Chapter 14: His name is Ari

Serena

The moment I named him, something inside me settled.

“Ari,” I whispered as I held him close in the quiet of our little room. His skin still soft and warm, his silver eyes blinking up at me like they already knew too much.

It was the name I’d chosen before he was even born.

It meant lion-hearted.

It meant brave.

And to me, it meant mine.

—

Ari was the light that pulled me out of the darkest night of my life.

He grew faster than I imagined. Within months, he was crawling across the floor with wild determination. By the time he turned two, he was running—bare feet slapping against the old wooden boards of our apartment, giggling as he chased the light pouring through the window.

“Mama!” he shouted, his voice bright as morning.

He called me that every day.

Sometimes twenty times in a row, just to hear me say, yes, Ari? again and again.

Other times, it was softer—when he was tired or scared or hurt. A little whisper as he reached for me, arms stretching with trust that never wavered.

That word—mama—was a gift I never thought I’d receive.

And hearing it made the past hurt less.

We were happy.

Not rich, but not starving.

Not grand, but not forgotten.

Just… safe.

After the bakery, I found work as a private cook. Nothing official. Just word of mouth. A rich woman tasted my food once at the market and asked if I’d cook for her family. Then her friends. And their friends. Soon, I had three regular houses I cooked for during the week. Fancy dishes, elegant tables, quiet clients.

And they paid well—enough for a second-hand stroller, soft blankets, books for Ari, and medicine when he caught a cold.

Ma stayed home with him while I worked, and together, we made it work.

He was loved. Deeply.

By me. By Ma. By the bakery ladies who still gave him free bread when we passed by. Even by the old neighbor downstairs who swore she hated children—until Ari kissed her cheek one afternoon and she cried.

He was magic.

But not just the kind that made people smile.

There was something else inside him.

Something older.

Something… wolf.

—

It started small.

The first time it happened, he was about 18 months old. He wanted to play with a toy that had fallen under the couch. I told him he had to wait until I finished the dishes.

He screamed.

Loud and long.

But what shocked me wasn’t the tantrum—it was his eyes.

They flashed.

Just for a second.

Silver. Bright. Glowing.

I dropped the spoon I was holding.

Ari didn’t notice. He just cried harder, face red, fists pounding the floor.

I knelt beside him quickly and pulled him into my arms. His little body was shaking.

“Shh,” I whispered, rocking him gently. “Shh, it’s okay. Mama’s here.”

When I looked again, the glow was gone.

His eyes were normal.

But I couldn’t forget it.

And it wasn’t the last time.

—

A month later, he fell while playing outside and scraped his knee. It bled, just a little, but before I could get the bandages, the wound was already closing.

By the next morning, it was gone. Not a mark left behind.

I started noticing other things.

He didn’t get sick like other children.

His strength—so small, yet so surprising. He once pulled a wooden drawer completely off its rails. I still don’t know how.

And his hearing… He always reacted to things long before we heard them. He would stop playing suddenly and say, “Someone’s coming,” before a knock even hit the door.

I knew.

I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew.

Ari wasn’t just a child.

He was a wolf.

A full-blooded Moonclaw heir.

Just like his father.

—

The truth hit harder now that I could see it.

Every day, he reminded me more and more of Kael.

The way he stood with his tiny hands on his hips when he was serious.

The stubborn set of his jaw when he didn’t want to share.

Even the way he stared at people—quiet, intense, too wise for his age.

And those silver eyes… Kael’s eyes.

They haunted me. Not because I didn’t love them—but because I did.

Because they belonged to the man who never claimed us.

The man who broke me and never looked back.

But Ari?

Ari would never be a mistake.

He was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Even if his existence scared me.

Even if his power was growing.

Even if one day, someone from that pack would recognize him… and come knocking.

I held him tightly one night after a tantrum, when his eyes had flashed again and he cried himself to sleep in my arms.

“Shh,” I whispered into his hair. “I’ve got you.”

I kissed his forehead.

“No matter what happens, you’ll never be alone,” I promised. “You’ll never be rejected. You’ll never be hidden. You’ll never be ashamed of what you are.”

Because he was mine.

And I would fight the whole world for him.

Even if it meant going back to where it all began.

Even if it meant facing the monster who created him.

Even if it meant facing Kael again.

One day… I would.

But not today.

Today, I held my son close, wrapped in the warmth of our little apartment, and let myself believe that this peace could last.

