Page 13 of The Alpha's Bullied Rejected Mate
He schooled his face, but internally, his mind was racing rapidly.
There was no mention of a child in the files.
How did a witch hide a child this old without leaving any trace? No digital footprints. More importantly, how had their surveillance missed it?
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Peach,” she said to the woman in a pleasant tone, offering a smile. “I didn’t expect you to be back this early.”
Marcus didn’t miss the glance she tossed toward the clock again.
So that was it.
That’s what the glances had been for. Timing his exit. Calculating the moment she could get him out before the child came home.
The older woman gave a small laugh and waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s nothing. He had so much fun that he had been insistent on returning early to tell his mama all about it.”
The woman handed over a bright blue backpack and gave the boy a parting pat before retreating with a gentle goodbye.
Aza closed the door. And for a second, her back was to the room. As if steadying herself. Then she turned around.
“I didn’t have fun,” the boy announced, his voice lower than the chipper tone he’d used moments ago. The excitement had faded from his face, leaving behind a quiet disappointment that sat too heavily on such small shoulders.
“Oh, sweetheart, what happened?” Aza’s features softened instantly, an expression Marcus hadn’t seen on her until now. It struck him more than it should’ve.
The boy’s lower lip jutted out a little as he replied, “Jayden, Jax, and Will all played superhero. I didn’t play superhero. They said I’m not strong enough.”
Her eyebrows furrowed in a frown, and then she smiled at the kid,
“No, sweetie. Don’t say that,” she whispered. “It’s just a game, okay? You’re strong. Stronger than you know. And you are Mama’s superhero.”
Marcus watched the scene, a strange weight unfurling in his chest.
His wolf was quiet. Not alert. Not growling. Just... still.
And that was stranger than anything.
He shifted in his seat, as if to shake the feeling off, but his elbow bumped the edge of the first aid kit resting on the tablebeside him. It clattered to the floor with a loud, ungraceful thud, drawing the mother-son duo’s attention to him.
Aza flinched, as though she had suddenly realized he was in the room with them.
The boy simply tilted his head at Marcus. “Mama, who is that?”
“He’s a guest,” she replied shortly. “Sweetie, why don’t you go to your room now and let Mama finish up here? I got you another one of your favorite books today. I’ll come read it to you before bed, okay?”
The boy’s face lit up. “Okay!”
But instead of heading toward the hallway like instructed, he turned and bounded straight toward Marcus.
Marcus tensed. Just slightly.
What did the kid want?
The boy stood in front of him now, small arms crossed and eyes narrowed in the comically serious way children mimicked adults. Studying him. As if trying to decide whether he was friend or foe.
Marcus couldn’t help it—his mouth curved.
This kid was bold.
He liked that.
