This is part one of a special two-part chapter that is written in third person POV!
***
The little boy knew his father wasn't going to return home when he heard his mother weep through the cracks of his parents' door.
"Vincent Jude Romero!" Vincent could hear Íngrid, his mother's right-hand woman and close friend, calling his name from down the hall. But his mother's soft, melodic cries tuned out Íngrid's squeaky, high-pitched shouts.
"There you are!" His ears twitched at her footsteps, seemingly determined, storming his way. When her footsteps ceased, he felt the body heat of another warming his skin. He didn't need to turn to know it was her. Her figure was towering over the left side of his body.
Íngrid sighed. "Vincent, amor. . . I thought I told you not to go anywhere."
Vincent balled his little fingers into fists, looking down at the floor.
He ran off the first chance he got when she let go of his hand. He knew he shouldn't have left her side. But his mother's cries were too powerful to ignore. So powerful, his chest ached with mourn for news that hadn't been confirmed yet.
"Sorry," he murmured.
"It's okay. Just don't do it again, alright? Let's leave your mother for now." She reached for his hand and guided him away from the door. He glanced back at it, the gears in his little brain making him wonder.
Should he have checked on his mother? Was it okay for them to leave her alone when she was clearly in pain? He didn't know what was the right thing to do. After all, there wasn't much a seven-year-old could do to bring comfort to his mom, in the wake of losing a mate.
"Okay," he murmured again, taking Íngrid's hand.
"The other pups have been looking for you. They like playing with you, you know? You should go play with them. Mommy promises to have a discussion with you soon, okay?"
Vincent nodded, regardless, he knew what she was trying to do. It was the same thing most adults did when they were talking to other children within the packs. But he was smarter than she treated him. He wished she would have realized that.
Vincent stopped, sliding his hand out of hers. "Where's my dad? He's not coming back, is he?" Íngrid's movements slowed until she stopped too, her smile falling from her face.
She hesitated before she asked, "Vincent, why do you say that?"
"He promised he would be back before the short hand moved to one. The short hand is on four now. Mommy won't stop crying. And daddy isn't back yet." Vincent pointed to a clock.
The round, brown device sat on a wall ahead of them. Its smallest hand was moving at a pace that was slow and agonizing. Íngrid had made it clear that she was unsure of how to proceed with the topic. Her mouth opened and closed, despair leaking from her silence.
It was only an hour ago Valor had received the news that their alpha, Alonso, was shot down at close-range by two men hunting in the area. The bullet severed his stomach; his men were unable to make it back through the woods without Alonso's wound bleeding out.
But the few who knew, including Mariana, mourned in silence until it was time to relay the news to the pack; Valor no longer had an alpha. A pack without an alpha was a pack without guidance. Those without guidance were set for failure, unless someone filled Alonso's place. Unfortunately, Vincent was far too young to take his father's place. He hadn't even experienced his first shift yet.
"Vincent. . ." Íngrid hesitated again. "I think it's best that you wait and hear what your mother has to say," she settled with.
Vincent knew that was code for he was right. But he didn't push his luck. Íngrid wasn't going to tell him what he wanted to hear, only his mother would do so. He'd just have to be a patient little wolf-pup and wait. So, he sighed, and bowed his head.
"Okay, then," Vincent mumbled.
She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Come on. The other pups are waiting for you." Her smile caused a smile to gloss over his own face.
He could trust Íngrid. She was kind. She was obedient to his parents. But most importantly, she was like a second-mother figure to him—warm, caring, protective, and strong. Nothing could break her or his mother, even in the midst of battle. That was what he thought, at least.
But as the days went on, he'd noticed a change. The wolves of Valor were growing restless and things were shifting. However, it appeared his mother was to blame. Because people talked. People always talked. Vincent could hear all of their whispers.
Their thick, heavy Spanish accents clinging to the words most of the people had been spreading through gossip within the pack; especially the other mothers who judged. It had become something constant that he'd grown immune to. He didn't understand it, but he knew.
