Alpha, She Is Done With You

Chapter 02

Chapter 2

Sora’s POV

Yuki’s gem-like eyes sparkle with innocent excitement. She looks like she is waiting for me to celebrate the end of our family with her.

“Why… would you say that?” I force the words out.

She blinks. “Everyone in the pack is saying it. I’m excited for Aunt Lyra to come back too!”

My body freezes. A sharp icicle stabs straight through my heart. My throat closes up. I cannot speak. Without a word, I scoop her into my arms and carry her up the stairs. This is the first time in years I hold her so tightly. I need to feel that she is real.

I set her on the bed, cup her soft little face, and kiss her forehead, her nose, and her cheeks like I am starving. Her sweet pup scent brings me a moment of peace.

But when I pull back to tell her Mommy will always love her, I see something that turns my blood cold.

Yuki lifts her small hand and wipes the places I kissed. She does not just brush them. She rubs hard, over and over, until her delicate skin turns an angry red.

“Mommy, I’m starting school soon,” she says, turning away. The disgust disappears and pure excitement takes its place. “I’m going to Silver Paw Moonlit Academy. Grandma says the kids there learn music and dance. It’s so much fun. That’s where an Alpha’s child belongs.”

Silver Paw Moonlit Academy? I have never heard of this new school. But I do not want to ruin her rare happiness.

“Okay,” I swallow the bitterness and force a smile. “If you want to go, we will go.”

“Thank you, Mommy!” She jumps up with joy. For a second, she finally looks like a real child.

I touch my flat stomach without thinking. Maybe a new life is already growing inside.

“Yuki,” I lower my voice. “Do you want a little brother or sister?”

She stops and thinks seriously. “I want a brother. Grandma says I need an heir brother to play with.”

“But…” My eyes burn. “What if Mommy is scared?”

The memory of heavy bleeding, cold metal instruments, and the feeling of drowning never left me.

Yuki frowns. Her voice is calm and matter-of-fact. “Then Mommy shouldn’t be so selfish. You gave birth to me, right? Giving birth to a brother is what you’re supposed to do.”

I stand there stunned. It feels like someone stripped me naked and threw me into the forest. This is the child I nearly died for. I have guarded her for six years. Every nightmare, I was the one by her side.

“Yuki,” my voice cracks. “Aren’t you afraid of losing Mommy?”

She waves her hand impatiently. “Ugh, I’m going to sleep. You talk too much.”

The door slams shut. I stand in the dark hallway feeling my life slip away through the c***k.

The next morning comes too soon. I force myself through the motions—showering, dressing, driving to the Pack hospital before the sun fully rises. The familiar sterile smell of the corridors does nothing to ease the hollow ache in my chest.

I am reviewing patient charts when the head nurse appears beside me, her expression troubled. She glances around the empty hallway before lowering her voice.

"About that advanced trauma training position I mentioned yesterday," she begins carefully. "The one we discussed?"

I look up, confused. "I haven't made a decision yet. I wanted to speak with my family first—"

"That's just it," she interrupts gently. "The position was cancelled this morning, because you declined." She pauses, watching my face carefully. "They said you or your family submitted a withdrawal request."

My stomach drops.

I did not submit anything. I did not decline anything. I was going to ask Ethan today. I was going to try.

"I..." The words stick in my throat. "I didn't—"

"I know," she says gently, and the pity in her eyes is almost worse than anger. "I just needed to confirm. The spot was extraordinary, Sora. It would have opened doors." She pauses. "You really didn't want to go?"

The question hangs in the air. The honest answer is burning on my tongue, but I swallow it down.

"No," I lie, because it is easier than the truth. "No, I... I decided it would be too much."

She nods slowly, clearly not believing me. " These positions don't come around twice."

She walks away, leaving me standing in the hallway feeling hollowed out.

It takes me less than ten minutes to drive to Violet's office. She is sitting behind her desk, perfectly composed, reviewing documents with the kind of focused attention she never gives to me.

I do not bother with pleasantries.

"You cancelled the training position," I say quietly.

She does not look up. Just sets down her pen with deliberate slowness.

"A wolfless Omega with no standing," she says, her voice ice-cold. "What makes you think you have the right to represent this Pack? "

The words land like stones.

"I need to speak with Ethan," I say instead, turning to leave.

