Page 51 of The Alpha's Fated Destiny

I stare down at the pathway, confused. How is this possible? I have not been here in decades. A creaking sound over the humming of insects has me looking over at the large oak tree that has a swing dangling from it. The same swing that my father and uncle set up together for me. The wooden seat is still intact and not protruding from my uncle's chest as it was the last time I saw it.

I touch the rope, and it burns my hand like it always did when I was a child.

I look around in wonder.

The sun is shining, the sunbeams scattered on the grass and the foliage from the trees providing shade. “A good place for a child to play” as my mother used to say. The rest of the garden that my mother and father created together is bathed in sunlight, the winding path leading to a set of chairs and a table where my mother often had her morning coffee.

I'm back home, in my childhood home, the one that was burned to the ground.

My last memory here was of my uncle throwing me to the ground to protect me. The shifter who had tried to attack me had torn the wooden seat of the swing and stabbed my uncle through the chest with it. I can still hear his blood gurgling from his mouth, that painful rattle in his chest, as my father‘s brother had looked at me in such shock. Even in his last moments, he had feared for me, worried for me.

They had set the garden on fire. Karina had made me stand there, her hand holding my jaw in place as she set fire to every memory, every piece of love that had gone into this place. Her laughter is ringing in my ears even now. My screams are still vibrating in my bones.

My parents had loved each other. They had adored each other, and I had been a product of that love. This garden was planted when my mother had been expecting me. It had grown with me and it died with my parents.

And yet here I stand.

Back at the time when Karina's rot hadn't touched this place.

A soft, familiar humming sound that I haven't heard in years has me turning around hastily.

My feet are moving on their own, anguish filling me.

As soon as I round the group of trees where the reading corner had been set up, I see a slim woman crouched by the herbs, shears in one hand, a ratty looking straw hat on her head, her dark curls tumbling down her back.

I grip the tree closest to me, my legs feeling weak.

Maybe it was all a bad dream.

Maybe, my mother never—maybe Karina was just a figment of my imagination.

I stagger forward, hope blooming within me.

Yes, all just a nightmare…

My feet suddenly come to a halt.

Not all of it was bad. Not everything was a nightmare. Sophia wasn’t a nightmare. She was like a ray of sunshine in a world that had grown too dark for me to find my way. She was my other half.

My mate was not part of that bad dream.

So where is she?

I must’ve made some sound, because my mother gets to her feet and turns around.

I’m a grown man who has experienced so many hardships that I’ve had to teach myself how to harden my heart. I learned not to shed tears over every misfortune. And yet when I look at my mother’s face, I can’t stop the tears from flowing.

“Mom.” A broken sound escapes my lips.

She smiles at me in that way she always did when she was exasperated with me. “Where did you go off to, Alex? You promised to help me get rid of the weeds. You're just like your father, running off at the first sign of work.”

She holds out her hand.

The skin of her palm is just as soft as I remember.

“Why are you crying, my sweet boy?” She wipes my tears away. "What happened? Was Patrick mean to you again?”

My mouth moves, but not a sound escapes. All I want to do is drink in her face. I don’t want this to be a dream. I want this to be real. “Mother…"

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