"Will William be taking Alonso's place as alpha?" Outside of the small white house, where most of the children resided while their parents were busy throughout the day, the whispers started again. The culprits were standing a few feet ahead of Vincent and his mother, unaware of their presence.
"There's been no further word about it yet," a voice replied.
"What, does Mariana think she can handle this all on her own? We haven't even seen her around lately. It's been a week. They should just allow William to take his rightful place as alpha! He is beta, after all. Next in line. The child isn't fit."
"Sí, between you and I, I heard she hasn't been doing so well though. I have no doubt in my mind that it's because of the sudden ties cut to her strong mate's bond. Donde hay amor, hay dolor, I mean, just look at her son. It seems like she's been neglecting that poor boy."
"Shit, shh, cállate! You're too loud," the other woman hissed in a quiet whisper.
"Oh my." There was a short gasp.
The two women turned to the mother and son pair approaching them from behind, from the house porch. Both Vincent and Mariana paid them no mind. Mariana held Vincent's hand in hers with her head high, eyes forward, and Vincent with his head down, eyeing the floor.
"You two have a responsibility to help watch over the children who are within that home depending on you, don't you? Te sugiero que hagas eso entonces." Mariana's words were firm. Nothing else needed to be said.
"See, what did I tell you!? You've no shame, Susan," the woman who hissed, scolded the other. That was the last thing they heard before the two women scurried inside the house, the screen door slamming with a loud rattle behind them.
Vincent and Mariana continued to walk in silence. They were returning to his home, where she could lock herself in her room, and hide from all of her responsibilities to the pack. There was no doubt in his mind that's what she was eager to do. It's all she'd ever been doing lately.
He peeked up at his mother, whose face was as hard as stone.
There was a blanket of intimidation covering what she truly felt. But he could feel her racing pulse in his fingertips. Their words were a layer of poison slowly killing her at best. It'd been hard to ignore the grim atmosphere looming over everyone, like a ghost haunting, since the news spread.
"Mommy." Vincent squeezed her hand for her attention.
Her skin was raw under the pounds of make-up she used to hide the stress, and exhaustion. He could feel how rough her hands were now. She was cold, distant, unhinged. Vincent knew, for sure, he could never be as numb as she was, even though he was without a father now too.
When she didn't respond, he tried again.
This time, he could see her muscles flex, and her shoulders tense, as though she had just snapped out of a daydream. She let go of his hand, pausing to look down at him. He stared into her eyes, and she could feel the questions threatening to pool out of his mouth.
She hesitated, before asking, "¿Qué pasó, mijo?"
Vincent's breathing was leveled, unlike hers. She resisted the urge to show vulnerability in front of him. She couldn't. She needed to be strong for both of them. For everyone. But she knew she wasn't. She didn't think she'd ever be.
"Is everything going to be okay?" he asked.
"Mijo"—she rolled up the bottom of her long brown skirt to bow on one knee, and placed her hands on his cheeks—"have any of the other pups been messing with you?"
"No." He shook his head.
"Are you sure?" She caressed his jaw, frowning at him.
He nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."
"Good." She let out a brief laugh, pinching his cheeks in a loose grip. "I'm relieved. . . I worry about you, you know."
He couldn't smile back. Not when he noticed the smile on her face didn't reach her ears. Her pulse was racing again. He could practically hear her heartbeat trying to break through her rib cage. This wasn't the mother who nurtured and cared for him for the past seven years.
Vincent inhaled and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her neck. "I love you, mommy," he whispered.
She inhaled too. "I love you too, Vincent . . . so, so much." He blinked and stiffened. As she bent over, wrapping her own arms around him as well, he felt her rigid breaths vibrating his whole body. His words were enough for her to come undone. She hid her face in the crook of his neck, bleeding out tears of agony that suffocated her to no end.
Her voice was shaky in his ear. "I promise everything will be okay from now on. . ."
"Okay. . . Good. That's a good thing," Vincent said.
