Alpha, Could You Break Your Bond with Me?

We put our hopes to the moon goddess and waited patiently for the healer. Noah was trembling in my arms, and every shallow breath he took chipped away at my sanity. The fever that had gripped his tiny body was relentless, and nothing I did could ease his suffering. Every second felt like a lifetime. The silence in the room was thick, suffocating, broken only by the occasional, ragged gasp from my son.

“Why isn't he here yet?” Delia muttered under her breath, pacing back and forth, her eyes flicking towards the door as if willing the healer to appear.

The sun dipped below the horizon, its final light casting long shadows across the floor. But still, no healer. By the time he arrived, it was too late. I already knew. I could feel it in my bones. Noah’s body had gone still, unnaturally still. The pain had left him, and with it, the light from my world.

The healer, Martin, rushed in, his face flushed with urgency. But one look at my face and his steps faltered. "Luna, I’m so—"

“Don’t,” I cut him off, my voice hollow. “It wasn’t your fault.”

And it wasn’t. Noah’s illness wasn’t something a healer could fix. I had clung to hope, to the belief that somehow, something could be done. But whatever had taken hold of him was beyond anything Martin or any other healer could have managed. If I had been stronger, smarter—if I had gotten specialists to check on him earlier—maybe Noah would still be here. But those thoughts were useless now. He was gone.

My throat constricted as I clutched Noah’s cold hand, the tiny fingers I used to stroke to lull him to sleep now stiff with death. I had brought him into this world, and all I had done was watch him suffer. I failed him. My sweet, innocent boy.

I wailed. It was the kind of sound that comes from the deepest part of you, the kind that steals your breath and leaves you gasping for air that no longer feels worth taking in. I clung to his body, wanting nothing more than to follow him. He deserved a better life than this. A life full of laughter, not pain.

Delia stood beside me, her own tears flowing silently down her cheeks, and Martin’s head hung low. They were grieving too, but I barely registered them through the haze of my sorrow.

At some point, the tears dried up, though my heart still felt like it was bleeding. I rose on shaky legs, my body feeling like a ghost of itself. I needed to find Garett. He had to know. Maybe, somehow, this would snap him out of whatever had consumed him lately. He had to feel something, right?

But I found Ben first. “Where’s Garett?” I demanded, my voice hoarse from crying.

“He’s not here, Vivian. He just left,” Ben said awkwardly, glancing away as if the words tasted bad in his mouth. “Fiona was poisoned with wolfsbane. He took her to the hospital.”

The world seemed to tilt around me, and for a moment, I thought I might pass out.

Fiona. It was always Fiona. He let our son die, but he would burn the world down for her. Fury rose up inside me like a tidal wave, fierce and uncontrollable. I wanted to scream, to tear something apart, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain that was shredding me from the inside out.

Instead, I felt myself shrinking. Smaller and smaller. It hit me like a punch to the gut—I had no one. I had lost my family to rogues, and now, my only light in this miserable existence was gone too. All I had left was an estranged mate who couldn’t care less and a snake disguised as a relative. The pressure of it all crashed down on me, and before I could take another breath, the darkness pulled me under.

When I woke, Delia was by my side, her face pale with worry. “You’ve been out for a couple of days,” she said softly, as though speaking any louder might break me. “I... I prepared a dress for the funeral. The Alpha hasn’t come back, and I didn’t know what to do.”

I sighed. Of course, he hadn’t. He couldn’t be bothered with his son’s funeral, not when Fiona needed him. The thought stung, but I was too tired to feel the full force of my anger anymore. Noah deserved peace. I couldn’t leave him waiting just because his father didn’t care enough to show up.

“Tell Martin we’ll do it,” I murmured. “Just us. The people who actually cared.”

We buried Noah deep in the forest, away from prying eyes. There were no grand ceremonies, no speeches, no guests. Just us, and the quiet of the woods. I said my final goodbyes, my voice barely more than a whisper. And just like that, three days of mourning passed in a blur of grief and exhaustion.

I stood in the backyard, staring blankly at the line of trees bordering the pack’s land. The forest that now held my son’s grave. The air was still, the quiet almost peaceful, but it didn’t reach me. My mind was as numb as my heart.

Then Garett’s voice cut through the silence. His mind-link was cold, detached. "Bring Fiona some orange juice to the sunroom."