Clyde's jaw clenched so hard it hurt, tension radiating through his rigid frame.
He knew if he stayed, nothing good would come of it—only more bitterness, more poison.
Clyde had barely pushed himself off the bed, his boots brushing the floor, when Mervyn's broken voice cut the air like glass.
"Is this all we are to you? Nothing—even when your son needs you most?" he choked out, each word a ragged sob.
Clyde paused, his broad back stiffening but not turning.
Mervyn's tears streamed freely now as he hugged Morgan's limp body tighter.
His bloodshot eyes lowered, taking in Morgan's pale face as his voice dropped into a raw, aching whisper that twisted like a knife.
"Do we even mean anything to you at all...?"
The Alpha would be lying if he claimed those words hadn't pierced straight through his chest.
Guilt coiled in his gut, but he only clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened, forcing himself to keep walking.