"Let's hurry, mijo. Íngrid is waiting for us." Mariana sobered up and wiped the residue from her eyes. What was left of her tear stains, dried up on Vincent's worn-out dark blue t-shirt, and the bottom of her eyelashes.
Though his mother had promised everything would be okay from now on, things still weren't okay. Over time, things grew worse. Vincent may have been young. But he had eyes. He knew.
"There's more paperwork to take care of now."
"Okay, thank you, Íngrid. . . Just leave it on the desk, will you please?"
Vincent could hear the strain in his mother's voice from upstairs. She'd sent him downstairs to play with his toy cars, however, he'd been practicing breathing exercises instead. Deep breaths, eyes closed. That was what he taught himself to calm down, counting down in his head.
"Try not to leave it until the last minute again. Or better yet, let William handle it."
"William's already doing enough. This is my responsibility as Luna of this pack. I can't keep having him do what I'm supposed to do. This is my part in maintaining order." Mariana sighed.
"But he already told you he didn't mind carrying the extra work load. Please Mariana, let him take some of this off your shoulders!" Íngrid scoffed.
"¿Y entonces qué? Then, I am just proving to my pack that I am nothing but a useless burden Alonso has been keeping around, just because I'm his mate!" she snapped. Vincent's body jerked when he heard a loud thud.
It resembled the sound of his mother's fist striking the desk in her office. He could hear the loud growl that was glued to her words. He knew he shouldn't have been eavesdropping. But he couldn't help it. He sat at the bottom of the stairs, his toy cars forgotten on the floor, listening.
It wasn't so often that Íngrid and his mother argued. But that's all they'd been doing. It had now been two weeks since his father died. The pack was no longer in shambles, but things were definitely still scattered. Mostly his mother's brain and her emotions.
"Okay, I get that. . . I'm sorry. He can't take care of your responsibilities forever. You're right about that. I shouldn't have been so foolish as to suggest that. But just so you know, you don't have to prove anything to them. . ."
"Sé que sé. Solo por favor," Mariana lowered her voice, begging, "I don't want Vincent to hear any of this. Okay?"
Íngrid sighed. "Fine. I won't bring it up again. But you can talk to me, you know? I'm here."
"Gracias, Íngrid. I know." Vincent imagined a weak smile on his mother's face.
Íngrid continued, "I know I'm not Luna. I've never been mated. I don't know what it's like to have the pressure of hundreds of lives weighing me down. So, I'll never understand what you're going through. but I will always help you through my support. You're strong, Mariana."
"That's just the thing. . . I'm tired of being strong, Íngrid. I'm not as brave as you. I am fragile, and everything hurts. I want to be allowed to show that everything hurts."
"Oh, Mariana. . ." Íngrid sighed again.
There was a pause between them. For a second, Vincent thought it was over. He wanted it to be over. His mother's pain tore at his chest, and ripped him apart every chance it got. But he heard Íngrid's voice again.
"We still need to decide on a day to hold the crowning ceremony for William, so he can officially take the alpha's place. Valor's been without an alpha for far too long now."
"Entendido, entendido," Mariana said, quickly.
"You say that but you forget. We can't avoid it forever, Mariana! It needs to happen soon. No, it needs to happen now. Wait. . . You're taking those pills again? Please tell me you aren't."
"They help!" Mariana hissed.
Vincent knew exactly what pills Íngrid was talking about. They were small, blue-ish, green round pills. For anxiety and depression, according to the label, prescribed to his mother before she met his father, and found out they were mates.
He'd witnessed his mother popping two into her mouth the other day. He assumed that was when she started taking them again. Before then, his father had always been her happy place. He kept her grounded when Valor doubted her as Luna. She'd come from riches; a wealthy pack in the warm mountains of California.
However, her broken English was enough for most to doubt her. Even so, she still had privilege, and beauty, to accompany her family's wealth. But that instantly made her less than in the eyes of some wolves too. Because a spoiled, pretty face didn't make a good Luna.
