Alethea
“You don’t get to tell me I’m your mate-not now. And don’t you dare bring our son into this!” I snap, my voice sharp and full of pain.
I let out a bitter laugh, one that tasted like anger and heartbreak.
“Oh, now you remember I’m your mate?” I say, my eyes scanning him.
He looks like a mess. His eyes are hollow, with dark circles sitting heavily underneath. His shoulders slump like he’s carrying a mountain of guilt. For a second, my heart pulls toward him. I want to run to him, cup his face in my hands, and whisper that it’s going to be okay. I want to hold him and believe the lies I used to tell myself-that love was enough.
But I stop myself.
Instead, I clench my fists tightly by my sides, forcing back the urge to fall apart. I already made up my mind. If Asher refuses to mark me-if he truly doesn’t want me-then I will stay weak. My body will keep suffering from the bond left unsealed. And I’ve thought it through… the weakness might get worse.
So, I made a decision.
If I see him again-face to face-I will do the one thing I’ve been avoiding. The one thing that will break the bond. It will hurt, yes. I’ll feel weak for a while. But I’m of alpha blood. I’ll survive. I always do.
I wipe the tears off my face roughly with the back of my hand. No more crying.
“Let me save us both the pain of going in circles,” I say coldly, my voice like ice. “I’ll leave you the hell alone.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I raise my hand, stopping him before he can say a word.
I’m surprised he isn’t angry. Maybe he knows what’s coming.
I straighten my back and take a deep breath.
“I, Alethea Zoe Weaver-”
His eyes widen in horror as soon as he hears my name. “No, Ally, please,” he pleads, rushing toward me.
He knows I’m about to reject him.
There’s a flicker in his eyes-raw panic.
But I’ve already made up my mind. The fire in my chest tells me I can go through with it. No more begging. No more pain. I will speak the words. I won’t even blink.
“I, Alethea Zoe Weaver, re-”
Before I can finish, his lips crash onto mine.
I gasp, stunned.
One moment he’s standing a few feet away, and the next, his mouth is on mine. I don’t know how he closed the distance so fast-it’s like he moved with the speed of lightning.
He kissed me to shut me up. To stop the rejection.
And I hate that it works. My heart stutters. My breath catches.
I didn’t want to give in. I didn’t want this kiss. But the part of me that still aches for him-the part I buried deep-starts to unravel.
Still, I fight it. My pride screams at me to finish what I started. To push him away. To say the words and end it all.
But my heart hesitates.
When he sees that I don’t kiss him back-like he expected-I can feel the confusion in the way his hands twitch at his sides. Maybe he thought I’d hold onto his shirt and pull him closer like I used to. Maybe he thought I’d melt into him and let him make it all go away. But I’ve moved past that. I’m not the same girl anymore.
He rests his forehead against mine. I close my eyes. I can’t look into his. I won’t. Because for fuck’s sake, his kiss still makes my knees weak, and I know myself better than anyone else. If I look into those green eyes-the ones that seem to see straight into my soul-I’ll get lost. And I can’t afford that.
“Open your eyes,” he whispers, voice soft, almost pleading.
But I shake my head and pull away. My voice finally comes, shaky but firm. “I should go.”
Then I run.
My legs are trembling, my heart slamming against my ribs, and I can feel his gaze burning into my back. A part of me-hell, a big part-wants to turn around, to wrap my arms around him and stay. But not this time. Not anymore. For once, I have to choose me. I have to put my happiness first. And that means leaving.
I don’t know how far I run. My lungs burn, and my mind screams. A small, foolish part of me wishes he’d chase after me, grab me, hold me like he never wants to let go and beg me to stay. But he doesn’t. Of course, he doesn’t.
“Stupid, stupid mate bond,” I mutter to myself, trying not to cry again. I can’t go back to my room. If he comes looking for me, I might not have the strength to push him away. And I can’t fall apart again. Not in front of him.
I need to heal first.
So I head to my son’s room. My chest is still tight, my thoughts still spiraling, but being near Declan always calms me. I take a deep breath and steady myself. With him, I can’t fake it. He sees through me every time.
“Deep breath,” I whisper to myself, and I do.
I push open the door gently and step inside. The soft sound of Declan’s breathing fills the room. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. There’s a faint smile on his face-the same one I saw earlier when I left him. He must have felt safe. Loved.
I smile too, even if it hurts.
I lean down and kiss his cheek gently. He stirs a little, and I hold my breath. But he settles, and I let out a slow sigh. Quietly, I move to the couch in the corner of the room. I grab a spare blanket from The closet and drape it over him, then wrap another around myself as I sink down into the cushions.
My eyes close, but I can’t stop the memory from coming back.
Asher’s face. That kiss. How he stopped me just as I was about to reject him. How fast he moved. Like lightning. Like he knew exactly what I was going to do.
I touch my lips. They’re swollen.
His kiss still lingers.
As I finally drift off to sleep, I wonder if that kiss was his way of fighting for me… or just a desperate way to keep me from walking away.
Then I hear it-a still, small voice calling my name.
“Mummy?”
My heart leaps, and I sit up quickly.
There he is, standing in the dim glow of the nightlight, rubbing his eyes. A genuine smile spreads across my face, and I swear, it feels like I’ve just won the lottery. Declan rushes toward me and throws his little arms around my neck, burying his face in the crook like he always does.
“I missed you, Mummy,” he whispers, his voice sleepy and sweet.
“I missed you more, my sweetheart,” I whisper back, holding him close.
We stay like that for a long while, wrapped in each other. His small arms anchor me and remind me of why I’m still standing, still breathing. This-he-is everything.
Eventually, I guide him to the bed, tucking him in gently. I run my fingers through his soft hair, soothing him with slow, rhythmic strokes. His breathing evens out, and I press a soft kiss to his forehead.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, I know deep down in my soul-I’m ready.
I’m ready to follow through with my plans. Ready to choose me. To heal. To fight for a life where I’m whole, not half of someone else’s story.
With that thought in mind, I let myself drift off to sleep.
Because tonight, I’ve made a decision.
I know what I need to do.