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It’s a weird question, but for some reason it matters to me that there was once someone out there who loved me.
“When I first met her, she was holding you,” Noah tells me slowly. “She adored you. She was the one who gave you your name: Sophia Hope.”
My eyes burn with emotion, and I look away, not wanting Noah to see the tears in them.
“I never learned how she passed away,” he continues, “but I remember that I resented her—and you—because I assumed she had been my father’s lover. By the time I found out that was not true, you had already been sent here.”
The only thing I’ve ever known about my mother is that she died during childbirth. Nobody would talk to me about her, and the few times I tried to ask Alpha Black, I was shunned. So, to hear that someone actually knew my mother and the circumstances surrounding my birth has my heart pounding.
“Who was my father?”
Noah’s voice is careful. “I don’t know, Sophia. After that day at the creek when my father dragged me away, he told me your mother used to be an old friend of his. He had found her injured and your father dead. He had brought her back to the pack so she could safely give birth. But I feel like there’s more to the story than he told me. When I met your mother, my father took you from her arms and held you. He sat in the chair and gave you a bottle while your mother greeted me. And after she passed away, he put you in the orphanage. My personal belief is that my father had feelings for her, and after her death, he couldn’t bear to look at you. So, he sent you away.”
I press my lips together, trying to absorb this new information. Truth be told, I cannot imagine Alpha Black loving anybody.
Noah isn’t done. He turns to face me, his expression heavy. “I always believed my father killed my mother so he could bring his mistress into our home. I’ve since been proven wrong. As a child, I lashed out at another child who was in a less fortunate position than me. At the time, I didn’t think about how cruel my actions were, or how unfair. I didn’t care that you were suffering, just as long as I was no longer suffering. I shouldn’t have done any of it. I can’t imagine how many scars I left on you. Lately, it’s been weighing on my conscience. I know I can’t do anything about the past, but I want you to know that if you need anything now, I’ll help you.”
I wish I could call him a liar, but it doesn’t seem like he is one. It seems like his heart is heavy with the burden of the past.
“It’s okay.” It’s not easy to say these words, but it appears that Noah has changed, and perhaps it’s time for me to let go of my resentment. “I forgive you.”
He gives me a surprised look. “That easily? You don’t want to make me suffer?”
An ironic smile forms on my lips. “How am I supposed to make you suffer? I can’t do anything to you, Noah. The power disparity between us is too great for me to hurt you.”
My words are blunt, and they seem to have a bigger impact than I thought they would because Noah flinches.
“You’re right,” he says softly.
We sit in silence for a few minutes. I am consumed with thoughts of my mother.
“There is something you can do for me,” I begin hesitantly. “My mother. Can you tell me about her? What did she look like? What was she like? Did she love me?”
Noah fiddles with his fingers, thinking over my questions, and then he gives me a smile. “Like I said before, she loved you. She adored you, Sophia. And she was beautiful. She had long, silver hair that looked like a waterfall when it was down. Her eyes were a light purple—an uncommon color, but it suited her. And she was very kind. Even when I was filled with hate toward her, she was nothing but kind to me. On my first visit, she was eating an apple, and she cut me a slice and handed it to me. I don’t know why I remember that, but I do.”
From the picture he’s painting, I can almost see her, but I never will.
“Do you know where she’s buried?”
“At the edge of the town, near the creek, actually,” Noah tells me. “It’s a small, unmarked grave under a willow tree.”
I stare at the ground in front of us. “So, she wasn’t given a proper pack burial?”
“I suppose not.” He sounds regretful. “From what I’ve been told, my father buried her quietly.”
“I see.”
Those don’t sound like the actions of a man who was in love with someone. Pack burials are an important ritual because we believe the spirit returns to the Goddess. Certain rites have to be carried out for that to happen.
He never gave my mother any of that.
Noah can believe whatever he wants, but I stand firm in my own beliefs about his father. Alpha Black is incapable of loving another person. I find it very hard to believe that he cared about my mother. If he did, he would not have treated me the way he did. And he never would have buried her without conducting the proper pack rituals.
“I should get going,” I say after a few moments. “My break ends in five minutes.”
I get to my feet and am about to walk away when I feel Noah’s hand curl around mine, stopping me in my tracks.
“Sophia?”