And it was hard to avoid people who judged her for her family's background before they knew of what she was capable of, or what she could be capable of. Because there was more to the spoiled, pretty face, than what people gave her the chance to show.
"When did you start taking them again? How long? You were doing better without them!"
"Well, that was before Alonso! And he's not here anymore, is he? Please Íngrid. I just want to be alone for a while. That's all I'm asking. Just for right now. Please? I have a migraine."
Vincent squeezed his hands together, his eyes squeezing shut tighter. His heartbeat felt as shallow as his insides. His little body was so stressed with worry, he could vomit. But he didn't.
"Okay, Mariana. I give in. I will check on you later, though. I just want you to hear me out this once. . . Vincent. He needs you. You know he needs you. You can't take care of him in this condition"—Íngrid sucked in a deep breath, clearing her throat—"you and I both know that best. Please think of what's best for Vincent too. I care about you both. And I hate to see you go down this path again. Don't let Vincent suffer and drown in your misery too. He deserves better."
* * *
The night was filled with moonlight caving in through the window of Vincent's bedroom. It glowed over his face, similar to that of the idea of the moon goddess shining light on him, as if he were a descendant of angels.
Vincent could hear a voice in his ear, tempting him to wake up. "Vincent, ven aquí." But it was only when the voice spoke again, that he realized that was indeed the objective.
Vincent stirred in his bed, his eyes cracking open at the blurry figure in his face. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, looking around. He was in his room. But it was dark. Too dark. It was the middle of the night.
"Hurry up. We have to go," Mariana whispered to him.
"Huh? Mommy?" he asked, fully awake now.
"Sí, quiet baby, I'm here." She pressed a kiss to his forehead, and tugged at his hands.
"Where are we going?" Vincent frowned.
She didn't respond immediately. She pulled his blankets back off of him, completely yanking them off his bed. She then stuffed them into the large bag that he was just now realizing was beside her, and proceeded to do the same with the clothes from his closet.
"Come on. It won't take long. I promise." She shot him a smile. Again, he noticed how it didn't reach her ears. But Vincent trusted his mother. He trusted her more than he trusted Íngrid. With his whole heart. So, he followed.
When she was finished packing his belongings into the bags she carried along with her, he found himself stumbling behind her through dead roots, tall trees, and thick winds deep in the forest, miles away from their home. Why were they leaving Valor's pack grounds? Vincent didn't dare ask.
His mother was in a hurry and she was determined to get him as far away as possible. He was sure no one knew they'd left. She was being secretive about everything. Would Íngrid worry? She probably would. The thoughts in Vincent's head were moving several miles a minute. There were too many to think about the answers to just one.
"Vincent." Mariana stopped suddenly.
They stood in front of a large, narrow entrance to a small town, it looked. Vincent took that as his chance to study the area. It was a place Vincent wasn't familiar with. There were less trees here, more dirt. Something about this place was similar to Valor. He couldn't quite put his finger on it though.
Vincent's eyebrows furrowed, his teeth gnawing at his dry lips. "What are we doing here?"
"Do you know what this place is, mijo?" She glanced down at him.
"No. . ." Vincent shook his head.
"It's called Calamitous. Do you think you can pronounce that name? Try saying it with me."
"Cuh-lamb. . . Cuh-lamb-mi. . . tis?" His nose scrunched as he finished the word.
Mariana chuckled under her breath and patted the top of his head, running her hands through his curls. They were the same color as her hair. Most of Vincent's features came from her genes. The rest were his father's.
She sighed. "Close enough, mi amor. Your father and I. Good friends of ours live here. They're in charge of this place."
"Oh," he mumbled.
"Yeah." She bit her lip and looked around, as if she was seeking someone out.
"What's wrong? Are you going somewhere?" He tried to lift himself on his tip-toes to look behind her but that didn't work. So, he peeked around her legs. There was nothing but wind brisking through the woods.
"I-I. . ." Mariana hesitated, reaching out for Vincent's hands. "I am."
