ALPHA'S REGRET His Fated Human Luna

Chapter 8 The Boy Who Doesn't Flinch

Declan's POV

The blanket still smells like the lock.

Van. Pine. Cold. I follow it until the trees stop pretending to be a park.

Pack.

Fraser's word. It fits. The air here is heavier than the zoo. Wolves under skin. A lot of them.

A woman is already coming down the path from the big house. She smiles before she is close enough to mean it.

Toby's smiling woman.

"Toby." Sweet. Sharp under it. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?"

I look at her.

I do not look down.

Her smile ticks. Just once. Like a c***k in pretty glass.

She expected me to flinch.

I don't.

"Inside," she says, still sweet. "Before your father sees you like this. Barefoot. Filthy. After everything I did to keep you safe."

I walk. Not because she told me to. Because this is where the people who hurt him live, and I came to handle them.

The east corridor. Maids flatten against the wall. Their eyes go to her first. Then to me. They look like they are waiting for me to shrink.

I don't do that either.

She takes me to the training yard. Stone. Cold. Empty, except for two full-blood pups still hanging around, hoping for a show.

"Again," she says. "Shift. Show them your wolf, Toby. Prove you didn't run because you are weak."

"No."

The word comes out flat. The way I tell mean kids at school to stop.

The pups blink. The woman's smile stays on with effort.

"Toby. We do not say no to me."

She crouches. Plays concern. Reaches for my arm like she is going to check for hurt.

I watch her hands. Not her face.

Toby said she smiles when people watch. She hurts him when they don't.

Her nails turn toward her own forearm.

I grab her wrist.

Mom said never on people. Not for meanness.

This is not meanness. This is for him.

She is grown. I am five. My hand should not stop hers.

It does.

The pups go quiet. One of them sits without meaning to. The other takes a step back.

I look at them the way I look at the shepherd mix that tries to own the waiting room.

They stay back.

"You were going to do it yourself," I say. Loud enough. "Then scream my name. His name. Toby. You like blood. You make it."

Her face does something ugly before it remembers how to be hurt.

"Let go."

I do. I am not here to be the mean kid. I am here so she cannot write the lie on her own skin again.

She still screams.

"Toby!"

The yard boils the way he described. Footsteps. Grown-ups. Fast.

A man hits the stone first. Tall. Light hair like mine. Like Toby's. The smell under his clothes slams into me.

Rain on stone. Bitter orange leaves. The thorn I found in Toby. The thorn in me.

Dad.

Toby's dad. Maybe mine. I don't care about the name yet. I care that he let her.

Another man behind him, watching hands, not mouths. Then an older one with a mouth already sour.

The woman cradles the wrist I held, not a wound. There is no blood this time. She makes tears anyway.

"He ran. He came back feral. Callum—he grabbed me. In front of the pups. I only asked him to shift—"

"I didn't hurt her," I say. I look at the tall one. At his eyes. I do not wobble. "She was going to scratch herself. Then blame him. She does that."

The air changes.

Alpha. Fraser's other word. It presses on my tongue like a hand.

I feel it. I do not fold.

The tall one's stare sharpens. Like I am the wrong animal in the right cage.

"Look at me when you answer."

I am already looking.

"I didn't touch her skin," I say. "I stopped her hand. That's it."

The man who watches hands takes one step closer. "Callum. Her nails were turned in. I saw it this time."

"Soren." The older one cuts him off. Aldric. Toby didn't say the name like a person. He said it like weather that is always bad. "The hybrid ran off pack land. Came back talking like he has teeth. You want that at the head of this bloodline?"

"He is five," the tall one says. Callum. His voice is tired in a way Mom's never is. Mom gets quiet. This one sounds like he has been tired for years.

"He is a problem," Aldric says. "Celeste has been the only one willing to raise him. You will not keep dodging a Luna because you like mourning a human. The hall. Tomorrow. The pack hears it. You stand with her, or I name the date without you."

Celeste's tears pause. Then they run prettier.

"For Toby," she whispers. "He needs a mother. A real one. Before he tears the yard apart."

I have a mother.

I almost say it.

I don't. Not yet. Not to them. Mom is exact. She will come. She always does.

Callum's jaw ticks. He looks at me like he is hunting a scent that does not match the boy he put in a kennel last night.

"Inside," he says. Not to her. To me. "Now."

I go.

I do not say Dad.

*

Callum's POV

Celeste reaches for his shoulder on the way off the stone. I don't let her.

"Callum—"

"Not in front of him." I don't look at her. "Not tonight."

Toby's room is down the east hall. Small bed. The window he used to watch patrol from. Last night I sent this face to wet concrete and old rope.

He stops just inside, like he is waiting for a latch to click on the other side of the door.

"This is your room," I say. "You sleep here."

He looks at the bed. Then at me. Still no Dad.

The dirt on him is not pack dirt. Van. Woods. A night that did not belong on this floor.

I turn the bathroom tap until the water runs warm. "Wash. Clean clothes on the hook. Then you rest."

He watches my hands first. The way a kid who has been hit watches for the next one.

"I believe you." It comes out rough. "What you said in the yard. She was going to do it herself. Soren saw it. I saw it. I should have believed you last night."

His mouth flattens. Waiting. Testing if the sentence stays true after I leave.

"Stay in here. Do not run. I will handle the rest."

Something in his scent still sits wrong. Grass juice. Clean warm fur under someone else's dirt. Brighter than the fear that used to cling to this floor. My wolf lifts its head. I put it down. Same face. Same age. A child who told the truth in front of witnesses. That is enough for tonight.

I wait until the water is running and the bathroom door is half shut. I do not stand over him like a sentence.

When I close his bedroom door, the latch sounds like a promise I can keep.

The hall is not empty.

Aldric is already there. Celeste at his shoulder. Soren a step back, jaw tight.

"You put him in a bed," Aldric says. No heat. Worse. "After he put hands on the woman who has raised him. After he ran off pack land. You want the elders to watch you go soft for a hybrid—"

"He told the truth." I keep it low so it does not go through the door. "Her nails were turned in. Last night I punished him for a wound he did not make. He sleeps in his room."

Celeste's eyes shine on cue. "He grabbed me in front of the pups. If you reward that—"

"The hall." Aldric cuts her off, and me with her. "Tomorrow. You have delayed five years. You stand with Celeste as future Luna, or this pack watches an Alpha heir who cannot hold his own house. The boy stands too. Proof we can still raise him."

Celeste's shoulders ease. Victory, covered as care. "I'll keep him close. For his own good."

"You don't go in there tonight."

Her smile ticks. Then it steadies. Hurt, practiced.

I should stop the hall. I should open that door, take the boy, and walk out of this house for a truth that does not come with her tears.

I don't.

An Alpha who looks soft in front of his father loses more than a day.

"The hall," I say. The words taste like stone. "Tomorrow. He stays on pack land. He does not run."

I still have not said yes.

It will sound like I did.

Soren's eyes meet mine. A warning I am not ready to take.

Celeste lays her unmarked hand on my sleeve. "You did the right thing. Tomorrow we make this pack whole."

Hearing we in her mouth still tightens my stomach.

I step back. "Don't."

She smiles anyway. Already planning the dress.

Tomorrow the pack hears it.

The boy is behind a door I actually shut for him.

I still owe him last night.