“I know.” Her voice trembles like glass cracking under the weight of years. “I know, Wren. But I’m bonded to him. And he… he says it’s biology. That Alphas are just wired differently. That it doesn’t mean anything.”
I stare at the mess of the café around me, heart thudding.
“I hate that excuse,” I say, my voice fierce. “You deserve better.”
She doesn’t reply right away, but I can hear her breathing. Slow. Shallow.
“I wish I’d left,” she whispers eventually. “I wish I’d taken you and just… started over.”
“I do too,” I say before I can stop myself.
Then, as if a switch flips inside her, her voice lifts. Polished. False. “Well. Anyway. What does the repair look like? How much will it cost?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say slowly. “But I’ll figure it out. I’ve got savings. I’ll make it work.”
“I have some money,” she says. “Not a lot, but… I haven’t touched my retirement money yet. If it helps?—”
“Mom.” I shake my head even though she can’t see it. That’s money she saved up for years working as a teacher in the local high school. “That’syoursafety net.”
“It’s fine,” she says. “If I can’t use it to help my daughter rebuild her future, what’s the point? Plus, once we sell the café, you’ll pay me back.”
My throat thickens. My mom—meek, sad, married to a man who has broken her in quiet, subtle ways—offering me everything she has left. It guts me.
“I’ll think about it,” I whisper. “But promise me you’ll take care of yourself, too.”
“I always try,” she says. But there’s no conviction in her voice.
Then footsteps. Low. Heavy. The telltale thud ofhimreturning.
Her voice lifts again, suddenly brighter. “Alright, honey, I’ll let you go. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Mom—”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you too.”
She ends the call before I can say anything else.
I stare at the phone like it’s betrayed me. I feel sick.
This is why I don’t date Alphas. Why I don’t trust them.
They say they’re made for you. That they’ll bond, protect, and cherish. But what they mean is: control, own, ruin.
I saw it growing up. In my father’s eyes, every time he blamed my mom’s insecurity for his wandering hands. In her forced smiles, her quiet shame. In the way he excused himself repeatedly.
“It’s nature, sweetheart. Don’t tempt me if you can’t handle the fire.”
He was bonded. Married. And still, he strayed.
Still, he made her believe it washerfault.
Just like Everhart did. Just like all of them do, eventually.
I curl my legs up under me, pressing my back against the cold counter. Pancake jumps up beside me and settles with a slight grunt, resting his head against my thigh.
“I’m not doing it,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “I’m not going to let an Alpha in just because he makes my body react.”
