The Alpha's Dark Solstice Claim

Chapter 8 - The Mask.

Marybeth

The first thing Seraphina did was smile. She didn’t attack. She didn’t contradict Rowan publicly. She didn’t challenge the acknowledgment of Eli as heir. She smiled. And that was how I knew the real damage would come quietly.

The morning after the Winter Assembly, the town felt unchanged on the surface. The bakery still opened at six. The municipal trucks still ran their routes. Blackridge Security patrol vehicles moved through town like clockwork.

But the way people looked at us had shifted. Heir. That word followed Eli now. Not said aloud. Not directly. But present. I walked him to school myself, ignoring the subtle glances from other parents. Some curious. Some calculating. Some are already cautious.

“Do I have to tell them?” Eli asked softly as we reached the gate.

“No,” I said. “You don’t owe anyone explanations.” He nodded, but I could see the weight of attention pressing on him. It started small. His teacher asked if he’d be comfortable sitting closer to the front “for better observation.”

The after-school activity leader suggested delaying his participation “until the dust settles.” Dust. As if he were fallout instead of a child. I documented everything. Dates. Names. Phrasing. I had grown up watching power move beneath politeness.

Seraphina understood systems. She wouldn’t strike openly. She would shift perception. That afternoon, I received an email from the school counsellor.

“Subject: Behavioural Support Considerations” My jaw tightened as I read. Concerns about emotional intensity. About adjustment difficulties. About “pressure associated with recent public announcements.”

It was perfectly written. It was also perfectly positioned to isolate him. I didn’t respond immediately. Instead, I called Rowan. He answered on the second ring.

“Yes.” He sounded irritated, which was strange for him.

“Your Luna is going against our agreement,” I said calmly. A pause.

“Explain.” One word. Of course!

“School intervention,” I replied. “Youth programs reconsidering participation. Subtle reframing of Eli as unstable.” Silence stretched.

“That’s speculation,” he finally sighed.

“No,” I corrected. “It’s pattern recognition.” Another pause. He promised me that Eli would be safe.

“I’ll look into it,” he said. That was not the response I wanted.

“You don’t believe she’s capable of this,” I frowned.

“I believe perception is volatile right now,” he replied. “People are cautious.” I knew what he was talking about. Our pack wasn’t happy that I took over, but they were happy that I had a son who could take over from me.

That was until Rowan made his public announcement. Now everything is a mess again, and the last thing I need is his mate getting involved in something that has nothing to do with her.

“You’re underestimating her,” I said quietly.

“And you’re overestimating the threat,” he countered. There it was. The divide. Not hostility. But difference. That night, I attended a Calloway strategy session with my father. He listened as I outlined the developments without embellishment.

“She’s isolating him,” I pointed to the proof I brought to the meeting.

“Of course, she is.” My father nodded once.

“You’re not surprised.” My voice went up one octave.

“She’s Luna,” he replied. “She protects her position. Your son is a direct threat to her position.”

“I’m not attacking her position,” I growled softly, not meaning to.

“You don’t have to,” he shrugged. The truth settled heavy in my chest. I wasn’t challenging Seraphina directly. But my existence did. And Eli’s did more. Two days later, the next cut landed. Eli came home quieter than usual. Not distressed. Just … careful.

“How was school?” I asked. He hesitated.

“Fine.” He shrugged. That wasn’t true.

“What happened?” I pressed gently.

“They said I should think before I talk about pack stuff.” He looked down at his shoes.

“Who said that?” I frowned. Fine, we lived in a human town and had to hide what we were, but most humans just thought the kids were pretending or something.

“The lady who helps,” he replied. The counsellor.

“What exactly did she say?” I pushed a little more. He swallowed.

“That some kids might not understand. That I shouldn’t make people uncomfortable.” I noted how he fought back the tears. I crouched in front of him, steadying my voice.

“Did you say something wrong?” He was new to this life. I didn’t tell him what we were until we were back home, and I could show him. He shook his head quickly.

“I just said my dad is Alpha.” He shrugged. The word hit like a blade. I hated myself in that moment. For leaving, and for not raising him in a pack where he would have learned all this from birth.

“Did she say you shouldn’t say that?” I frowned.

“She said belonging means being careful.” He sighed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Belonging. That word again. That was not accidental. That was narrative. That night, I attended a small community fundraiser where both packs were present.

I had just started working in my father’s old position as part of the team that took care of the town planning. Seraphina moved through the room with effortless grace, thanking volunteers, complimenting decorations, radiating composure.

When she approached me, her expression was warm, but I knew it was fake.

“How is he adjusting?” she asked, scanning the room behind me.

“Adjusting to what?” My alpha tone forced her to look at me.

“To expectation,” she said gently. “It can be heavy.”

“You’ve been helping him understand belonging,” I said evenly. I wanted her to know that I knew she was the one who spoke to him. Her smile didn’t falter.

“I’ve been encouraging discretion.” Her smile tightened.

“He’s six.” I reinforced my tone to make sure it settled on her. She might be a Luna, but I was still Alpha.

“He’s an heir,” she countered softly. There it was. Not denial. Reframing.

“And you are teaching him to shrink,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I’m teaching him to survive,” she replied. The words were quiet. Controlled. Dangerous. Across the room, Rowan watched us. He couldn’t hear the exchange. But he felt the tension. Seraphina’s eyes flicked toward him briefly, then back to me.

“You and I both know,” she said calmly, “that this town tolerates strength only when it’s predictable.”

“And you think he isn’t?” I nearly lost it.

“I think he’s new,” she said. And then she walked away. Rowan approached a moment later.

“What did she say?” he frowned.

“The truth,” I sighed. I hated admitting it, but she was right.

“Meaning?” He frowned slightly.

“She believes control is protection.” I studied him as I said it.

“That’s not unreasonable,” he shrugged.

“And what do you believe?” I asked. He hesitated. That hesitation told me everything.

“I believe Eli needs structure,” he said finally.

“And warmth,” I frowned. Our eyes locked. There it was again. The thing neither of us named. If this had happened seven years ago, I would have read his doubt as rejection. Now I read it as conflict. He loved his son.

I didn’t doubt that. He respected his mate. That was clear by the way he made sure she was okay before he announced that he had an heir. He did not yet understand that those loyalties were beginning to diverge.

That night, I pulled Eli from all pack youth programs. No announcements. No explanation. Just absence. When the email from the youth coordinator arrived asking if this was temporary, I didn’t respond.

Two days later, I overheard it. Seraphina stood near the edge of the square speaking with a senior Blackridge member.

“The legitimacy isn’t the question publicly,” she said quietly. “But stability must be considered.” My blood ran cold. Legitimacy. Stability. I didn’t step forward immediately. I listened.

“And Calloway?” the elder asked. She was questioning whether Eli was really Rowan’s son!

“Calloway always overreaches,” Seraphina replied softly. That was when I moved. She saw me before I spoke. And for the first time since she began smiling, something flickered in her eyes that wasn’t composure.

It was calculation adjusting under pressure. The mask had slipped. And now I knew exactly what I was dealing with. Not overt hostility. Not public rivalry. But something far more dangerous. Strategic erosion.

And this time, I wasn’t waiting for Rowan to recognize it. Because if he didn’t soon … The damage would be irreversible.