"He will tell you the same thing," Violet calls after me, and her voice carries the certainty of someone who has already discussed this with him.

The Packhouse corridors feel longer when you are walking toward a confrontation. When you are walking toward answers you are afraid to hear.

Ethan's Beta is standing guard outside his office door. He looks up as I approach, and something flickers across his face—pity, perhaps, or sympathy for what is about to happen.

"Alpha is with someone," he says, not unkindly. "You will need to wait."

I nod and stand against the wall. The hallway is quiet, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead with a steady, rhythmic hum. I count the cadence of that sound—one, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. The pattern becomes hypnotic. Soothing, in a way nothing else is.

Hours pass. Three. Four. Five. I am still counting the hum of the lights when the office door finally opens.

I smell that perfume. Her perfume.

"The guest has left," the Beta says, holding the door open. "You can go in now."

I step into Ethan's office and close the door behind me. The space is large, powerful, organized. And it still smells like her.

Ethan is behind his desk, straightening papers like he has not just finished spending time with another woman. He looks up, and I watch his expression shift from administrative focus to something more guarded.

"Sora," he says, surprise flickering across his face. "What are you doing here?"

"The training position," I say without preamble. "Why was it cancelled?"

He sets down his pen. Takes his time answering, which tells me everything I need to know about whether this was his decision or his mother's.

"Pack hospital personnel matters are not your concern," he finally says.

"It was offered to me," I reply, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands. "It was my decision to make. Why was it cancelled?"

"Because," he says, leaning back in his chair, "these external positions create unnecessary attention. The Pack's Luna taking on outside work raises questions. "

"So." I sit down without being invited, my legs too weak to hold me up any longer. "You decided for me."

“Sora,” he corrects, which is not really a correction at all. "I made the decision that was best for the Pack. For our family."

I look at him—really look at him—and something inside me cracks. This is the man I have been trying to reach for seven years. This is the man whose approval I have been chasing. And he will never, ever see me as someone whose choices matter.

"I would have been excellent at that position," I say quietly.

He does not respond. Instead, he leans forward slightly and, without looking at me, reaches across his desk and slides a glass of water toward the edge. The handle faces toward me. It is a small gesture—thoughtful, even—but I have seen him do this exact same thing with Lyra. I have watched him prepare his office space for women who matter to him.

The realization hits me like ice water.

He did this for her first. This habit, this careful attention—it belongs to someone else.

I look away and stand up. "I need time to think."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I regret the surrender. I regret the way I am folding, the way I always fold.

"Sora," he says, and his voice is softer now. He has noticed my distress, which means he will now work to manage it. It is what he does. It is what he has always done. "Come here."

I should not go. I should walk out. I should do something—anything—that does not involve moving closer to him.

Instead, I turn back.

He is standing now, waiting for me to cross the distance between us. When I do, he cups my face in his large palm, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Are you still upset about the training position?" he asks, and his voice carries that careful tone—the one he uses when he wants me to stop resisting. "I only cancelled it because I do not want you to overextend yourself. You are already working so hard. I wanted to protect you from that burden."

"I needed time," I whisper.

"Then let me spend this evening making it up to you," he says, and his voice drops lower, more intimate. "I can be very persuasive. "

The Mate Bond stirs inside me at the promise in his words. This is familiar. This is the part where he reminds me why I have stayed. This is the part where my body answers before my mind can protest.

But something is different this time.

"No," I say, and I even surprise myself with the firmness in my voice. " I am not in the mood."

For a moment, something flickers across his face—irritation, perhaps, at being refused. But it passes quickly, replaced by a smile that does not reach his eyes.

"I know you are upset," he says, and already he is lifting me, carrying me toward the leather sofa against the far wall of his office. "But I also know this will help."

"Ethan, stop," I say, trying to push against his chest. "I said I do not want—"

"I know what you said," he replies, and his tone has shifted. It is no longer soft. It is no longer a request. He sets me down on the cool leather and immediately covers my body with his, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand.

"I am not in the mood," I repeat, trying to pull away.

"You will be," he says simply, and he lowers his head toward my neck.

I press both palms against his chest, using every bit of strength I have to resist. "Ethan."

But his grip on my wrists is absolute. Unyielding. His strength is infinitely greater than mine, and we both know it.

I cannot move. I cannot escape.

I am trapped. By HIM.