My Alpha Begged Me Back

The frostbitten air of the hotel gardens bit at my exposed neck, but I didn't shiver. I crouched behind a tall row of manicured hedges, perfectly still. Beside me, Dr. Helena Winters remained just as silent. I had asked the Obsidian Pack’s healer to accompany me tonight. My White Wolf was powerful, but Helena’s knowledge of herbs and poisons was unmatched.

Through the leaves, the moonlight illuminated the stone fountain. Athena stood there, wrapped in a thick fur coat, nervously checking her diamond-studded watch.

A moment later, a figure in a heavy, dark cloak emerged from the shadows. The scent of damp earth and ozone hit my nose—a witch. Witches rarely mixed with wolves, not unless there was illegal coin involved.

Athena reached into her coat and pulled out a heavy velvet pouch. The unmistakable clink of gold coins echoed in the quiet night. She shoved it into the witch's hands. In return, the cloaked figure offered a tiny, dark glass vial.

"This better last through the summit," Athena hissed, her voice trembling with paranoia. "If his wolf stops sensing the pup, I'm ruined."

The witch merely bowed and melted back into the shadows. Athena quickly uncorked the vial, dabbing a drop of the liquid onto her neck and wrists before hurrying back toward the hotel.

I turned to Helena. The older woman’s face was pale, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Moonshade," Helena whispered, confirming my worst suspicions. "It’s a highly illegal, banned witch herb. It alters the wearer's pheromones to perfectly mimic the hormonal scent of a pregnant wolf."

A dark, ruthless smile curved my lips beneath my veil. A fake pregnancy. Athena was carrying nothing but lies. She was using a phantom pup to keep Gideon's slipping loyalty tethered to her. The perfect Luna was a fraud.

"Thank you, Helena," I murmured. "Go back to the suite. I need a moment."

I waited until the gardens were empty before stepping onto the cobblestone path, heading for the hotel's side entrance. The warmth of the corridor was a sharp contrast to the biting wind outside. I walked briskly, my mind racing with how to best use this new weapon, when I turned a corner and slammed directly into a solid wall of muscle.

The scent of pine and rot flooded my senses. Gideon.

His hands instinctively shot out, gripping my upper arms to steady me. The moment his skin touched the thin silk of my sleeves, a violent jolt of electricity snapped between us. It was the ghost of our severed mate bond. For me, it was a dull, dead ache. But for Gideon, it was a live wire.

He gasped, stumbling back a half-step. His golden eyes blew wide, his pupils dilating as his inner wolf slammed against his ribs, frantic and confused. He stared at my black veil, his chest heaving. Even through the heavy scent-masking paste Helena had applied to my pulse points, his soul recognized something it had lost.

"Who are you?" Gideon demanded, his voice a raw, desperate rasp. He stepped closer, crowding my space. "Why does your presence feel like..." He couldn't finish the sentence. He looked pathetic. A broken king grasping at shadows.

I didn't step back. I didn't shrink away. Instead, I let my White Wolf rise, filling my veins with ice and iron. Slowly, deliberately, I tilted my head to the side. It was the exact same submissive gesture I used to make when I scrubbed his floors, waiting for his permission to speak.

Gideon froze. Recognition, utterly impossible and terrifying, flickered in his eyes.

Before he could process it, I laced my voice with the heavy, crushing weight of an Alpha tone. "Your focus should be on your crumbling pack, Alpha, not on strangers."

I didn't wait for a response. I sidestepped his frozen form and walked away, my heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor, leaving the great Alpha of the Silverclaw Pack trembling in the hallway.

I wandered the sprawling hotel, letting my racing heart settle. The pulsing neon lights of the resort's massive arcade caught my eye. The room was loud, filled with the beeps and crashes of video games. And there, sitting alone on a stool by a brightly lit racing console, was a small boy.

Andy.

My breath caught. He was kicking his legs, staring blankly at the flashing "GAME OVER" screen. He looked so small, so abandoned. Athena was likely back in their suite, securing her fake Luna image, completely ignoring the child she had fought so hard to steal from me.

The White Wolf inside me whined, a deep, maternal ache overriding my vengeance. I approached him slowly, my footsteps silent.

When I stopped beside him, Andy looked up. He didn't look scared of my veil, just tired.

I reached into the deep pocket of my gown and pulled out a small, worn object. It was a wooden wolf, crudely carved but smoothed by time. I had made it for his first birthday. Athena had thrown it in the trash the very next day, calling it "Omega garbage." I had dug it out of the dirt and kept it ever since.

I placed the little wooden wolf on the console next to his hand.

Andy gasped. His small fingers reached out, tracing the carved ears. For a brief second, my heart beat so hard that my blood ran hot, burning away a fraction of the herbal scent-blocker on my wrists. A faint wisp of my true scent—warm milk, wildflowers, and the undeniable essence of a mother—drifted over him.

Andy inhaled sharply. His head snapped up to look at me, his young eyes wide with a sudden, profound confusion.

"My... my mom made this," he whispered, his voice trembling. He clutched the toy to his chest. "But Luna Athena said she was a monster. A bad wolf who ran away. Monsters don't make toys."

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I leaned down, my voice soft, stripped of all Alpha command, leaving only the fierce love of a mother.

"People lie, little wolf," I murmured. "Monsters don't always look like monsters. And mothers never truly leave. Trust your own nose. Trust your heart."

I stood up and turned away before he could see my shoulders shake. I walked out of the neon-lit room and into the shadows, leaving my son holding the truth in his hands.