"Oh, okay. Wait. Are you leaving me right here all alone? By myself? It's dark and scary out here! What time is it?" His eyes widened, his little voice raising with panic.
She removed her hands from his, and placed the bags she packed for him down onto the ground. Then, she grabbed his hands again, squeezing tightly. It was almost five in the morning, but he didn't need to know that.
She'd made up her mind already when she saw him watching her every move yesterday evening. She knew he was worried about her. She didn't want him to worry anymore. Mariana could have taken him to her birth pack.
But there was no way they'd want any parts of the child she and Alonso created. Not after she cut ties with them, for trying to sabotage her and Alonso's mating bond when she didn't reject him. They had always disapproved of him as her mate, due to their own biases.
She inhaled a deep breath, so as to not croak. He didn't notice. "Just for a little while. . ."
"Okay. . . Will you promise to be back for me then?" he persisted.
She didn't answer, though ignoring the pleas in his voice pained her.
Mariana sucked in another breath, cleared her throat, and blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. Something was off. Vincent knew it. He couldn't comprehend what though. But his mother wasn't acting normal.
"Mommy?" he asked again, frowning. "You didn't answer me."
"I love you, Vincent. So much. More than you'll ever know. You know that right, mijo?"
"Mommy, why are you crying?" Vincent's frown deepened.
"I promised you everything would be okay from now on, didn't I? I intend to keep that promise to you. . . Forgive me, Vincent." She choked back a sob and covered her mouth.
Something stirred within his gut. Her tone, her tears, her pleas. He hated all of it. He wanted to express how much he hated all of it, but he continued to scrunch his face, frown, and watch her actions closely. Mariana rested her forehead against Vincent's shoulder.
Her whole body shook with dry sobbing heaves that tightened Vincent's core. Torn and confused, he acknowledged her cries, but didn't move. Instead, he allowed her to hold him in her arms as she did, hugging him with as much strength as she could.
So much strength, she hoped he could feel her love spoiling him rotten. But there was only so much love that'd last until he'd figure out what was really going on. He may not have been old enough to understand it at this moment, but he'd understand eventually.
And when he would, she knew he'd come to his own terms about her decision. Possibly hating her for it. Deep in her heart, she knew Íngrid was right. Íngrid's words had been eating at her system for the last three days, beating the truth she didn't want to face into her head.
Should she have tried bettering herself, and risked causing Vincent more pain he didn't deserve? But Mariana knew best; old habits didn't die easily. She wasn't okay. She couldn't pretend to be okay either. Was she being selfish or selfless? She couldn't tell. Maybe both.
But either way, Mariana was prepared to take what she thought was the best course of action. Sometimes to provide, sacrifices were required. At least, that's what she'd been taught. Ultimately, she had decided, forgiveness and understanding were all she could ask him for.
Even if that meant, she wouldn't tell him she promised, and give him false hope.
"It's okay, mommy. It's okay. . ." Vincent brushed his hands over his mother's hair, the same way she did his when he wanted assurance.
"Mi amor, Vincent. Look at me"—Mariana lifted her head and looked into Vincent's eyes—"don't ever break your promises. And don't ever make promises you can't keep."
"Okay."
"Hablo en serio," Mariana hissed.
"O-okay." Vincent tensed with fright at her seriousness; his own eyes welled with tears now.
She let out a trembling sigh, her fingers shaking at her sides. "Good, mijo." Once again, she pressed another kiss to his forehead, and sent him a weak smile. It was a smile that was imprinted into his brain. A smile he'd grown to hate in his early teenage years.
Something he didn't know whether he should have despised the memory of, or treasured as his last. Because the last thing Vincent saw of his mother was her wolf, leaving him stranded in an unknown place with no guidance, or her warmth to assure he'd be safe.
Just a place full of rotten wolves that reminded him he didn't belong.
And she never promised him she would come back. But worst of all, she never did come back. He'd realized that was her indirect promise to him. And surely enough, she kept it.