. I'm going to be Amaya's dad. One she loves and leans on. So don't placate me, okay?"

"Alright," he says and when I glance over at him, his brows are drawn down in thought.

"Now, tell me what's going on with you." It's not a question, it's a demand. We all have to be strong for Amaya, and I think Emmett's going to need a swift kick in the ass to figure it out.