Too Late, Alpha: You Rejected Us Both

Chapter 8

Romona’s POV

​Morning light spilled through the wooden shutters of the border cottage in cold, pale shafts.

​I sat Noah on the edge of the bench after his bath, rubbing his wet curls dry with a towel before slipping a soft woolen tunic over his head. At three years old, he was blissfully oblivious to the heavy shadow looming over us. He swung his legs against the bench, humming a quiet song while clutching his small carved wooden wolf toy.

​I smoothed down the front of his shirt, then held his tiny face gently between my hands.

​"Noah, listen to me very carefully," I said softly, locking my gaze onto his wide green eyes—eyes that looked so dangerously like his father’s that my chest ached. "The people here in this territory... you must never trust them, okay? They are not our friends. We are only staying here for a little while, and then we are leaving."

​Noah blinked, nodding innocently with a thumb tucked against his cheek. "Okay, Mama. I be good."

​I swallowed the tight knot in my throat and kissed his forehead before lifting him firmly onto my hip.

​The main packhouse dining hall was loud and bustling, thick with the aroma of roasted meats, fresh bread, and woodsmoke. Elders and high-ranking pack members sat along the long oak tables breaking their fast. At the head table sat Renner, broad and imposing in his dark leather tunic, flanked by Cassandra and Gideon.

​I carried Noah into the hall, my boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. The conversations died down instantly. Dozens of pairs of eyes flicked from me to the small child clinging to my neck.

​Walking straight up to the head table, I set my jaw. "Good morning," I said, my voice ringing clearly across the quiet room. "This is my son, Noah. As long as I am required to stay here, he stays with me."

​Renner’s piercing green eyes snapped onto the boy. His entire frame went rigid. His gaze dragged slowly from Noah’s small face up to the bright, stark white curls resting against his forehead, his brows drawing tight.

​"He has your hair color," Renner remarked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble as he leaned forward, scrutinizing the boy.

​"I dye it white," I lied without missing a beat, keeping my expression perfectly neutral. "Since he's adopted , it let's him stand out in the crowd , I prefer him looking like me."

​Instead of pressing further, Renner suddenly let out a low, breathless chuckle—a dark, amused sound beneath his breath as he shook his head.

​I glared at him, my brow furrowing in deep irritation. Why is this man laughing? What is wrong with him?

​Before I could snap at him, Cassandra let out a weak, raspy sigh, drawing everyone's attention back to her. She looked dreadfully pale, her breakfast completely untouched.

​"I am feeling somewhat better today," Cassandra murmured, resting a frail hand over her swollen abdomen. "The fever has passed... but I feel so weak, Romona. It feels like the baby is sucking the very life out of me every single hour."

​I shifted Noah higher on my hip, stepping closer to read her vital aura. "That is because the child you are carrying is far stronger than the body embedding it. The baby’s magic is expanding faster than your vessel can handle."

​Renner’s amused aura vanished in an instant, replaced by a harsh, suffocating tension. He stood up abruptly, his broad palms slamming against the wooden table.

​"What does that mean?" Renner demanded, his Alpha aura flaring so hard the surrounding guards visibly stiffened. "What is going to happen to her?"

​"I don't know," I answered flatly.

​"You don't know?!" Renner growled, stepping out from behind the table, his jaw tightly clenched. "My Luna's life is on the line, Romona! My unborn child's life is on the line, and you stand there telling me you don't know?!"

​My blood boiled instantly. The sheer, unadulterated arrogance of this man slammed into me like a physical strike.

​"Well, forgive me for not spending my entire life learning how to give birth to your child, Renner!" I spat back, taking an assertive step toward him, entirely unfazed by his height. "I am doing you a massive favor here, remember that. So show some damn respect."

​Renner’s eyes flashed with a dangerous amber tint. "You do not speak to me like that! I am the Alpha of this pack—"

​"Yes, Alpha!" I sneered, cutting him off so sharply that the entire dining hall fell dead silent. "You are the great Alpha, yet you cannot seem to protect your own Luna or your unborn child! If you don't mind your words, I will leave this territory instantly. I would not care if I am bound to that baby, and I would not care if I and that baby dies!"

​The room went so still you could hear the crackle of the hearth fire. Gideon held his breath, his eyes darting between us.

​Without waiting for Renner's response, I turned on my heel, clutching Noah tightly against my chest, and stormed out of the hall with my cloak billowing behind me.

​As I marched down the stone corridor toward the crisp morning air outside, my hands shook with raw, burning rage.

​After three long years, he hadn't changed. Not one bit.

​He was still the same arrogant, controlling ruler he had always been. Even back when we were together, his pride had been his greatest flaw—talking down to people, demanding absolute submission, ruling through fear. If anything, he had only grown worse.

Romona’s POV

​After the disastrous scene in the dining hall, I spent two brutal hours in the training yard, taking my fury out on wooden dummies until my knuckles were bruised and bloodied. I took a long, ice-cold bath, letting the freezing water shock the residual rage out of my skin, then put Noah down for his afternoon nap.

​Watching his small chest rise and fall rhythmically against the quilt, I kissed his temple and stepped out into the quiet common room.

​Gideon was waiting by the fireplace, leaning against the mantle with his arms crossed.

​"I was just about to call for you," Gideon said softly, stepping toward me. "I wanted to speak with you."

​"I was going to find you to speak with you too," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest and taking a deep breath.

​Gideon gave a small, curious nod. "Okay. You go first."

​"I need a favor from you, Gideon," I said, my voice dropping into a desperate, low register. "A big one."

​"Anything for you, Mona," he answered without a second of hesitation. "You know that."

​"I need you to help me find my family."

​Gideon froze, his dark brows drawing tight in sheer surprise. "Your... birth family? Mona, you've been away from them your entire life. You never cared about looking for them before. Why now?"

​"Because I need answers!" I hissed softly, glancing toward the bedroom door to make sure Noah wasn't waking up. "I don't know what these things are, Gideon! I know I’ve always had powers—you know it, I know it, and probably King Alistair knows it. But the reason nobody else ever knew was because it never showed! It was buried!"

​I paced the length of the hearth, my hands shaking.

​"And now, suddenly, it's doing things I can't control," I continued, terror bleeding into my words. "Things I don't understand. I heard Noah’s heartbeat from a mile away in my head, Gideon! I am scared. I don't know my own capabilities, and I refuse to be exposed. I don't want to be seen as a threat. I don't want anything happening that will keep me away from my son."

​Gideon watched me intently, his tone calm and grounding. "What if this other side of you is just waking up because it was suppressed for too long? What if it's just part of your growth?"

​"That is exactly why I need to find my parents!" I countered, taking a step toward him. "I was never supposed to have this alien blood in me. It never made sense. I was never normal. But I need to know—is this part of me the reason my blood can heal people? What exactly is happening to me? I need to know who my parents were. I need to know what they were."

​Gideon let out a long, heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "It's going to be hard to find them, Romona. You know they left you for adoption when you were just a baby. The only way we can trace a cold paper trail like that is if we reach out to... you know who."

​My blood ran cold. My jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached.

​"I am not reaching out to her," I snapped coldly. "I will never reach out to her."

​"It is the only way to find your birth parents, Romona," Gideon pressed gently, taking my hand in his. "You have to let your pride down. Be the bigger person and talk to her."

​"Why would I speak to someone who tortured me and expects me to be grateful for it?!" I snarled, pulling my hand away as old, bitter scars burned beneath my skin. "She raised me, yes, but in the most painful, cruel way possible. I would have been better off starving on the streets!"

​"That is not true, Mona," Gideon said firmly, his eyes full of sympathy. "Okay? She might have been wicked. She might have been selfish, self-centered, and a terrible guardian. But she has always loved you. Tony has always loved you in her own twisted way."

​The mere sound of her name—Tony—made my stomach turn.

​I turned away, staring into the crackling fire, refusing to let the bitter tears in my eyes fall.

​"I won't go to her," I said quietly, my voice unyielding. "I prefer if you go on my behalf."

​Gideon looked at me for a long moment, seeing the absolute finality in my posture. He nodded slowly.

​"Very well," Gideon murmured, pulling his cloak around his shoulders. "I'll see to it. I will visit Tony myself and get whatever information she has on your biological parents."