Leaving the Alpha Behind

I stood in the moonlit den, the silvery glow casting long shadows against the walls. My voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “I think we should spend the next blue moon together as a family. It might... help Kael. Help us.”

Silence swallowed the room whole, thick and suffocating. My gaze flickered to the man across from me—my mate, my Alpha. Lucian sat rigid in his chair, his chiseled features bathed in cold light, his piercing eyes fixed somewhere I couldn’t see.

I chewed my inner lip, searching for the right words. Words that would bridge the ever-growing distance between us. It had always been like this—me pleading for something so small, something that should have been his responsibility as a father and husband.

“Lucian...” I tried again, softer this time, my voice threading with desperation. “Kael deserves this. Don’t you think he’s been through enough?”

My words barely stirred him. He didn’t even flinch.

My heart clenched as I glanced down at our son. Kael lay curled under thick blankets near the hearth, his pale skin almost translucent in the flickering firelight. His breathing was soft, shallow, each rise and fall of his chest a quiet battle.

Born with a fragile heart, Kael had known more pain in his few years than most did in a lifetime. He couldn’t run with the other pups, couldn’t train, couldn’t laugh freely without exhausting himself. It wasn’t fair—not to him, not to us.

“This isn’t just for Kael,” I pressed, my voice steadying. “It’s for us too. A night together, like it used to be. Maybe—” I hesitated, willing my voice not to break, “Maybe it could remind us of what we have.”

Lucian’s gaze finally moved, locking onto mine. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker there—regret, maybe, or sorrow—but it was gone before I could name it.

“What do you expect me to do, Sera?” His voice was low, clipped, each word carefully measured.

I swallowed hard. “Be there. That’s all I’m asking. Be there for him, for me. Just once.”

He stood abruptly, his towering form casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the room. My heart leapt in hope, but it died as quickly as it came. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out, the door closing behind him with a dull thud.

The emptiness he left behind was colder than any winter night.

I sank to my knees beside Kael, brushing a hand through his soft, dark hair. Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

Kael stirred slightly, his lips parting as if to speak, but he settled back into sleep. I sat there for what felt like hours, the crackling fire, the only sound, vowing to hold together what Lucian seemed determined to let crumble.

Later that evening, I sat at my desk, papers spread out before me. The council had sent another batch of reports, and I was knee-deep in reviewing files on the new warriors who’d sworn their oaths yesterday. The work was tedious, but it kept my mind busy, a welcome distraction from everything else.

The sound of hurried footsteps in the hall broke my concentration. Curious, I stepped outside our room, only to freeze at the sight of Lucian. He was rushing into the sitting area, carrying Talia—my younger sister—in his arms like she was made of glass.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice tighter than I intended.

Lucian glanced at me briefly, his expression unreadable before his eyes returned to Talia. Concern etched every line of his face, a tenderness I hadn’t seen in a long time.

“I told him I was fine,” Talia said with a light laugh, though her tone carried a hint of embarrassment. “I just tripped, Sera. It’s nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” Lucian cut in sharply, his jaw tightening. “You’re bleeding, Talia. Sit down. I’ll get the medicine.”

“Lucian, really—”

“Tals, don’t argue,” he interrupted, his tone soft but firm. “Stay here.”

Tals?

The nickname hit me like a slap. I hadn’t heard him use it before, and it rolled off his tongue with a familiarity that sent an ache through my chest. My gaze dropped to her leg, where a small cut marred her otherwise flawless skin. It wasn’t deep, barely enough to warrant his panic, yet here he was, fussing over her like her life was in danger.

I forced a smile. “I see. Get well soon, Talia. I’ll just... get back to work. Lucian’s here to take care of you.”

Talia flashed me a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Sera. And sorry for the commotion at this hour.”

Her words were polite, but her tone was anything but apologetic.

I nodded stiffly and turned away, heading back toward the room. I didn’t make it far before Lucian’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“There you are,” he said softly to Talia. “Let me help you sit properly. Please be more careful next time, Tals. Those precious legs of yours shouldn’t suffer a scratch, let alone a cut like this.”

The door clicked shut behind me before I could hear more.

My hands trembled as I leaned against the desk, trying to steady my breathing.

I couldn’t help but remember the time I was injured in the woods. I’d called for Lucian, hoping—no, expecting—he would come. But he didn’t.

When I finally made it back, bruised and bleeding, he barely looked at me.

“Good you’re back. Kael was worried,” he’d said, his voice devoid of concern. “Stop overreacting. You just had a small wound.”

Small wound.

The words echoed in my mind, cutting deeper than the injuries ever had. My cuts and bruises had been dismissed like nothing, as though my pain didn’t matter.

I stared at the papers on my desk, the words blurring together. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. I didn’t know if the burn in my chest was jealousy, hurt, or anger.

Maybe all three.

No matter what it was, it left one thing abundantly clear: I couldn’t go on like this.