My Ex Alpha Claims My Son

I didn't see Mya that night, but I knew she was watching. I could feel her eyes on us during dinner, tracking every smile I shared with Cullen, every time Baker laughed at something his father said.

She was afraid. Good.

The next morning came too early. Dawn broke cold and gray over the Summit grounds, and I felt Cullen's hand on my shoulder, gentle but insistent.

"The traditional run," he murmured against my hair. "We should go."

I nodded, already feeling my wolf stirring beneath my skin. She'd been restless since we arrived, sensing the old territory, the old pain. But she was different now. Stronger. Fed and loved and whole.

We left Baker with Thomas, our most trusted guard, and made our way to the gathering point. Wolves were already shifting, their clothes discarded in neat piles as fur rippled across skin. The air filled with the sounds of transformation—bones cracking, muscles reshaping, the soft thuds of paws hitting earth.

I stripped quickly, folding my clothes with practiced efficiency. The morning air kissed my bare skin for just a moment before I let my wolf take over.

The shift came easy now. Painless. My bones flowed like water, my muscles stretched and reformed, and then I was standing on four legs instead of two. My wolf shook herself, silver-gray fur gleaming in the early light.

Cullen's wolf appeared beside me, massive and midnight-black. His eyes glowed gold, and when he pressed his muzzle against mine, I felt the bond between us hum with warmth.

Then I heard the small voice. "Mommy! Daddy!"

Baker came running, Thomas following at a more sedate pace. My son's face lit up when he saw us in our wolf forms, no fear in his eyes. Just pure joy.

"Can I ride with Daddy?" he asked, bouncing on his toes.

Cullen's wolf lowered himself to the ground, and Baker scrambled onto his back, small hands gripping the thick fur. My heart swelled watching them. This was family. This was love.

The run began.

We moved as a pack, dozens of wolves flowing through the forest like a living river. I stayed close to Cullen, my smaller form easily keeping pace with his longer strides. Baker's laughter rang out above us, pure and bright, and I felt something in my chest ease.

This was healing. This was freedom.

I didn't notice Axel until we crested a ridge.

He stood alone, his wolf form massive and gray-brown, watching us from a rocky outcrop. His ice-blue eyes tracked our movement, and I felt his gaze lock onto Baker.

My wolf's hackles rose. A low growl built in my throat.

Cullen sensed it immediately. His wolf shifted closer, putting himself between Axel's line of sight and our son. The message was clear: back off.

But Axel didn't move. He just stood there, staring, his body rigid with something that looked like hunger. Like possession.

I forced myself to look away. To keep running. To not let him ruin this moment.

But I could feel his eyes on us the entire way back.

By mid-morning, the Summit grounds had transformed into something almost festive. Families gathered in the gardens, children playing while their parents conducted business in the meeting halls. It should have felt safe.

It didn't.

Baker wanted to play in the sandbox near the rose garden, and I couldn't deny him. He'd been so good, so patient with all the adult politics and tension. He deserved to just be a kid.

I sat on a nearby bench, close enough to watch but far enough to let him have his independence. He was building an elaborate castle, his tongue poking out in concentration, when I saw her.

Mya.

She walked across the garden like she owned it, her hand resting on the shoulder of a boy about Baker's age. Lennox. I'd heard about him—Axel's supposed heir, though the timeline never quite added up.

My wolf stirred uneasily.

Mya's eyes found mine, and she smiled. It was the same smile she'd given me five years ago, right before my world ended. Sweet. Poisonous.

She bent down, whispering something in Lennox's ear. The boy's gaze shifted to Baker, and I saw something ugly flash across his young face.

I started to stand, but Mya was already walking away, leaving her son behind.

Lennox approached Baker's sandbox with the swagger of a child who'd been told he was special too many times. "That's a stupid castle," he announced.

Baker looked up, his expression open and friendly. "Hi! Do you want to help? I'm making towers."

"I don't play with rogue brats." Lennox's voice carried across the garden, loud enough that other parents turned to look.

My hands clenched. I took a step forward.

"I'm not a rogue," Baker said, his voice smaller now. Uncertain. "My daddy is—"

"Your daddy is nobody." Lennox kicked out, his foot connecting with Baker's carefully built castle. Sand exploded outward, towers crumbling into nothing.

Baker stared at the ruins, his eyes wide. I saw his lip tremble, saw him fighting tears.

But he didn't cry. He didn't lash out.

Instead, he looked up at Lennox and said quietly, "That wasn't nice."

Cullen's teaching. Turn the other cheek. Be the bigger person. Don't let them drag you down to their level.

I'd never been more proud. Or more furious.

Lennox's face twisted with rage. "You think you're better than me? My mom says you're nothing. She says your mom is a—"

"That's enough." My voice cut across the garden like a blade.

I was moving before I realized it, crossing the distance in seconds. I placed myself between Lennox and my son, and I let just a fraction of my aura slip free.

Lennox stumbled backward, his eyes going wide. Good. Let him feel what real power looked like.

"Go find your mother," I said softly. "Now."

He ran.

I turned to Baker, kneeling in the sand beside him. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

He nodded, but his eyes were still shiny with unshed tears. "I did what Daddy said. I didn't fight back."

"You did perfectly." I pulled him into my arms, breathing in his scent—sunshine and innocence and home. "I'm so proud of you."

But over his shoulder, I saw Mya watching from across the garden. She wasn't smiling anymore.

She looked afraid.

And I realized with cold certainty that this was just the beginning.