The Alpha Chose Her Son Over His Own

My mate walked out of our son’s birthday party for his old flame.

Then he gave her child the protection charm he had made for ours.

So I gave my son thirty days to stop waiting for a father who never came.

On day twenty-eight, Eli looked Gavin in the eye and called him Alpha.

On day thirty, our mate bond would be gone.

Gavin thought we would always be there when he came home.

He didn’t start chasing us until our plane was already in the sky.

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The moment my son, Eli, said those words, both Gavin and I froze.

In the 28 days since I’d realized Gavin’s heart wasn’t with us, every time he abandoned me and Eli for Selene, I made Eli call him "Alpha Gavin."

It was a reminder, to both of us, not to waste our tears on someone who wasn’t worth it.

But that’s not how Eli saw it.

He was only seven, at an age where a boy hero-worships his father.

Every time I told him to say "Alpha," he would hesitate before murmuring the word.

But today, he said it on his own.

It rolled off his tongue, smooth and final, as if he’d rehearsed it in his heart a thousand times.

Seeing us stunned, Eli took my hand. "Go on, Alpha," he said to Gavin. "You're busy."

Then he looked at me.

"Let's go, Mom."

He pulled me into the photo studio.

The family portrait had been Gavin’s idea, a way to make up for missing Eli’s birthday.

Eli had been looking forward to it for two weeks.

I followed him woodenly, my heart twisted with a bitter pang.

Inside, the photographer was still adjusting the silver backdrop. Three stools waited beneath the lights: a tall one for Gavin, a smaller one for me, and a painted wooden moon for Eli. Eli had chosen his blue shirt because Gavin once told him it made his eyes look brave. That morning, he had asked me twice whether his father would stand behind him with both hands on his shoulders.

Now he climbed onto the wooden moon alone. He did not ask the photographer to wait. He did not glance through the glass door again. That frightened me more than tears would have.

For twenty-eight days I had been teaching him not to build his happiness around a man who could be summoned away by another woman's voice. I had told myself detachment would protect him. I had not understood that protection could look so much like watching a small light go out.

It all started with a receipt.

He’d taken Selene to dinner and forgotten to take the receipt out of his pocket. It was from the Moonlight Restaurant, famous for its romantic atmosphere. A dinner for two.

I’d asked him to take me there for our last mating anniversary, to recapture the magic of when we first bonded.

Gavin had refused. "An Alpha's time shouldn't be wasted on pointless romance," he’d said.

A few days later, he took Selene.

I found her post on her pack’s social feed.

[A romantic restaurant is meant for someone who appreciates romance.]

The picture was of her and Gavin, clinking glasses under the moonlight.

I remembered staring at the receipt until the ink blurred. The charge included the private terrace I had once pointed out to Gavin, the one overlooking the river where bonded couples renewed their vows. He had called the idea sentimental nonsense. Yet in Selene's photograph, his hand rested at the small of her back with the effortless familiarity he had stopped offering me.

When I confronted him, I did not ask whether he had slept with her. The betrayal was already complete in a different way. He had taken something I had asked to share with him, declared it worthless, and then offered it to another woman as if her wanting transformed its value.

Selene was his old flame, a supposedly fragile Omega with a pup.

That night, we had the worst fight of our lives.

I told him I was filing a petition with the Elders to sever our mate bond.

Gavin called me unreasonable.

He asked how I could be so cruel as to leave the future Alpha of the pack without a father.

He swore to the Moon Goddess that it was nothing more than an Alpha’s duty to protect the weaker members of the pack.

Seeing Eli’s face, pale with fear, I practically bit my tongue in half.

I knew if I dragged my son away from him, Eli would never forget his father.

But I also knew that one betrayal leads to a thousand more.

I wouldn’t let my son suffer for what he called "protection."

So I chose another way. I tricked Gavin into signing the dissolution papers.

When I gave the agreement to the Head Elder, he sighed. "There are 30 days until the next full moon, when the sacred grounds open," he reminded me. "If you change your mind within these 30 days, come back for this document. I'll act as if nothing happened, and I won't tell the Alpha."

I won't regret this, I promised myself.

So for the next 30 days, I did everything I could to help my son detach.

Today was day 28.

And Eli had called Gavin "Alpha" all by himself.

I felt my son’s body trembling slightly against mine, but there was no victory in it, only the feeling of a thousand icy needles piercing my heart.

I tightened my fingers around his. His palm was damp and much too small to carry a decision like this. For a moment I wanted to turn around, seize Gavin by the shoulders, and force him to see what his son had surrendered. But love begged for recognition; self-respect did not. I would not make Eli perform his hurt louder just because quiet pain was easy for Gavin to ignore.

We had already walked a few feet away when Gavin finally snapped out of it.

He took a few steps after us, about to ask what was wrong, but his phone rang again. It was Selene’s delicate, tearful voice.

"Gavin, where are you? Milo won't stop crying. I can't calm him down."

Gavin stopped in his tracks. "Okay," he said into the phone. "I know. I'm on my way."

He sent me a quick text—We’ll talk later—and turned away without a second thought.

The roar of his truck's engine faded into the distance.

Eli stopped walking and buried his face in my shoulder, his tears soaking through my shirt.

"Mom," he whispered.

"Can we... not have a dad anymore?"