🦋ALTHEA
"I didn’t an anything I said at that dinner." He pressed a kiss to my lips. I stifled the damning urge to run.
Running from his affection was disobedience.
I nodded, my lips quivering in a smile I hoped did not look like a grimace.
His eyes narrowed on , jaw clenching. I held my breath. "You feel unreachable these days, Althy." He cradled my face in his warm palms. It felt like a furnace. "I miss how carefree you used to be with ."
"I am just worried about us, the pack. The Hellhound and Silvermoth keep stirring trouble," I lied. The demons tornting were not in our pack borders. They were right in the place that I call ho.
His eyes remained assessing, peeling back my words to find what he sought. "So you believe that as Alpha I cannot vanquish the forces against our pack? