Alpha, She Is Done With You

Chapter 03

His other hand catches my chin. Hard. Not letting me turn away. Then his mouth comes down.

"You'll like it," he says.

Then his eyes go blank.

Just like that, in one second, he's not here anymore. His gaze scatters, unfocused, that state I know so well and can never be part of. Someone's reaching him through the mind-link.

The pack's own way of talking. Wolf to wolf, deep in the mind. No phone. No sound. You just need a wolf.

I don't have one. I never have.

Seven years married, and I've never once known what he says in there. Who he says it to. What his voice sounds like when he does. It's a door I stand outside of, always.

He comes back. Pulls his hand off me.

"I'm on my way," he says to the air.

Then to me: his grandmother wants to see him. She's the only one in this family who's ever been kind to me.

"Do you want me to come with you?" I ask.

He turns me down. He leaves alone. I go back to work.

In the afternoon I take an hour off to pick Yuki up from the new Moonlit Kindergarten.

She told me over and over not to come. I couldn't help it.

I stand at the gate in the cold wind. I'm not in a long dress. You can't wear one on shift. So my leg is out there for everyone to see, the brace, the way I walk, all of it.

A few parents waiting nearby turn to look at me. Their eyes do something I can't quite read.

I figure it's the leg. I'm used to the leg.

To avoid their faces I look down at my phone.

Lyra's posted again. A side profile, a pleased little smile at the camera. One caption, one tag.

#see how fast your man runs to your side

I look at it for two seconds. Then I let out a bitter little laugh.

No wonder he dropped the mind-link so fast. No wonder "I'm on my way" came out so smooth. And he told her it was his grandmother.

A teacher comes over. She sees me standing in the wind and asks, friendly enough, "Which child are you here for? Do you want to wait inside?"

"I'm Yuki's mother."

She pauses. Looks at me. Then, "You're Yuki's mother? But the enrollment file doesn't list you."

My smile freezes on my face.

"The file… what does it say?"

She starts to answer and can't. A wave of kids comes pouring out and cuts her off. I look past her shoulder, into the yard.

Yuki walks out. Holding someone's hand. Head tipped up, talking, her eyes bright.

The hand she's holding is Lyra's.

The two of them come out like a photo somebody set up on purpose. Lyra bent down to listen, a smile at the corner of her mouth, sun on both of them. The parents nearby step out of the way without being asked. Some of them are already watching.

I go over. I stand in front of them.

Lyra looks up. See me. No surprise in her eyes at all. Just that perfectly measured softness.

"Sora. Long time no see."

Seven years. She's standing in front of me shinier than I remember, more at ease, and she still talks the exact same way. Every word light as air. Every word landing in the most precise place it could land.

We grew up in the Voss house together. I know better than anyone how she plays people. Light, effortless, natural as breathing.

I look down at Yuki. "Yuki. Come here. Mommy's taking you home."

Yuki glances at me. Steps closer to Lyra.

"I want to stay with Lyra a little longer."

"Yuki." My voice comes out harder than I meant it to. "I'm your mother. Come here."

Yuki pouts. Doesn't move.

Lyra leans down, soft, her hand on Yuki's shoulder. "Yuki, sweetie, your mommy's turned into the Hulk today. All green, about to blow. Should we go calm her down?"

Yuki snorts a laugh. She looks up at Lyra. Lyra looks back. They blink at each other, once. A little thing that belongs only to the two of them.

Like I'm not standing here at all.

Something opens a c***k in my chest.

Lyra straightens up. Her eyes move from Yuki's face to mine, like she's just remembered something.

"Yuki really is precious." A pause. Her gaze goes far away. "Sometimes I think… if my baby had been born back then, they'd be about Yuki's age now. Maybe they'd have been good friends."

The air goes solid.

I stand there and look at her.

She says it so calmly. So calmly it sounds like she's only reflecting. A sad woman imagining a child that never came.

The parents close enough to hear already have that look on. Pity for her. Then, all at once, they turn their attention to me.

I know what it means. The pack has one version of that story and it never forgets it. Lyra saw me, and that same night she lost the baby. Then she left and never came back. Everyone knows whose fault it was.

But I know the truth.

I went to her that day. Not to threaten her. To tell her what I'd walked in on. Her, and another man. The kind of closeness that isn't an accident.

I only wanted to warn her to think it through. That if the baby's father wasn't Ethan, it would hurt everyone in the end. I thought I was being kind. I thought she'd thank me.

Then that night she lost the child.

Then everyone said I did it.

I stare at the side of her face. Same look, still. Exactly the right amount of grief. Exactly the right amount of restraint. Seven years, and she's only gotten better at wearing it.

"Lyra." I hear my own voice, low. "You know what I actually said to you that day—"

My phone buzzes.

I look down. It's Ethan.

I answer. His voice is rough.

“Sora,” he says. “Grandma… she…. she wants to see you one last time. Come back home right now.”