Alpha Denied My Dying Child

I could hear Ayden's breathing from across the basement room. Each inhale was a shallow, wet rattle that told me what I already knew: my son was slipping away. The pack healer had refused my pleas for the third time this week, and I had nothing left to offer him except the memory of a mother's love and whatever dignity I could salvage from this crumbling world.

I ran my fingers along the cold brick wall as I made my way to the door, counting my steps the way I had learned to do since losing my sight. Twenty-three steps to the door. I couldn't see the mold growing in the corners anymore, but I could smell it—just as I could smell Ayden's sickness, the metallic scent of failing organs that no amount of love could heal.

"Mama?" His voice was barely a whisper, and I turned toward it, my body responding to the sound even if my eyes could not.

"I'm here, baby." I knelt beside his small mattress, finding his hand with ease. His skin was so hot, so dry. "I'm going to get you something special. Something just for you."

I didn't tell him it was probably the last thing I would ever give him. He didn't need to know that. He just needed to know he was loved.

The walk to the bakery was longer than I remembered. The winter air cut through my thin clothes as I navigated the familiar path, using the sounds of the pack to guide me. I could hear the distant laughter from the main square, the clatter of dishes from the dining hall. All the sounds of a pack that had forgotten we existed.

I smelled the bakery before I reached it—the sweet, rich scent of ceremonial cakes, made for celebrations and rituals. Ayden deserved one. He deserved a thousand. But I would settle for one expired cake, one last taste of sweetness before the end.

"Please," I said to the air when I reached the door, knowing someone was watching. "I know it's against the rules, but—"

"Luna." The voice was soft, hesitant. Pearl Mitchell. An Omega who had shown me kindness before, though it had cost her.

"I need a cake," I said. "One that's expired. For Ayden."

I heard her shuffling, the rustle of paper, the soft clink of a box. "Here, Luna. It's not much, but—"

The bakery door slammed open. The scent hit me first—expensive perfume and the unmistakable aura of an Alpha. Boston. My mate. The man who had condemned our son to die.

"Look at this," his voice boomed, the Alpha tone pressing down on me like a physical weight. "The traitor returns."

I tried to straighten, to face him, but his aura crushed me to my knees. The cold dirt bit into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my chest.

"Alpha," I managed, the word bitter on my tongue. "I'm not here for—"

"You're here for attention,"