Leaving the Alpha Behind

Days had passed since I last felt any semblance of peace. Bertha, the council’s senior healer and Kael’s primary caregiver, called me into her quarters today. The look in her eyes as I entered told me everything I needed to know, yet I clung to a fragile sliver of hope.

“Sera, I wish I didn’t have to give you this news,” Bertha began, her voice trembling. “But as Kael’s mother, you deserve to know the truth.”

My heart raced, and the mug in my hand trembled, the hot tea forgotten. “Just tell me,” I whispered, bracing myself for the blow.

Bertha took a deep breath, her face etched with sorrow. “Kael’s condition is deteriorating. The disease… it’s spread throughout his body. At this point, it’s no longer a matter of if, but when.”

The words felt like a dagger, twisting deeper with every syllable. My throat tightened, and I struggled to find my voice.

“We’ve done everything we could,” Bertha continued, her tone heavy with regret. “If he stays longer, his suffering will only grow. I hate saying this, but you need to prepare yourself.”

My legs felt like they would give out beneath me. The world blurred as her words sank in.

I walked home alone, my mind spinning. Wolves greeted me as I passed, but I barely registered their presence. This morning, I was at the hospital with Kael, surrounded by healers and helpers. But now, I returned without him, a hollow shell of myself.

Every step felt like dragging boulders, my heart too heavy to bear. The image of Kael’s frail body flashed in my mind, and my knees nearly buckled.

When I arrived at the common den, Lucian was seated on the couch, casually flipping through papers. His calm, indifferent demeanor was a cruel contrast to the storm raging inside me. If he wasn't with my sister Talia, he was always working.

Summoning what little strength I had left, I crossed the room and sank into the couch opposite him. My shoulders slumped, tears threatening to spill.

“Lucian…” My voice wavered. “Kael’s health—”

Lucian cut me off, not even looking up. “Can’t you see I’m busy, Sera? I have enough on my plate without adding your worries to it.”

My chest tightened, but I pushed on. “But it’s Kael. Bertha said—”

“I heard you the first time,” he snapped, his tone laced with impatience. “Let the healers handle it. You’re overthinking again.”

Overthinking? My jaw dropped. His laziness, his apathy—it was suffocating. “How can you say that?” I shot back, my voice rising despite myself. “It’s your son we’re talking about, Lucian! For once in your life, act like you care!”

Lucian finally looked at me, his eyes cold and unyielding. “And what exactly do you expect me to do, Seraphine? Snap my fingers and fix everything? You’re being hysterical. Keep your voice down. We’re in the common den, and people are busy.”

My hands trembled with rage. “People are busy?” I hissed. “This is about your son, and you’re worried about interrupting people?”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me,” he growled, his tone sharper now. “You’re always looking for pity, Sera. Using Kael’s condition as your excuse to overreact.”

His words hit me like a slap. I stood, my body trembling with fury.

“I can’t do this anymore, Lucian,” I said, my voice breaking but resolute. “Let’s end this bond. I’m done.”

His eyes flashed with anger, a flicker of his wolf surfacing. “Unbelievable,” he snarled. “You’re always running away. Always the victim. You’d abandon our bond—abandon Kael—just to make yourself feel better?”

Before I could respond, Talia breezed into the room. Her presence, unwelcome as it was, felt like salt in a raw wound. She looked between us, her lips curling into a faint, smug smile.

“You need to calm down, Sera,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension. “Kael doesn’t need an overreacting mother. He needs someone strong.”

Her words ignited a fire in me. I turned on her, my voice shaking with suppressed rage. “You have no right to speak about my son,” I hissed, my wolf clawing beneath the surface, desperate to be unleashed.

Talia took a step back, startled by my tone, but Lucian stepped in, his hand raised in warning. “Enough, both of you,” he said coldly.

But I wasn’t finished. My pain, my anger—they wouldn’t be silenced anymore.