Chapter 270
Chapter 270
ALEXANDER
+25 Points
The pack house was quiet this morning in a way that felt unnatural, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. I sat in the office with my chair turned toward the window, my back to the desk, staring out at nothing in particular. The glass faintly reflected a version of me I barely recognized. From the outside, it probably looked like control. From the inside, it was just absence.
I couldn’t remember how long I’d been sitting there. Minutes, maybe hours. Time had lost its shape lately. Everything did.
I didn’t hear the door open.
I didn’t hear footsteps… I didn’t smell anything either.
It wasn’t until a hand touched my shoulder that I flinched sharply, every muscle in my body reacting
on instinct. My breath caught, my spine going rigid–but I didn’t turn.
I didn’t need to.
“Irene,” I said quietly.
Her hand tightened just a little, like she was relieved I’d recognized her and not snapped at
whoever dared touch me. She stepped closer, her voice soft, careful.
“Alex… are you okay?”
The question almost made me laugh.
I smirked faintly and nodded. The motion was automatic, practiced. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
I spun the chair around then, facing the desk, facing her. She didn’t give me time to do anything
else before she leaned in and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me while I was still seated. I
froze for half a second–then let it happen.
Irene had always hugged like she meant it. Not rushed. Like she was anchoring herself to you, and
you to her.
I rested my hands lightly against her back, more for appearance than comfort. I already knew what she was going to say. Everyone knew by now. Nothing stayed quiet in this pack for long.
“I heard what happened,” she murmured near my ear. “I’m so sorry.”
There it was.
I pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, and nodded again. “Thank you. It’s fine,” I said. “I’m
fine.”
< Chapter 270
I even tried to smile. I could feel it pull at my face, stiff and unconvincing.
+25 Points
Her brows drew together immediately. “No,” she said gently. “You’re not. And that’s okay. You don’t have to pretend with me, Alex. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
I exhaled through my nose and reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly between both of mine. “I know,” I said. “And I appreciate it. Really. But I am fine.”
The lie slid out easily. Too easily.
She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue either. She never pushed when she knew pushing
would only make me retreat further. We stood there for a moment like that, the quiet stretching
again.
Then the door opened.
I glanced at Irene, my expression flattening. My voice came out calm, almost tired. “What is she doing here?”
Irene winced. Just slightly. That was answer enough.
Before she could say anything, Helen stepped fully into the office. If anyone else walked in on this scene, they’d think she was the picture of a concerned mother coming to comfort her son.
“Alexander,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “Is it a crime to come sympathize with my son and his mate,” she continued smoothly, “who just lost their unborn child?”
I didn’t answer… didn’t trust myself to do so without stepping out of line.
I stared at the desk instead, at the neatly arranged files I hadn’t touched, at the surface that
suddenly felt like the only solid thing in the room. Deep down, I wished Irene had stopped her from coming. Or at least warned me. With Helen came tension–always. And lately, distrust.
Especially now.
Especially with alliances she’d chosen that I hadn’t forgiven or forgotten.
And most of all, because I didn’t want her anywhere near Faye.
Irene looked between us, her eyes pleading silently. She knew exactly what I was thinking. Knew how close I was to telling Helen to leave outright.
I swallowed it.
For Irene’s sake.
“Faye is resting,” I said finally, my tone even. “She doesn’t need any disturbance right now. But I’ll tell her you asked after her.”
Helen didn’t respond. She just stood there, her hands clasped in front of her, studying me in a way
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< Chapter 270
+25 Points
that made my skin prickle. For the first time in a long while, something cracked through her
composure.
Hurt.
It was subtle. Anyone else might have missed it. But I didn’t.
Her eyes softened, not with pity, but with something closer to pain. Like it stung that I felt the need to keep Faye from her. Like it wounded her that she was being treated as a threat by her own son.
As if she’d ever hurt Faye. Well, I wouldn’t know, and I didn’t want to find out.
I could tell she wanted to say something else. Wanted to defend herself. Wanted to argue that she wasn’t the enemy here. But she didn’t. Maybe she finally saw that this wasn’t the moment. That whatever resentment sat between us could wait.
She nodded slowly instead.
“I’m so sorry, son,” she said quietly.
The words landed heavier than I expected.
I wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.
For betraying my trust?
For the choices she’d made that forced me to put distance between her and my mate?
Or for the fact that I’d lost my child?
The question pressed in on me, unwelcome. I lifted my gaze just in time to see it flicker across her face too, like she’d felt it as well. For a brief second, no one said anything else.
Then she smirked–small, controlled–and reached up to adjust her glasses, the familiar gesture settling her back into herself.
“Excuse me, ” she said.
She turned and walked out of the office, the door closing softly behind her.
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