Chapter 11
Matthew
It was two weeks until Christmas, and the weather was unusually warm—so warm that Matthew had opted to walk Barney all the way to Toby’s elementary school.
For now, he and Daniel were taking things slow. Not because they wanted to, but because Claudia kept throwing words around, and Daniel didn’t want to give her any more ammunition.
Matthew had tried to reason with him—that it would make next to no difference. If Claudia was hell-bent on dragging their names through the mud, then it didn’t matter where they lived, or whether that was together or apart.
That morning, crisp air snaked through the crack in the curtains, rousing Matthew from a fitful sleep. He’d woken early, rolled out of bed, and stepped on one of Barney’s squeaky toys. The sudden pressure triggered a series of high-pitched squeaks.
The bouncing bundle of energy woofed and jumped about excitedly, a doggy smile stretched across his furry face.
Reaching down, Matthew scratched the good-natured pooch behind the ear, feeling the familiar comfort of Barney’s soft fur.
“Nothing much gets you down, does it, my friend?” he murmured, a wry smile playing on his lips. “How about we go for a nice long walk after we drop Toby at school?”
Barney’s joyful woof—a clear affirmative—echoed his own eagerness to be up and outside.
A stark contrast to Toby’s usual morning routine.
Toby remained a stubborn lump of resistance under his duvet. He burrowed deeper, his small form shrinking into the mattress like he planned to hibernate for the rest of the winter.
Matthew sighed, weariness settling over him.
Huh. Bears. Like father, like son.
Getting Toby dressed and out the door was a battle every morning—a relentless test of wills.
Matthew understood his son’s reluctance.
Ever since the court case, people had been acting weird toward them.
The whispers that followed them down the street, in the grocery store, even in the schoolyard—they were getting to him.
As were the judgmental looks. The veiled hostility that seemed to permeate every interaction.
He got it. He really did.
Even though the Elder Council had ruled in their favor, the court of popular opinion had not.
That was solely because of Claudia—and her efforts to sour everyone against them.
Not that her spiteful antics surprised him. His ex-wife was petty at the best of times. Now she was out to prove a point. Like she was some noble crusader out to expose corruption.
And she should know—seeing as she was party to most of it.
He didn’t know which was worse: her suggestion that Daniel used alpha dominance to emotionally coerce him, or the implication that he was some kind of simple omega.
Both were insulting. Both reduced him to a stereotype—a pawn in her game.
After a difficult goodbye at the school gates, where the other children seemed to shy away from Toby like he had some sort of disease, Matthew turned toward the coffee shop—a beacon of caffeine-fueled hope in the bleak morning.
By the time he and Barney made it there, his need for a pick-me-up was bordering on desperate.
Prickles of awareness needled him as he gave his order and found a table out of the way, hoping for some semblance of peace.
It didn’t matter where he sat. He could still hear the hushed conversations, see the averted glances, the subtle shifts in body language that spoke volumes.
Two omegas at the next table kept looking over at him, their eyes narrowed.
One gave him pitying looks, lips pursed in a disapproving line.
The other kept pointing to a flyer plastered on the wall—a brightly colored advertisement for a local business—and muttering something about a boycott, her voice just loud enough for him to catch the underlying animosity.
Dropping his gaze to the tabletop, Matthew tried to quell the churning in his belly—the familiar tide of anxiety threatening to overwhelm him.
Barney, sensing his master’s distress, bumped his head against Matthew’s leg, offering silent comfort.
He was so focused on ignoring the other customers, on trying to maintain composure, that he didn’t register Tom—the café owner, a burly alpha with a kind heart—had delivered his order.
“Don’t let them get to you,” Tom said, his gruff voice laced with genuine concern. “They’re just bored house omegas with little to do but talk shit about good people.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“Just calling it how I see it. Some people are far too quick to believe the worst without questioning the other party’s motives. Me? I prefer to judge for myself. I don’t believe the crap they’re spreading, and I won’t be signing their petition, that’s for darn sure.”
“Eh… what petition?”
Tom pulled his phone from his apron pocket, tapped the screen, then turned it toward Matthew.
The petition list on the Shifter Council website had the usual topics—calls for new Elder elections, tightening human immigration, lowering taxes—and right at the bottom was a new listing:
Ban obsolete rites.
Targeting the Hollow Moon Ritual by name.
“Fuuuuudge…”
“Oh yeah. And that’s not the worst of it.
I’ve been seeing all kinds of crap posted on ROAR.
Your ex has been dropping lines all day—saying legal loopholes should be abolished, and that bears make bad, emotionally abusive mates.
It’s got the online community buzzing. Bears around the country have been posting their support—see here. #BondTruths is trending right now.”
The shifter world’s social media site had been running for a few years. Matthew had an account, but rarely used it.
With shaking hands, he fished his phone from his pocket and brought up the app.
There, right at the top, was the hot topic:
Claudia’s “The Omega That Was Wronged,” over a thousand likes.
But fast catching up were the posts discrediting her comments as outmoded, anti-bear slurs.
Matthew tried for a smile, but his trembling lips gave away just how much it was affecting him.
Trailing his finger down the screen, he stopped at a post from Claudia claiming that bears were “incapable of emotional subtlety” and alphas “use mating as control.”
But it was her words accusing Daniel’s pack of being a “relic of territorial bullying” that hit hardest.
What did she think she’d achieve by attacking the North Star Pack’s honor and legacy?
Then there was the call for the immediate arrest of Keiran Holt—for spreading seditious propaganda.
He didn’t want to make a scene. Not here. Not with so many eyes watching his reaction.
But he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back his tears.