I find my Alpha in his home office the next morning, already buried in pack business despite the early hour. The mate bond pulses between us as I enter, that constant awareness of each other that usually brings comfort. Today it feels like pressure building before a storm.
"We need to talk about the children."
He looks up from his laptop, reads something in my expression that makes him close it immediately. "What happened?"
I sink into the chair across from his desk and lay it out. Every report, every word, every tear Luna cried in her closet. Phoenix is called disruptive. Orion labeled aggressive. The clinical language that disguises cruelty as concern.
Kieran's jaw tightens with each detail. By the time I finish, his hands have curled into fists on the desk surface.
"I'll handle this," he says, voice dropping to that dangerous register I've heard him use in pack council. "Draft warning letters to each teacher involved. If the behavior continues, we'll pursue formal complaints through the supernatural education board. The school needs to understand who they're dealing with."
"That's not—"
"Morrison especially." He's already reaching for his phone. "She'll receive a personal visit from pack legal counsel. Alpha heirs don't get treated like problem children."
"Kieran, stop."
He pauses, confusion flickering across his face. "What?"
"That's not how I want to handle this."
"Then how?" He sets the phone down but his posture remains rigid, ready for battle. "These people are targeting our children, and I’ll make them understand the consequences of that choice."
"They need to understand our children," I counter. "Threatening them into compliance doesn't change how they see Phoenix or Orion or Luna. It just makes them afraid to say it out loud."
"Fear works."
"It creates resentment! Fear makes them wait until we're not watching to take it out on our kids in subtler ways." I lean forward, trying to make him see. "I want to meet with the teachers individually. Build relationships and help them understand what it means to have students with supernatural abilities in their classrooms."
"That's too soft."
The dismissal lands harder than he probably intends. "Soft?"
"Diplomatic, then." He waves a hand. "But these aren't diplomatic people, Thalia. They've already shown who they are. You don't negotiate with prejudice—you crush it."
"Like you did with me?"
The words escape before I can stop them. They hang in the air between us, heavy and jagged.
Kieran goes completely still. "What?"
"In high school." My voice shakes but I force myself to continue. "When Lia told you I was pathetic, that my feelings for you were disgusting. You didn't negotiate or try to understand. You just... crushed."
His face drains of color. "That's not—"
"The lockers." The memories surge, demanding to be spoken after years of silence. "You and your friends, slamming them every time I walked past. Making me flinch. Making everyone laugh at the wolfless girl who couldn't even handle loud noises."
"Thalia..."
"The cafeteria. Knocking my tray out of my hands three times in one week until I started eating in the bathroom just to avoid you." My throat burns but I can't stop. "The hallway where you cornered me after Lia read my journal, told me I was delusional for thinking anyone could ever want someone as broken as me."
Kieran's hands are trembling now. I can feel his anguish and guilt, but I'm too deep in the memories to let it soften me.
"You watched me be torn apart for years." My voice cracks. "Every day, piece by piece, until I believed everything they said about me. And you didn't just do nothing—you participated. You were the Alpha heir everyone admired, and you used that power to destroy me."
"I know what I did," the words come out strangled. "I've spent years trying to make up for it, trying to be better—"
"This isn't about making up for it." I stand, unable to sit still with this much pain churning through me. "You want to handle the school the same way! Threats, dominance… And crushing anyone who doesn't fall in line."
"That's different."
"How?"
"I'm protecting my children!" His voice rises. "I'm protecting you! That's what an Alpha does."
"An Alpha who protects by inspiring fear creates subjects, not pack." I meet his eyes. "I don't want our children's teachers to be afraid of us. I want them to see Phoenix's strength as remarkable instead of dangerous, and appreciate Orion's brilliance instead of feeling threatened by it. I want them to understand that Luna's empathy is a gift that deserves nurturing."
Kieran runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "Your approach takes too long. The damage happens while we're building relationships and having polite conversations."
"Yours does immediate damage of a different kind."
"I'm sorry for what I did in high school," he moves around the desk, reaches for me. "For every moment of pain I caused. I will spend the rest of my life being sorry for that."
The apology is sincere. I feel the genuine remorse that's haunted him since he understood what we were to each other. But sincerity doesn't change what I need right now.
"Then trust my judgment on this."
He hesitates. That hesitation tells me everything.
"Marcus warned me this morning," he says quietly. "The pack elders are watching how we handle supernatural-human relations. Any scandal involving the Alpha heirs could undermine our political position. We need to project strength, not..."
"What? Reasonableness? Compassion?"
"Not weakness."
The word hits like a physical blow. "Trying to create understanding instead of fear is weakness?"
"In their eyes, yes." He reaches for my hand but I pull away. "I'm not saying I agree with them. We just have to consider the political implications—"
"Our children are crying themselves to sleep and you're worried about politics?"
"About everything!" His composure finally cracks, raw emotion bleeding through. "Them, you, holding this pack together while enemies watch for any sign of vulnerability. You think I don't want to burn that school to the ground? I do, but I also have to think about what comes after."
"And I think about what my children learn from how we respond." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the morning sun streaming through windows. "If we teach them that power means threatening everyone who challenges you, we teach them to become exactly what those teachers fear."
Kieran's silent for a long moment. The mate bond churns between us—his frustration, my hurt, our love tangled up in disagreement neither of us knows how to resolve.
"I can't do it your way," he finally says. "Not entirely. The risks are too high."
"And I can't do it yours."
We stare at each other across the distance of his office, mates who suddenly feel like strangers.
"I should go." I move toward the door, needing space, needing air, needing to think without his certainty pressing against me. "The kids will be up soon."
"Thalia, wait—"
I pause with my hand on the doorframe but don't turn around.
"I love you. Everything I do is to protect this family."
"I know." My voice comes out hollow. "But I don't need a mate who protects me, Kieran. I need one who stands with me."
I walk out before he can respond, before the mate bond can pull me back into his orbit and smooth over the cracks that just split wide open between us.
The hallway stretches ahead, empty and quiet. Somewhere in this house, my children sleep, unaware that their parents just drew battle lines over how to save them.
I chose Kieran. But right now, standing alone with his certainty still ringing in my ears, I wonder if choosing the same person means choosing the same path.
It doesn't. And I'm not sure how we find our way back to each other when we can't agree on which direction to walk.