Alpha Tyson POV.
“Tyson, my dear. You called for me?” Mother's gentle voice pierced the short silence I was enjoying.
I turned away from the railing of my balcony, where I had been standing, trying to find some peace.
“Yes.”
Along with my turn, I could feel the evening air cooly brushing against my skin.
It felt great compared to the great deal of anger boiling inside of me.
The sound of her leaning against the door of the balcony made me glance back.
When I faced her direction, I found her—my mother, standing at the edge of the balcony, her head bowed.
"Tyson," she greeted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Mother," I replied, the word sharp on my tongue. I couldn't mask the disappointment I felt even after I spent the earlier seconds trying.
Seeing her raise her hand
