After My Alpha Rejected Our Dying Son

The night before the drill, Calvin couldn't sleep.

I heard his bare feet on the cold floor. Then a soft knock. He never just walked in. Not even into my room.

"Mama? Are you awake?"

"Come here, baby."

He climbed onto my narrow cot and tucked his knees under his chin. The Omega quarters had no heat. I pulled my thin blanket around both of us. He was shivering. He was always shivering now.

"I can't stop thinking about tomorrow," he whispered. "What if I'm slow? What if Papa hears I was slow?"

"Then you'll be slow," I said. "Slow is fine. Slow means careful."

He didn't look convinced. Instead, he opened his fist.

It was the wooden wolf. I had gone back for it the morning after I left it on Fiona's table. I'd slipped it under his pillow before he woke up. He'd hugged me so hard that day, I almost cried.

Now it looked different. He held it up to the moonlight from the window.

"Look," he said. "I fixed it."

On the wolf's flank, he had carved a tiny crescent moon. It was crooked. One tip was thicker than the other. He must have worked on it for hours with that dull kitchen knife.

"It's beautiful," I said. And I meant it.

"I named him." He turned the wolf in his small fingers. "His name is Silver."

"Silver?"

"Because silver is the strongest color." He said it like it was a fact everyone knew. "Gold is pretty. But silver is strong. Silver doesn't break."

Something in my chest went very quiet. That old, deep thing that had growled at the banquet stirred, just once. Like it had heard its name.

"Who told you that?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Nobody. I just know."

He yawned. His head dropped onto my shoulder. "When I get my wolf, I want him to look like Silver. Then Papa will see."

I couldn't answer. I just held him.

He fell asleep in a few minutes, still holding the wooden wolf. I didn't move. I watched his chest. It rose and fell, rose and fell. So thin. So shallow. Like a bird's.

I bent my face to his hair. Sweet rain. Cedar bark.

And under it, that bitter metal smell. Like an old coin. Like a warning I couldn't read.

I stayed awake until the window turned gray.

---

The drill started at dawn.

Omegas weren't allowed near the tower. I stood at the edge of the training ground with the other servants, my hands wrapped in my apron. The wind was strong today. It came off the hills and moaned around the old stone.

The watchtower looked taller than I remembered. Gray. Cracked. That narrow walkway at the top, and that low wall. Waist-high on a child.

*Ledge.*

Gamma Silas clapped his hands. "Up! Go! Show me what you've got!"

Camden went first. Of course he did. His combat leathers were black with gold thread, made just for him. He climbed the outer handholds like he was born on them. Fast. Smooth. The pups below cheered.

Calvin went last.

He was wearing Camden's old training shirt. It hung off his shoulders. He reached for the first handhold and pulled. His arms shook right away.

Other pups passed him. One kicked loose a pebble that bounced off his head. He didn't stop. He kept climbing.

I knew what other pups felt when they climbed. Their wolves woke up inside them. Gave them strength in their arms, sureness in their feet. Calvin had nothing. His wolf never answered. Every inch he gained, he gained alone.

"Come on, baby," I whispered. "Slow is fine."

He reached the top. He pulled himself over the wall onto the walkway. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Then Silas turned away.

A little girl at the base had slipped. She was crying. Silas walked over to fix her grip. He had his back to the tower. He was talking. Laughing a little.

Nobody was watching the top.

Nobody but me.

---

Up on the parapet, Camden walked toward Calvin.

He didn't hurry. He just walked. Calvin backed up a step. Then another. His back hit the outer wall. The north corner. Where the wall was lowest.

My feet started moving before my mind did.

The wind screamed across the territory. It pulled at Calvin's too-big shirt. It whipped his hair across his face.

Camden leaned in close. His mouth was near Calvin's ear. He said something.

I couldn't hear it. Nobody could. Later, people would argue about the words.

But I saw my son's face.

It crumpled. Not like a pup who got scared. Like a pup who just lost something. Like someone reached inside him and took the last thing he had.

His hand went to his pocket. To Silver.

"*Calvin!*" I screamed.

Camden put both hands on his chest.

And pushed.

It wasn't a stumble. It wasn't an accident. I saw Camden's elbows lock. I saw him lean his whole weight into it.

Calvin went over the wall.

He didn't scream. That's what I'll remember forever. He didn't make a sound. He just fell. His arms reached for nothing. His shirt filled with wind.

I was running. I was running and I was too far and I knew I was too far.

He hit the stone courtyard.

The sound was small. Flat. Wet.

And every wolf on the training ground went silent.