My Mate Rejected Our Dying Child

The morning sun did nothing to warm the chill that had settled over our kitchen. Jonas sat at the table, his small legs swinging nervously, his eyes fixed on his father. Creed was leaning against the granite counter, scrolling through his phone, looking as if he were anywhere but here.

"Here," Creed grunted, sliding a small, heavy box wrapped in silver paper across the table. It skidded to a halt in front of Jonas's plate of untouched pancakes. "Happy late birthday."

Jonas’s face lit up, that desperate hope rekindling instantly. "Is it the wolf plushie I wanted? Or the Lego set?"

"Better," Creed said, not looking up from his screen. "Open it."

Jonas tore at the paper with clumsy, eager fingers. When the lid came off, his smile faltered. He reached in and pulled out a heavy object. It wasn't a toy. It was a tactical combat knife, the handle made of black carbon fiber, the blade gleaming with a wicked, serrated edge.

"Creed," I breathed, stepping forward. "He's five."

"It's a Black-Grade tactical blade," Creed said, finally looking at his son with a critical eye. "Every Alpha needs to know how to handle steel before they handle claws."

Jonas, trying to please his father, gripped the handle with both hands. The knife was far too heavy for him. As he tried to lift it, the weight shifted. The blade slipped, slicing clean across the pad of his thumb.

Jonas gasped, dropping the knife with a clatter. Bright red blood welled up instantly, dripping onto the table. A second later, the wail tore from his throat.

"Mommy! It hurts!"

I was there in a heartbeat, snatching a napkin and pressing it to his hand, pulling him into my chest. "It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you."

Creed didn’t move. He stared at the crying boy, his lip curling in disgust. "Oh, for the Goddess's sake. It’s a scratch. Stop that noise."

"He's bleeding, Creed!" I snapped, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and fury.

"He's soft," Creed countered, his voice dripping with disappointment. "An Alpha's son shouldn't be crying over a little blood. You've coddled him into weakness, Winter. If he can't handle a knife, how will he ever handle the pack?"

He picked up the knife, wiped the blood off on his jeans, and sheathed it. "I'll keep this until he's man enough to use it."

Before I could scream at him, the doorbell rang. The sharp, cheerful chime felt like an insult in the tense room.

I cleaned Jonas's wound in silence while the housekeeper answered the door. She returned a moment later, holding a thick, cream-colored envelope. The scent hit me before she even handed it over—overly sweet jasmine and rose. Alina.

"It's addressed to the Foster Family," the housekeeper whispered, looking down at the floor.

I didn't want to touch it, but Creed snatched it from the tray. He ripped it open, scanning the contents before tossing the card onto the table. It landed face up. The handwriting was elegant, looping script that I recognized instantly.

*"Pack Unity & Reconciliation Garden Party. At the Collins Estate."*

There was a handwritten note at the bottom: *"So sorry for borrowing Daddy last night, Jonas! Let me make it up to you with cake and games. - Auntie Alina."*

"We're not going," I said, my voice flat. I finished applying a bandage to Jonas's thumb, kissing the top of his head.

"We are," Creed said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The pack is talking, Winter. They know I missed the birthday. Rumors are spreading that there's trouble in paradise. We need to squash them."

"You missed his birthday to dance with your mistress," I said, turning to face him. "Those aren't rumors. That's the truth."

Creed stepped into my personal space, his Alpha aura flaring, hot and oppressive. It was a warning. "Alina is my childhood friend. And you are my Luna—technically. You will act the part. Get the boy dressed. We leave in an hour."

***

The drive to the Collins estate was suffocating. Jonas sat in the back, clutching his bandaged thumb, silent and pale. When we pulled up the long, gravel driveway, my stomach churned. The estate was lavish, decorated with white ribbons and pale blue flowers—the colors of the Silverclaw Pack.

We stepped out of the car, and the humiliation began instantly.

Alina stood at the top of the garden stairs greeting guests. She wasn't wearing a simple party dress. She was wearing a floor-length gown of shimmering white silk with silver embroidery along the neckline. It was a direct imitation of the ceremonial gown a Luna wears during the Moon Festival.

It was a claim. A visual declaration of the position she believed she deserved.

"Creed!" Alina squealed, ignoring me and Jonas completely. She floated down the stairs, the white silk billowing around her. She threw her arms around Creed’s neck, pressing her body against his in a way that was far too intimate for a 'childhood friend.'

Creed didn't push her away. He held her waist, smiling—that charming, public Alpha smile he used to disarm critics. "You've outdone yourself, Alina."

"I just wanted everyone together," she cooed, finally turning her gaze to me. Her eyes were sharp, predatory, despite the sweet curve of her lips. "Winter. You look... tired. I hope the drive wasn't too much for you."

"I'm fine," I said, my voice tight. I placed a protective hand on Jonas’s shoulder. He flinched slightly, burying his face in my leg. The scent of so many strange wolves was overwhelming him.

Alina glanced down at Jonas, her nose wrinkling slightly as if she smelled something foul. "And this must be the birthday boy. I heard you had a little accident with your gift. Poor thing."

She didn't wait for a response. She looped her arm through Creed's. "Come, let's get you a drink. The Beta from the Northern territory is dying to say hello."

They walked off, leaving me and Jonas standing at the edge of the perfectly manicured lawn.

Around us, the chatter of the pack had dimmed to a hush. I could feel their eyes on me. I could hear the whispers carried on the wind.

*"Did you see her dress? She's practically wearing the Luna colors..."*

*"Look at the Alpha. He didn't even introduce his mate..."*

*"Winter does everything for this pack, and he treats her like a nanny..."*

They pitied me. The realization was a cold bucket of water. They didn't respect me as their leader; they pitied me as the woman their Alpha couldn't bring himself to love. I tightened my grip on Jonas’s hand, squaring my shoulders. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not today.