Chapter 15
The night Magnus Vale declared her his daughter, my bones betrayed me. His voice didn’t just echo through the hall like a patriarch’s blessing; it cracked like thunder over the pack, a verdict delivered before every Alpha, every Beta, every trembling subordinate. His words didn’t merely honor blood; they rewrote it. In that instant, I was no longer the bastard son of a forgotten maid. I was the shadow-born heir of a Luna I had once dared trample into the dirt.
I staggered outside, lungs burning with more than smoke and wine. The night air cut sharply, and my wolf clawed savagely beneath my skin, restless, suffocating, as if it too had heard the truth it could no longer deny. My claws threatened to break, teeth ached for the shift, and still I caged him inside, trembling under the weight of my shame.
I pressed myself against the cold stone wall of the Vale keep, the fortress that loomed like a beast with a hundred eyes. The chill sank into me like punishment, searing hotter than fire. In the distance, I could hear the pack howling their loyalty to her name, her blood, while my own name rotted on my tongue like ash.
Lydia’s words rang like a curse in my ears.
‘Mark… your ma was Vale all along. And we treated her like rags.”
Not we.
Me.
The first cut was when I was sixteen. She stood in the kitchen, smiling faintly as if she belonged n a world that never let her. Two steaming bowls of Chicken soup in her hands, fragrant with cinnamon and chickpeas, the food of her people.
‘Dinner’s ready, love,” she murmured, voice softer than fur.
didn’t even sit.
‘I don’t want that peasant food. Do you think the pack wants to smell this filth when they walk hrough our house?”
Her hands trembled.
‘It’s your favorite,” she whispered. “You used to say it tasted like home.”
‘Yeah, when I was stupid. My friends’ mothers don’t cook. They command. They have Luna blood. You’re nothing but a maid.”
Her smile was the kind a wolf gives when trapped by stronger jaws. That night, I heard her crying through the walls. I told myself I didn’t care.
Years later, at a dinner with my father’s allied packs, I betrayed her again. She stepped out in a plain navy dress. My twin boys, Ken and Kurt, looked her over and laughed like jackals.
“Why’s Grandma dressed like a sad waitress?” Ken snorted.
“She looks like she’s here to take our orders,” Kurt added.
I should’ve snarled the truth. Instead, I smirked.
“She probably is. I should’ve made her wear black.”
Happy Reiection My Alpha
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The pack laughed. Even Lydia. Even Alpha Shawn. She just stood there, tray in hand, her wolf curled tight and silent. Later, I saw her outside, still in those heels, dragging trash bins heavier than her frame. Alone.
Before my wedding, she gave me a gift wrapped in silver paper.
“It’s nothing grand,” she murmured. “Just something from your childhood.”
Marga leaned in with a smirk. “Hope it’s not another ugly tea set.”
I didn’t defend her.
“She hoards junk. It’s the maid in her.”
Inside was a tiny gold bracelet, my name engraved in Arabic. She had saved for years to buy it
when I was still in her arms. I never thanked her.
At the twins’ birthday, lights, fire-breathers, half the aristocratic packs in attendance, she lingered in the shadows, a gift wrapped in faded red paper in her hands.
“Why is she here?” Ken sneered.
“Maybe she came to clean up,” Kurt mocked.
I chuckled. “She can’t help it. She thinks every gathering needs a servant.”
She left the gift behind, a scrapbook filled with photographs, drawings, and even the hospital band from when Ken was born. On the inside flap, she had written: No matter how big you grow you will always be my reason to smile.
I threw it out.
Now, back in the present, my knees hit the earth. The moon was high, but my wolf wouldn’t rise. I had taught my sons to treat her as less than a shadow, had mocked her food, her clothes, her sacrifices, had let my mistress sneer at her.
And now?
She was Stella Vale, unmasked before the pack as blood of the ancient line, Luna-born, heir to a dynasty that ruled more wolves than I could count. And I, her ungrateful son, was nothing but dirt beneath her heel.
I woke thrashing, my heart pounding in a rhythm too wild to be human. Sheets tangled like chains around my limbs, sweat clinging to me like the stink of fear. I could still see her eyes, not angry, not grieving, but hollow. She looked at me and saw no pup, no blood, no wolf. Just ash. Just nothing.
Her number was gone. No message. No bond tugging at my chest. The tether between us, mother and son, Luna and blood, was torn, shredded like a throat under claws.
I drove through the night without changing, the reek of sweat and despair my only armor. The gates of the Vale Packhouse rose ahead, silver fangs glinting under the moonlight, guarded by wolves in black SUVs. Their scents cut sharp, dominance, steel, obedience.
The guard sniffed the air, gaze slicing straight through my bones.
“Name?”
“Mark Ravenshade. I’m-”
His lip curled, revealing the edge of a fang.
Chapter 15
6:49 pm
“You’re not on the list.”
“I’m her son.”
The wolf stepped closer, nostrils flaring, as though my words carried the stench of rot.
“Stella Vale says you’re finished. You’re no kin. Don’t come back.”
He didn’t need to snarl. The weight of the pack’s rejection was heavier than any claw. One sentence, spoken without a growl, cut deeper than a throat torn open under the moon.
Chapter 15
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MARK’S POV
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.