Madame Alpha Delphine Part 4
Several years had passed since Jerald and Delphine had mated. The Hyatt alphas were elated, although still sadden by the loss of their son James. Hyatt was quiet when Liora arrived — the kind of quiet that comes after years of grief and slow healing. Serenity met her at the door with a warm, trembling smile, pulling her into a hug that smelled of lavender and old memories.
"You look well," Serenity said, brushing a stray curl from Liora's cheek.
"So do you," Liora replied gently. "Delphine sends her love. And the children... they're thriving."
Serenity's eyes softened. "I'm glad."
Dame joined them moments later, his expression brightening at the sight of her. "You're always a welcome sight, Liora."
They spoke for a while — about Hanover, about the pups, about the slow rebuilding of trust between the packs.
Liora didn't notice the figure standing at the far end of the hallway until she turned to leave.
A man leaned against the wall, half in shadow. Thinner than she remembered. Older. Eyes hollowed by guilt and distance. James. He didn't speak. He didn't approach. He only watched her — a flicker of recognition, a flash of something like regret.
Liora held his gaze for a heartbeat. Then she nodded once, polite but distant, and stepped outside. She didn't mention him to Delphine. Not yet. Some truths needed time to settle.
The second time Liora visited Hyatt, the air felt lighter. Serenity's garden was blooming again, and Dame had laughter in his voice that hadn't been there in years. They shared tea, exchanged news, and spoke of Ronan's first steps and Maris's quiet curiosity. Serenity listened with a soft ache in her eyes — joy for Delphine, sorrow for her own fractured family.
As Liora prepared to leave, she sensed him before she saw him. James stood near the back door, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. He didn't try to hide this time. He didn't speak either — but he nodded. A small, stiff, almost imperceptible nod.
Liora returned it. Not warmly. Not coldly. Just... honestly. She could see the turmoil in him — the longing to ask about Delphine, the shame that kept him silent, the fear of being unwelcome in his own home.
Serenity noticed him too. Her breath hitched, but she didn't call out to him. She simply placed a hand over her heart. Liora left quietly, carrying the weight of what she'd seen. This time, she told Delphine only one thing: "Hyatt is healing."
Delphine nodded, relief flickering in her eyes. She didn't ask about James. Liora didn't offer more.
By the third year, Hanover's children were growing fast — Ronan bold and bright, Maris thoughtful and steady, Kade climbing everything in sight, Silas clinging to Delphine like a shadow. And Hyatt... Hyatt was changing too.
When Liora arrived, Serenity greeted her with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Dame's hands shook when he poured the tea. Something was different.
"Is everything alright?" Liora asked softly.
Serenity hesitated. "James came home last night."
Liora's heart tightened.
"He's been... lost," Dame added quietly. "He comes and goes. But last night he stayed."
Liora nodded, absorbing the weight of it.
When she stepped outside to leave, she found James sitting on the porch steps, elbows on his knees, staring at the horizon. He didn't look up when she approached. He didn't need to. "I hear Hanover is doing well," he said, voice rough from disuse.
Liora paused. "They are."
A long silence stretched between them.
"Good," he whispered. "That's... good." He didn't ask about Delphine. He didn't ask about the children. He didn't ask for forgiveness. He just sat there, a man unraveling quietly under the weight of his own choices.
Liora watched him for a moment — not with pity, but with understanding.
"You should stay," she said gently. "Your parents need you."
James swallowed hard. "I don't know if I can. The damage I caused... The pain.. I can't look at them It's too much..."
Liora didn't push. "Then take it one day at a time." He's breaking, but he's trying. And sometimes that's all a person can do.
He nodded, eyes shining with something fragile.
