Alpha, Your Love Came Too Late

I set the platter of honey-glazed ribs on the table, the low murmurs I'd overheard from the kitchen ceasing like a pack silenced by an Alpha's glare.

Alpha Bran's golden eyes flicked to the ribs, and his jaw tightened when he noticed my gaze lingering on the half-empty plate.

"We couldn't wait," he muttered.

"Elena's flight was delayed for hours, and she was starving."

Then I saw it-Bran's hands, strong and steady, working at a rib.

He tore into the thick, sinewy meat with ease, his claws just barely visible beneath the curve of his fingers, slick with sauce as he stripped the rib clean.

I froze.

Bran never ate ribs.

The mess, the effort-it wasn't his style.

"You're eating ribs now?" I asked.

He didn't stop. "Yeah. Why?"

"You used to hate them," I said, quieter now.

"People change," his gaze finally lifting-past me, not to me.

Without a second glance, he tossed the rib onto Elena's plate.

"Eat something," he said curtly.

"Unless you want to pass out halfway through another glass."

Elena stared at the plate, her fingers trembling slightly as she clutched her wineglass.

I set my fork down with a soft clink, pushing back my chair. "I. I had some ribs while cooking. I'm full," I murmured, forcing a small smile. "You all enjoy."

I looked at Bran.

He didn't say a word, just picked up his glass and took a long sip of wine.

One of his friends, sensing the awkwardness, tried to mediate.

"Elena, it's in the past. Let it go. Everyone's here to enjoy themselves, not to-"

Elena cut him off, hastily wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She raised her glass, her voice trembling but defiant.

"You're right. Let's not dwell. To you," she said, looking directly at me, her tone sharp. "Thank you for taking care of Bran all these years. I'll drink to that."

Before I could react, Bran slammed his glass onto the table, his voice sharp as a blade.

"Enough, Elena."

Her hand jerked, spilling wine across my face.

The sting of the cold liquid didn't bother me as much as the silence that followed. I reached for a napkin, slowly wiping my face as Elena gasped.

"I-I didn't mean to." she stammered, then suddenly slapped herself hard across the cheek.

"I'm sorry!"

But she wasn't looking at me. Her gaze locked onto Bran, wild and desperate.

"Say it, Bran. Say you hate me. Say you'll never forgive me, so I can finally let go. Do you want me to die? Is that it?"

Bran's jaw clenched.

"Elena, stop it," he growled.

Without warning, she turned and bolted toward the balcony.

"Fine! I'll end it now!"

"Elena!" Bran was on his feet in an instant, catching her before she could throw herself over the edge. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

"Have you lost your mind? Enough of this!"

She writhed in his grasp, her voice cracking with sobs.

"Let me go! You don't forgive me! I'm already dead inside!"

Bran's voice dropped. "I forgive you. Is that what you want to hear? I forgive you."

Elena froze, her sobs quieting as she searched his face.

"Do you mean it?"

His hold loosened, and he let out a tired sigh. "Yes."

For a moment, the room was still.

Then, I stood, tossing the soaked napkin onto the table. Bran's head snapped toward me, his body stiff.

"You're leaving?"

I met his gaze briefly, cold and detached.

"Enjoy your forgiveness," I said, walking past them without another word.

Under the hot water of the shower, I finally tasted the salt on my lips.

Bran's head snapped toward me. "Wait-"

Before he could finish, Elena spoke.

"Bran." She paused. "Four years ago. I didn't have a choice."

I froze mid-step.

"My mom-" Her voice broke.