The Alpha's Dark Solstice Claim

Chapter 8 - Place for me.

Marybeth

I saw him coming before he reached me. I was trying to avoid town, but I had to take care of a few things. That was the thing about Rowan. You didn’t miss him. Even when you wanted to. The square moved around him without realizing it, people shifting just slightly, space opening where he stepped.

Not obvious. Not dramatic. Just … inevitable. I should have left. Taken Eli and gone before he had the chance to try again. But I didn’t. Because a part of me … one I hadn’t managed to kill in seven years … wanted to hear what he would say.

Even if I already knew how it would end. I turned away from Rowan to see Eli a few feet away, crouched near the edge of the fountain, pushing a piece of ice back and forth with his boot. Careless. Safe. Mine.

“Marybeth.” I turned at the sound of my name.

“Yes, Rowan.” I sighed. His gaze flicked briefly to Eli, then back to me. That same pull … constant, instinctive … like he couldn’t help tracking him.

“I won’t argue with you about yesterday,” he said.

“That’s a relief.” I nearly laughed.

“But I’m not walking away from this.” Of course, he wasn’t. Rowan Blackridge didn’t walk away from anything he believed belonged to him.

“You’re very sure of yourself,” I said.

“I’m sure about him.” My chest tightened. I didn’t answer. Didn’t confirm. Didn’t deny. And he took that silence exactly the way I expected. As permission to continue. “I’ve thought this through,” he said, stepping closer. “I know what needs to happen.”

There it was. Structure. Control. Decision.

“What needs to happen?” I asked.

“I’m going to acknowledge him,” Rowan said. “Formally.” My stomach dropped, but I kept my expression neutral. “Bring him into Blackridge,” he continued. “Give him what he should have had from the beginning.”

“What would that be?” I tilted my head to one side.

“Protection. Training. Stability.” The words came easily. Too easily. Like he had already built the framework in his head and was just waiting to implement it.

“And then?” I asked.

“He’ll be raised there,” Rowan said. “In the pack. In the environment he was meant for.” Meant for. The phrase landed wrong. Like Eli was something that had been misplaced. Something to be returned.

“And you’re certain that’s what’s best for him.” I straightened my back fighting the urge to slap Rowan.

“Yes.” No hesitation. No doubt. I tilted my head slightly again.

“And Seraphina?” It was the only part of this I couldn’t predict. The only variable that might slow him down. It didn’t.

“She won’t be an obstacle,” Rowan said immediately. Something in his tone shifted. Not defensive. Certain. “It was her idea.”

“What?” I blinked.

“She suggested I acknowledge him,” he continued. “She understands what this means.” I stared at him.

“And what does it mean for her?” I pushed.

“She’s prepared for it,” he said. “She’ll… adapt.” Adapt. I almost smiled.

“She’s willing to take him in,” Rowan added. “Raise him. Treat him as her own.” The world went very quiet. Not all at once. Slowly. Like something inside me was pulling back piece by piece until all that remained was a sharp, clear understanding.

Of course. Of course, this was how it would happen. Not conflict. Not resistance. Inclusion. Absorption. A solution so clean it erased the problem entirely. I looked at him carefully. Waiting. Just in case I had missed something. Just in case there was more.

There wasn’t. No mention of me. No place for me. No question. No hesitation. Just a plan. Already decided. Already approved. Already moving forward.

“You’ve arranged everything,” I said quietly.

“I’ve arranged what matters.” Rowan pulled his fingers through his hair, which showed his frustration. My lips parted slightly.

“Have you?” I frowned.

“I’m trying to do what’s right.” Rowan frowned.

“For whom?” I was fighting really hard to keep my anger in check.

“For him.” Rowan looked confused.

“No,” I said softly. “For you.”

“That’s not fair.” His expression tightened.

“Isn’t it?” I glared at him.

“He’s my son.” He stepped closer. Frustration threading through his control now.

“And I’m his mother,” I softly growled, not giving in.

“I’m not trying to take him from you.” That was when it clicked. Fully. Completely. With a clarity so sharp it almost hurt. Yes. He was. He just didn’t see it that way. Because in his mind, he wasn’t taking. He was correcting. Reclaiming. Putting things where they belonged.

And I … I was simply not part of that equation.

“You’ve already decided where he lives,” I said.

“Yes.” Rowan nodded.

“You’ve already decided who raised him.” I tried to keep calm.

“Yes.” Sounded so damn sure of himself.

“You’ve already decided what he becomes.” I stood a little straighter.

“That’s not …” Rowan’s voice drifted off as I cut him short before he could say anything else.

“And where,” I continued quietly, “do I fit into that?” The question hung between us. Rowan didn’t answer immediately. And that was answer enough. My chest tightened painfully. Not from surprise. From something worse.

Recognition. I had done this to myself. Let myself believe … just for a moment … that this might be different. That he might have come back for more than obligation. That he might have seen me. Wanted me. Chosen me. Stupid. Naive. Seven years, and I still hadn’t learned.

“He needs both of us,” Rowan said finally. The words came carefully. Measured. Like he was trying to correct something he hadn’t meant to reveal.

“No,” I said. “He doesn’t.”

“That’s not your decision alone,” Rowan’s jaw clenched.

“It has been for six years.” Silence. Then …

“I’m not asking permission,” he said.

“I know.” And that was the problem. He wasn’t asking. He was informing. “I told you,” I said, my voice dropping, steady now. “My son’s father is dead.” Rowan went still.

“That’s not true.” He looked hurt, but I ignored his feelings.

“It is to us.” The lie came easier now. Because I needed it. Needed the distance. Needed the finality. “I will find him a father,” I continued. “Someone who will love him without conditions.” Without structure. Without turning him into something useful.

“I can do that.” Rowan’s gaze darkened.

“No,” I said. “You can’t.” The certainty in my voice hit him harder than anything else. “You already chose,” I added quietly. “Seven years ago.” Something flickered across his face. Gone almost immediately. Replaced by control. By distance. By the Alpha again.

“Understood,” he said. Flat. Final. He turned. Walked away. And this time … I didn’t stop him. I didn’t realize I was crying until I couldn’t see properly. The lights blurred. Voices faded. The square tilted slightly around me as I stepped back, one hand braced against the cold stone of the fountain.

I pressed my fingers hard against my eyes. Angry. At him. At myself. At the part of me that had still hoped. Still believed. Still wanted something that had never been mine to begin with. I had let myself forget. Just for a moment. And it had cost me. Again.

I dragged in a shaky breath and wiped my face roughly. No. Not again. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I wouldn’t wait. Wouldn’t hope. Wouldn’t leave space for someone who had already decided my place without asking.

Eli deserved better than that. I deserved better than that. My hand steadied as I reached into my coat pocket. Pulled out my phone. If Rowan was going to move … Then I would move first. No hesitation this time. No second chances.

I wiped the last of my tears away. Then I dialed. And waited.