Chapter 2: Who is my Father

Chapter 2

“Mom… why doesn’t my dad want me?”

The question hit me like a silver bullet to the chest. I froze in the middle of chopping vegetables, the knife hovering above the cutting board as my six-year-old son, Landon, stood in the doorway of our cozy kitchen, his small backpack still slung over one shoulder and his uniform shirt untucked. His big hazel eyes—eyes that carried faint traces of the three monsters who had fathered him—locked onto mine with heartbreaking innocence.

I set the knife down slowly, buying myself a second so my hands would stop shaking. Six years. Six years of building walls, of learning to breathe without the constant ache of a shattered mate bond, and one simple question from my child threatened to tear everything down.

“Landon, sweetheart…” My voice came out rougher than I wanted. I wiped my hands on my apron and crossed the small kitchen, crouching down to his level. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the lace curtains of my grandmother’s old cottage, casting warm patterns across the worn wooden floors. The scent of simmering stew and fresh herbs filled the air, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in my throat.

He shifted on his feet, scuffing one sneaker against the floor. “Teacher said Father’s Day is next week. Everyone’s making cards. But I don’t have a dad to give mine to.” His lower lip trembled just slightly before he caught it, trying so hard to be brave. “Did I do something bad? Is that why he left?”

The room tilted, for a second, I was back in that abandoned field house, pressed against the wall while Ryker, Ronan, and Rafe took what they wanted and then discarded me like I was nothing. The ghost of their rejection sliced through me again—sharp, vicious, unrelenting.

They don’t deserve to know you exist, I thought fiercely, cupping Landon’s soft cheek. His skin was warm, his dark hair slightly messy from a day of playing. He looked so much like them sometimes it hurt. The strong jawline already hinting at future alpha sharpness, the way his eyes could shift from warm to intense in seconds.

“No, baby. You did nothing wrong,” I whispered, pulling him into my arms. He buried his face in my shoulder, small hands clutching my shirt. I rocked him gently, breathing in his scent—innocent pup, wild forest, and that faint underlying note that whispered of powerful blood. “Your father… he wasn’t ready to be a dad. Sometimes grown-ups make really selfish choices.”

Mom appeared in the doorway then, her healer’s bag still in hand from her shift. She took one look at us and her expression softened with understanding. She set the bag down quietly and joined us on the floor, wrapping her arms around both of us.

“Some people don’t know how to treasure the gifts the Goddess gives them,” Mom said softly, stroking Landon’s hair. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not wanted, little wolf. Your mom and I love you more than all the stars in the sky. You’re our greatest blessing.”

Landon sniffled but nodded, pulling back enough to look at both of us. “Can I still make the card? Maybe… maybe one day he’ll change his mind.”

My heart cracked wide open. I forced a smile, blinking back the burn in my eyes. “Of course you can. We’ll even get some special markers from the store tomorrow.”

He seemed satisfied with that for now. Kids were resilient in ways adults could only envy. After a few more hugs and promises of extra dessert, Landon bounded off to his room to play with his toy wolves, the crisis momentarily averted. The sound of his footsteps on the creaky stairs echoed through the cottage like tiny thunder.

The moment he was gone, the weight crashed back down on me. I sank into one of the kitchen chairs, burying my face in my hands. Mom moved behind me, her strong fingers kneading the tension from my shoulders.

“You’re doing beautifully, Elara,” she murmured. “Every single day.”

“I hate that they still affect us,” I whispered, voice muffled. “Six years, Mom. I left everything behind. We built a life here in Silverveil. I have a job at the clinic, Landon is healthy and happy… Why does one innocent question still feel like they’re standing right here, laughing at me?”

Mom sighed and took the seat across from me, reaching for my hands. The evening light caught the silver strands in her hair. She had aged gracefully in our new pack, but the worry lines around her eyes were permanent reminders of everything we’d fled.

“Because the bond was real, even if they were cruel,” she said gently. “And because Landon carries their blood. But you are so much more than what they tried to reduce you to. You’re a survivor. A mother. A healer in training. It’s time to stop letting ghosts dictate your happiness.”

I traced a scar on the wooden table with my thumb—an old cut from when I’d first tried cooking in this kitchen, hands still trembling from withdrawal-like symptoms after the partial rejection. The mate bond had fought hard to pull me back those first two years. Nights of fever, phantom touches, dreams where the triplets whispered apologies they’d never actually say. But I had endured. I had given birth alone, with only Mom and the pack midwife at my side. I had raised our son without their power, their protection, or their names.

“I know,” I breathed. “I just… I promised myself I’d never let another alpha close. The thought of trusting anyone after what they did—”

“Not every alpha is like them,” Mom interrupted firmly. “And not every man wants to break you.”

As if summoned by her words, my phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Dr. Marcus Reed.

Marcus: Hey Elara, still thinking about that dinner on Saturday? No pressure, but I’d love the chance to make you smile properly for once.

