He probably doesn’t use this number anymore, I thought. It’s been so long.
Yet I dialed, my heart pounding as I waited, almost praying he wouldn’t pick up. But on the fourth ring, he answered.
“K-Kierra? Is this really you?” His voice was deep, a bit raspy, as if he hadn’t expected to hear from me again.
I took a breath, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I’m not calling for myself,” I said, each word like a piece of broken glass. “I’m calling because our son needs you.”
There was a long pause. I could almost hear him processing the words, the years that had passed between us thick in the silence. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “Our son?”
My chest tightened. “Yes, Alpha Damon. Our son. He… he needs to know you’re alive.”
Another pause, then the line went silent as he hung up. I felt a bitter sting, my hand clenched around the phone. I should have expected as much. He was probably too far gone, too changed from the man I’d once known to come back for us.
But the next morning, as I was putting breakfast on the table, there was a knock at the door. My heart skipped a beat. I brushed my hair back, quickly tidying myself before opening the door.