The Alpha’s Rejected Luna

I didn’t answer Quinn’s question.

It wasn’t a matter of whether I wanted to, but if I could.

“You’re still young,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “When you grow up, you’ll understand that the Silverfang Pack keeping you from seeing me is probably for the best.”

I hadn’t anticipated visitors when I set up this place, so if Quinn wanted to stay over tonight, he'd have to sleep on the couch. I began tidying up the scattered items on the sofa—unworn dresses still with tags, unopened bags—and tossed them all into the closet.

Quinn followed me, carefully matching my steps, helping by carrying the dresses and bags. His small hands gripped the fabric tightly, his movements precise and deliberate, like a pup trying to prove his worth to the pack.

“Mom, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Making space for you to sleep,” I replied, not looking at him.

“Can’t I sleep with you?”

I paused, looking down at him. He looked away, then gathered the courage to meet my gaze. “I sleep quietly, and I’m small. I only need a little bit of the bed,” he said, his voice pleading.

But I still refused him firmly. “I don’t like noise. If you can’t sleep, find something quiet to do. You can watch cartoons—just keep the sound off. There’s a delivery coming soon. Get the door yourself and eat if you’re hungry. Just don't disturb me, okay?”

Quinn nodded obediently, his eyes downcast. Satisfied, I returned to the bedroom. To be safe, I locked the door behind me.

It was quiet outside. I scrolled through short videos for hours and was just starting to drift off when suddenly I heard a loud crash.

I instinctively opened my eyes and jumped out of bed, not bothering with slippers as I rushed out. The sound came from the kitchen. Quinn was on the floor next to a fallen chair, oatmeal spilling from a pot and sizzling sounds coming from the stove.

“Aren’t you aware pups shouldn’t be playing with fire?” I scolded, quickly turning off the gas. My heart was racing, but I kept my voice steady. “Didn't I order you food? Eat when you're hungry!”

Quinn shrank into himself, shoulders hunched, head down, silent. His small frame trembled, and I could feel the weight of his fear.

I took a deep breath, crouched down, and gently checked his arms and legs. “Does it hurt?” I asked, my voice softer now.

He shook his head quickly.

I didn't believe him, so I picked him up and carried him out of the kitchen, placing him on the sofa. I helped him out of his clothes to check him over carefully. On the coffee table was a half-eaten kids’ meal. I glanced at it and asked, “Is it not what you like?”

Again, he shook his head.

I frowned. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You didn’t have dinner...” Quinn finally spoke, hiccuping amidst sobs, “I was afraid you’d be hungry.”

I paused, my heart tightening. His words struck a chord deep within me, and for a moment, I felt the sting of guilt.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t be mad...” His small hand formed a fist, wiping tears haphazardly, his breath hitching with his cries. The other hand clutched the hem of my shirt tightly and wouldn’t let go.

I pulled him into my arms, gently patting his back, rocking him to comfort him. Quinn cried until he was exhausted, then settled quietly, wrapping his arms around my neck, resting his head on my shoulder, and fell asleep.

Some habits of his never changed since way back.

I couldn’t understand what Marcus was teaching him. If he truly wanted a clean break, he should've been telling Quinn I was a bad mother and definitely not letting him visit me.

What do pups really know? It’s the adults who teach them everything. And yet, here was Quinn, his small heart filled with concern for me, despite everything.

As I held him, I couldn’t help but wonder if Marcus even realized the kind of bond he was letting Quinn form with me. Or if he even cared.