The Alpha's Dark Solstice Claim

Chapter 12 -First Day.

Marybeth

I chose the school before I could overthink it. That was the only way to do it. Besides, in a small town there usually isn’t a huge choice. If I stopped … if I let myself sit with the weight of what this meant … I might delay.

I might hesitate. I might convince myself that keeping Eli close, just a little longer, was safer. But safe wasn’t the same as right. And I had already decided. The building was modest. Clean. Structured. Quiet in a way that suggested order rather than absence.

Children’s voices carried faintly from somewhere deeper inside, bright and careless. Eli stood beside me, his hand slipping into mine without thinking.

“You sure about this?” he asked. I looked down at him. He wasn’t afraid. Just … aware.

“I am,” I said. That was only half true. But it was enough. We stepped inside together. The process was simple. Forms. Names. Questions I answered automatically, my voice steady even as something inside me tightened with every line I signed.

Emergency contacts. Guardianship. Authorization. Each word felt like a quiet admission. I couldn’t be everywhere anymore. I couldn’t control everything anymore. Eli sat beside me, swinging his legs slightly, watching the room with open curiosity. He trusted me. That made it worse.

“Alright,” the administrator said kindly, standing. “We’ll get him settled.”

“Now?” Eli looked up at me.

“Yes,” I said softly.

“Okay.” He hesitated for half a second. Then nodded. He let go of my hand. Just like that. No drama. No fear. Just trust. And walked away. I stood there longer than I should have. Watching him disappear down the hallway.

Feeling something shift quietly, permanently, inside my chest. This was the first step. Not just for him. For me. I turned and walked out before I could change my mind. The drive home felt too quiet. Too empty. The absence of his voice in the backseat pressed in on me, sharper than I expected.

I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel. Focused on the road. On something solid. Something I could control. Then … The feeling came. Subtle at first. A shift in the rhythm behind me. Not close. Not obvious. But consistent.

My gaze flicked briefly to the rear view mirror. A dark vehicle. Two cars back. Maintaining distance. Matching speed. I looked away. Pretended I hadn’t seen it. Kept driving. Took a turn I didn’t need to take. Slowed slightly. Then sped up.

The car stayed. Of course, it did. A quiet exhale left me. I didn’t confront it immediately. Instead, I turned again … sharper this time … cutting through a side street, looping around in a way that forced whoever was behind me to either commit or fall away.

They committed. Of course, they did. I slowed. Pulled over abruptly. And stepped out before the engine had fully settled. The car behind me stopped a few seconds later. I didn’t wait. I crossed the distance quickly, anger rising clean and sharp now that I had something to direct it at.

The driver’s door opened. Rowan stepped out. Of course.

“Are you serious right now?” I demanded.

“I wasn’t …” His expression didn’t shift.

“Following me?” I cut in. “Because it looks exactly like that.”

“I was making sure …” He looked a little shocked.

“I don’t need you to make sure of anything,” I snapped. My pulse was already too fast. Too loud in my ears. “You don’t get to trail me like I’m something you’re monitoring.”

“I wasn’t monitoring you.” He frowned.

“Then what were you doing?” I pushed. Silence. Too brief. Too telling.

“Watching,” he sighed, pulling his fingers through his hair. The word landed wrong. Of course, it did.

“Don’t,” I growled. “Don’t stand there and pretend this is normal.”

“I needed to know he got there safely.” Rowan sighed again.

“And you think I wouldn’t make sure of that?” My growl was a little louder this time.

“That’s not what I …” he started.

“Then what, Rowan?” I demanded before he could even finish his sentence. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you don’t trust me to take care of my own son.”

“I didn’t say that.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“You didn’t have to.” The air between us tightened. Thick. Charged. Too close to something neither of us was controlling properly. “Stop doing this,” I said, quieter now, but no less sharp. “Stop showing up where you’re not wanted. Stop inserting yourself into things that are none of your business.”

“He is my business.” The words came fast. Instinctive. I laughed once. Short. Bitter.

“No.” My voice dropped. “He isn’t.” Something shifted in his expression. Frustration. Control slipping, just slightly.

“I’m not trying to take him from you.” Rowan shook his head.

“Then stop acting like you are.” I lowered my voice a little more and a soft alpha growl escaped.

“I just want to see him.” Rowan kept pushing.

“No.” The word came immediately. Final. “He doesn’t need you.”

“That’s not your decision alone.” Rowan lowered his voice.

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

“I’ll stay back,” Rowan said. The shift in tone caught me off guard. Less force. More … negotiation. “I won’t interfere,” he continued. “I won’t approach. I won’t disrupt anything.” I didn’t respond. Because I didn’t trust it. “I’ll keep my distance,” he said. “Just … let me see him. From afar.”

The request settled between us. Simple. Dangerous. Because it wasn’t about control. It wasn’t about authority. It was about presence. And that was harder to refuse.

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give,” he added quietly. The words landed somewhere I didn’t want them to. Before I could respond … A horn blared. Loud. Too close. Everything happened at once. A car cut too sharply around the corner, tires skidding slightly on the cold pavement.

Too fast. Too close. I didn’t have time to react. Rowan did. His hand closed around my arm, pulling me back hard … into him, away from the edge of the road. The world blurred for half a second. Then stilled. His arms were around me.

Solid. Unyielding. Protective. My heart slammed against my ribs. Too fast. Too loud. Too familiar. For a moment … I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Because even after everything … After years … After distance and anger and everything that should have erased this …

My body still remembered him. Still responded. Still … I shoved him back. Hard.

“Don’t,” I snapped. But my voice broke. Betraying me. My chest tightened painfully. And before I could stop it … Tears burned behind my eyes. No. Not here. Not now. I turned away sharply, dragging a hand across my face.

Angry. At him. At myself. At the way, something as simple as his touch could still undo me.

“I hate this,” I muttered under my breath.

“Marybeth …” His voice was soft … too soft.

“Just stop,” I said, my voice shaking despite my best effort to steady it. I wiped at my face again, forcing control back into place. Slowly. Piece by piece. When I turned back to him, my expression was composed again. Or close enough.

Rowan watched me carefully. Something raw in his gaze. Unfiltered.

“I won’t lose him again,” he said quietly. The words landed differently this time. Not a claim. Not a demand. A promise. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he continued. “Any condition. Any distance. I don’t care.” I held his gaze. Said nothing.

Because agreeing would mean acknowledging him. And I wasn’t ready for that. Not openly. Not where it could become something real. So, I did the only thing I could. I wiped the last of the tears from my face. Turned. And walked back to my car.

No answer. No refusal. Just silence. And that was the closest thing to permission he was going to get.