Even if it wouldn’t.

~~~

It started just after sunset.

Ari had been playful all day—full of laughter, asking me to read his favorite wolf book three times in a row. But as soon as the moon began to rise, his skin turned hot beneath my hand.

I thought it was a fever at first. Just another childhood cold. I laid him in bed and pressed a cool cloth to his forehead, whispering lullabies, stroking his hair.

But then… he started shaking.

Violent tremors racked his small body. His teeth clenched. His back arched.

“Ari?” I cried, panic rising in my throat. “Ari—look at Mama.”

His eyes flew open—and they were glowing.

Bright silver. Shining like a full moon.

Then he screamed.

It wasn’t a baby’s cry. It was a roar. A sound no human child could ever make. My blood turned cold.

I held him to my chest, trying to soothe him, but the shaking only got worse. Sweat poured from his tiny body. The air around him felt wrong, thick and sharp, like the forest before a storm.

I called for Ma.

We rushed him to the hospital in town, but they ran test after test and found nothing.

“No signs of infection,” the doctor said. “No virus. No epilepsy.”

Then why was my child screaming like he was being torn in two?

I didn’t sleep that night. I stayed by his side, watching his chest rise and fall, watching the silver glow return with every wave of pain.

By dawn, I knew.

Human doctors couldn’t help him.

Because my son wasn’t fully human.

—

Three days later, I found a rogue wolf healer in a nearby village.

They said she was crazy. Dangerous. That she didn’t speak to outsiders.

But I didn’t care.

I took Ari in my arms, wrapped in a quilt, and found her cabin deep in the woods. When she opened the door and looked at my child, her cloudy eyes cleared for the first time in years.

“You brought me an Alpha,” she whispered, fingers trembling.

“He’s just a boy,” I said, holding him tighter. “He’s my son.”

“He’s more than that,” she murmured. “He’s wolfborn. And he’s unclaimed.”

She bent over him, sniffed the air, then sat back with a heavy sigh.

“He needs his bloodline,” she said, her voice hollow. “He needs the pack he was born into.”

“I’m his pack,” I told her.

“You’re not enough,” she said softly. “Not this time.”

—

When I came home that night, Ma was sitting at the table, her face pale.

I told her what the healer said.

She shook her head immediately. “You’re not going back there.”

“I have to.”

“They rejected us. Threw us out like garbage.”

“He’s dying, Ma.”

She looked away, tears welling. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.”

She grabbed my hand. “Serena, think. That place will destroy you. That man will destroy you.”

I looked her in the eyes.

“Then let him try.”

She stared at me.

“I won’t go back as a maid,” I said. “I won’t bow or beg or break. I’m going back as a mother. If Kael won’t help his son, I will tear down his mansion with my bare hands.”

—

The cold air hit me first.

It was early morning—fog still clinging to the ground like ghosts. I walked up the winding road I hadn’t seen in two years, my coat too thin, my boots soaked through.

Ari was in my arms, wrapped tightly in every blanket I owned. His face was pale. His breaths were shallow.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

When the black gates of the Moonclaw estate came into view, I stopped.

The guards hadn’t seen me yet.

I took a deep breath.

And walked forward.

One of the guards looked up.

He frowned.

Then his eyes widened.

Within seconds, the other guard stepped forward, raising a hand. “You—what are you doing here?”

I didn’t answer.

I kept walking until I was right in front of the gates.

They stared at me like they were seeing a ghost.

“Is that… is that the maid?”

“She was banished—wasn’t she arrested?”

They didn’t open the gate.

“I need to speak with Alpha Kael,” I said, lifting my voice. “It’s urgent.”

“He’s not available—”

“It’s about his son.”

The words silenced them.

I stepped closer.

“Let him know Serena is here,” I said, “and that I’m not leaving until I speak to him.”

They exchanged glances.

Then one of them rushed off.

The other stayed, hand resting on his belt.

I shifted Ari in my arms. He whimpered in his sleep, sweat beading on his brow. My heart pounded, but I kept my chin high.

Minutes passed.

And then—footsteps.

Not running. Not rushing. Just steady, echoing footsteps down the long path between the mansion and the gate.

Then I saw him.

Kael.

Tall. Dressed in black. His eyes locked on me before his feet stopped moving.

And when he looked down at Ari… he froze.

Everything around us fell quiet.

The wind.

The trees.

The guards.

He stared.

And stared.

And something in his face—something deep, primal—broke.

He saw it.

He knew.

Those eyes… his eyes.

His blood.

His child.

I didn’t wait for him to speak.

I held Ari closer and lifted my chin.

“I didn’t come for you,” I said clearly. “I came for my son.”

His throat moved.

But he said nothing.

“I don’t want your apologies,” I added. “I don’t want your guilt or your money. I want help. Because he’s dying. And you’re the only one who can stop it.”

Kael’s jaw clenched.

More guards began to gather.

Some of the staff peeked through the windows.

I didn’t flinch.

“I don’t care if you hate me,” I said. “I don’t care if your Luna tries to throw me back out. This child is yours. And he needs his father.”

Ari stirred, letting out a soft cry. His skin was burning again.

Kael took one step forward.

Then another.

He reached the gate and nodded at the guard.

They opened it.

And for the first time in two years, I stepped back into the Moonclaw mansion.

Not as a maid.

Not as a mistake.

But as a mother.

And Kael?

Kael couldn’t take his eyes off the boy in my arms.