Severed Bond, New Life

The morning dew clung to my boots as I made my way up the gentle slope to Connor's grave. Dawn had barely broken, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold that my son would have loved. My fingers tightened around the bouquet of white lilies—his favorite—their pristine petals standing out against the somber gray of the cemetery.

One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days without his laughter. Without his small hand in mine. Without his voice calling me 'Mom.'

Kaleigh, my wolf, whimpered softly in my mind. *It hurts, Sophia. It hurts so much.*

"I know," I whispered, kneeling before the small marble headstone. Connor Reed, beloved son. The dates carved beneath were too close together. Far too close.

I traced the letters of his name, feeling the cold stone beneath my fingertips. "Happy birthday in heaven, my sweet boy."

A lump formed in my throat as I arranged the lilies in the stone vase. The cemetery was silent except for the occasional birdsong and the rustle of leaves. Empty. Just like Marcus's promises to be here.

I closed my eyes, reaching out through our mate bond, a connection that once hummed with love but now felt like a frayed string ready to snap.

*Marcus? It's time. Connor's waiting for us.*

The silence stretched long enough that I thought he wouldn't answer. Then his voice, distant and distracted, flickered through our mind-link.

*I can't make it this morning. Rachel needs me today.*

The connection cut off before I could respond, leaving me with the echo of those five words. Rachel needs me today. Not: I'm sorry. Not: I'll be there soon. Not: Our son deserves both his parents on this day of all days.

Kaleigh howled in anguish, the sound reverberating through my mind with such force that I physically winced. *How dare he? HOW DARE HE?*

"Shh," I soothed her, though my own heart was shattering all over again. "We knew he wouldn't come."

And that was the worst part. I had known, deep down, that Marcus would choose Rachel again. Just as he had chosen her over Connor and me countless times before. Even before our son's death. Even after it.

I sat in silence with Connor for an hour, telling him stories about the pack, about the deer I'd spotted near his favorite creek, about the painting I'd started of the sunset he used to watch from his bedroom window. I didn't mention his father's absence. Some truths were too painful, even for ghosts.

When I finally rose, my legs were stiff and my heart heavier than the stone marking my son's resting place. I had one more stop to make before I could retreat to the solitude of my studio.

The Silverwood Pack clinic was bustling with activity when I arrived. Pack members nodded respectfully as I passed—their Luna, their Alpha's mate—but I caught the pity in their eyes. They all knew what day it was. They all knew where Marcus was.

I needed