After Six Years The Alpha Begs For My Return Chapter 02
The car was stiflingly quiet, the only sound the rhythmic sweep of the wipers across the windshield.
He didn’t turn on the radio, and he didn’t speak. At red lights, he would glance over at me before quickly looking away. After a few times, he reined in his Alpha scent even further, as if afraid the familiar cedar smell would make me uncomfortable.
I watched the streets slide by.
Six years. The old café on the corner was gone. A new bridge spanned the old docks. Even Gray Harbor Academy, where I’d gone to school, had renovated its training grounds.
“Your room at the main house is untouched,” he said suddenly. “Miriam has it cleaned every week. The gardenia on your windowsill is still alive. It’s been repotted four times.”
He cleared his throat. “Your grandfather wants you to come by the house. After the surgery, if you don’t want to see the council elders, I can handle them for you.”
“No need,” I cut in coldly. “I’ll handle my own affairs. And I’m staying at a hotel. I’m not going back to the pack house.”
He didn’t speak again.
By the time the car pulled up to Northbridge Medical Center, the rain had just stopped.
“I’ll wait downstairs,” he said.
“Don’t bother.” I opened the door. “I’ll leave on my own.”
“Avery.” He stopped me, picking up a thermal bag from the passenger seat, his fingers tight on the handles. “It’s chicken soup. For Miriam. The staff said she can only handle liquids right now. I’m here if you need anything.”
I didn’t take it. I turned and walked straight into the inpatient building.
Her room was on the nineteenth floor, in the special treatment wing jointly funded by the Gray Harbor packs. Ordinary hospitals couldn’t treat wolfsbane poisoning, shifting trauma, or acute wolf-failure. This was where they could.
When I pushed open the door, my mother was lying in bed, an oxygen tube resting beneath her nose. Her face was sallow, her sleep heavy and unnatural. Illness had silenced her wolf for so long that the innate power that should have helped her recover had nearly run dry.
Ophelia was sitting beside the bed.
She wore a beige knit dress, her hair loosely pinned back as she peeled an apple. Her wolf had always been weak, her scent faint. Her complexion was perpetually pale, as if a strong gust of wind could blow her over.
Six years later, she still looked just as frail and innocent.
At the sound of the door, she turned. The moment she saw me, her eyes immediately welled with tears. “Avery, you’re finally back. Mom’s been talking about you every day. She’s been waiting for you to come home.”
I walked to the bedside and laid my hand over my mother’s.
“What are you doing here?” I asked without looking up.
“I’m her daughter. Of course I should be here taking care of her.” Her voice was soft. “You’ve been gone for six years. Someone had to look after the family.”
The implication was clear: for six years, I had done nothing.
I ignored her, using a tissue to smooth a few loose strands of hair from my mother’s forehead.
“Avery,” Ophelia said again, “I know you hate me for becoming Gideon’s mate. But it was an accident. The baby… he was an accident, too. The elders recognized him as the Alpha’s heir. I couldn’t let my pup grow up without a name.”
“How old is the child?” I cut in, turning to look at her.
“Six.” She froze, her face going even paler as tears trembled in her eyes.
Slow, measured footsteps sounded behind me.
I didn’t turn, but Ophelia’s eyes lit up. “Gideon, why did you come up? I thought you were waiting downstairs.”
That familiar cedar scent drifted over, stopping two steps away. My wolf recognized it instantly—the absence of a true blending, the missing, interwoven trace of a completed mate bond. The ring meant a council-approved contract. It did not mean their wolves were soul-bound.
“You were gone for a while, so I came up to check.” Gideon’s voice was low. “It’s stuffy in here. Your wolf has been unstable lately. Go downstairs and get some air.”
“I’m fine.” Ophelia smiled gently and slipped her arm through his. “You were caught in the rain, and you still haven’t changed. You’ll catch a chill. Even a werewolf isn’t invincible.”
The gesture was natural, practiced, as if she had done it a thousand times.
I stared at the IV line feeding into my mother’s hand and said nothing.
“I’ll stay with my mother,” I said, rising to my feet. “You two should go. Don’t disturb her.”
“Avery…” Ophelia tried to say more.
“Be quiet.” My gaze flicked to her, and she fell silent.
Gideon frowned, then finally rested a hand on Ophelia’s shoulder. “We’ll go. Call me if you need anything. The guards are downstairs.”
The two of them left, side by side. Before stepping out, Ophelia glanced back at me.
There was no grievance in her look. Only the smug satisfaction of a woman secure in her position as Luna.