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering. Marcus had been pursuing me quietly for months. He was kind, steady, a respected healer at Silverveil Medical who treated everyone, from lowest omega to beta warriors with the same gentle respect. No playboy energy. No cruel games. Just warm brown eyes, easy laughter, and patience that seemed endless.

Mom glanced at the phone and raised an eyebrow. “Is that the good doctor again?”

I nodded, cheeks warming slightly. “He asked me out last week. I keep turning him down.”

“And tonight?”

I thought of Landon’s question. Of the lonely nights when the cottage felt too quiet and my body still remembered what it felt like to be wanted—even if that want had been a lie. I thought of Mom’s tired eyes and how she deserved to see me try to live again.

I typed back before I could overthink it.

Me: Saturday sounds nice. Pick me up at 7?

The reply came almost instantly, filled with enthusiastic emojis that made me smile despite myself.

Mom’s face lit up when I showed her. “Good girl. One date won’t kill you. And Marcus is a fine man. Stable. Honest.”

“I know.” I stood up and resumed chopping vegetables, needing to keep my hands busy. “I just don’t know if I have anything left to give someone. My heart feels… bruised. Scarred. What if I can only offer gratitude instead of love?”

“Then you start with gratitude,” Mom said, standing to help me. “Love grows in safe soil. And Marcus feels safe, doesn’t he?”

He did. That was the terrifying part.

************************

Saturday night arrived faster than I expected. I stood in front of the small mirror in my bedroom, smoothing down the soft emerald green dress I’d borrowed from a friend. It hugged my curves—curves that had filled out after pregnancy and years of healing. My dark hair fell in loose waves, and I’d even put on a touch of mascara. The woman staring back at me looked… alive. Not just surviving.

“You look beautiful, Mom,” Landon said from the doorway, grinning with a gap-toothed smile. Mom stood behind him, giving me an approving nod.

“Be good for Grandma,” I told him, kissing his forehead. “I won’t be too late.”

Marcus arrived right on time, looking handsome in a button-down shirt and dark jeans. His scent which was of clean rain and sandalwood wrapped around me comfortingly as he opened the car door for me. No overwhelming alpha dominance. Just quiet strength.

The luxury restaurant in the neutral territory between packs was elegant without being flashy. Candlelight flickered across linen tablecloths, soft music played in the background, and the scent of garlic and roasted herbs made my stomach rumble. We talked easily about work, about Landon’s latest obsession with building forts, about pack politics that never seemed to end.

Halfway through dessert, Marcus set his spoon down and looked at me seriously, his fingers brushing mine across the table.

“I need you to know something, Elara,” he said, voice low and sincere. “I’ve liked you for a long time. Not just because you’re beautiful, but because you’re strong. The way you love your son, the way you fight to be better every day… I don’t mind that he’s not mine biologically. I’d be honored to help raise him. To be whatever you both need.”

My breath caught. The sincerity in his eyes made something warm bloom in my chest—gratitude, definitely. Affection, perhaps. But the deep, soul-stirring pull I once felt? That was missing. And maybe that was okay. Maybe safe was better than fated.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, my fingers tightening around his. “You’re an incredible man, Marcus. Landon already likes you. I just need time to think. To make sure I’m not rushing because I’m scared of being alone forever.”

He smiled softly, squeezing my hand. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

The drive home was comfortable, filled with light conversation. He walked me to the door like a perfect gentleman and left with a gentle kiss on my cheek.

Mom was waiting up, as always, a cup of herbal tea ready on the table. Landon was fast asleep upstairs.

“So?” she asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity as I kicked off my heels.

“He’s… wonderful,” I said, sinking into the armchair with a sigh. “He said he wouldn’t mind being a father to Landon. He meant it, Mom. I could see it in his eyes.”

“But?”

I stared into my tea. “But I feel more gratitude than anything else. Is that enough? Can love grow from that?”

Mom reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Love isn’t always fireworks and mate bonds, my darling. Sometimes it’s quiet. Steady. Healing. Allow yourself to be loved. Those wounds the Blackthorn triplets left… only real love can truly close them.”

Her words settled over me like a warm blanket. I nodded slowly. “I’ll try. For Landon. For me.”

***************

The next morning at the clinic, I couldn’t help the slight blush that crept up my cheeks when Marcus greeted me in the hallway. He smiled warmly but kept things professional, which I appreciated. The day moved smoothly—treating a young omega with morning sickness, helping an elder with joint pain, the usual rhythm of healing work that grounded me.

Around midday, as I was updating patient files, my phone rang. The school’s number flashed on the screen. My heart dropped.

“Ms. Voss? This is Principal Hargrove. There’s been an incident with Landon. He got into a fight with another student. We need you to come immediately.”

I was already grabbing my bag. “I’m on my way.”

Worry gnawed at me the entire drive. Landon wasn’t a violent child. Something serious must have happened. As I pulled up to the school, the familiar brick building loomed under gray skies. Students whispered in clusters near the entrance.

I hurried inside, pulse racing, already imagining the worst.

Little did I know, this was only the beginning of the storm returning to shatter my carefully rebuilt life.