Take Your Regrets to the Grave
My son is gravely ill. His inner wolf is too weak to awaken, and the healer warns that without the Alphaās blood to strengthen his spirit, he may not last the next full moon.
He clutches my hand, his feverish golden eyes dimming. āMother, can Father take me to the Barnum & Bailey Circusļ¼ā
But no matter how many times I summon my mate through the pack bond, he does not answer. His presence in the mind-link is an empty void.
I can only hold my son as his small body trembles. I whisper stories of wolf warriors and great Alphas, but his breathing grows weaker. When the dawn breaks, his tiny fingers slip from mine. His wolf never wakes.
A few days later, the scent of wild roses floods our packās sacred grounds. I turnāand there he is. My mate. My Alpha.
He strides into the hall with my sister cradled in his arms. Her neck bears his fresh scent mark. His mark.
I watch as he presses a lingering kiss to her lips, his hands caressing her like a treasure. Their love is bold, shamelessāan unspoken declaration to the entire pack.
And only then do I learn the truth.
While my son lay fighting for his life, waiting for his fatherās touch, longing for his Alphaās strength⦠my mate was deep in Rose Valley, tangled in passion with my own blood.
I thought my heart had long since gone cold from his neglect, but at that moment, it shatters.
I make my decision. I will leave this pack.
Yet just as I turn to walk away, the mate who had only ever treated me with indifference suddenly drops to his knees.
A broken sob rips from his throat.
For the first time, my proud, untouchable Alpha weeps.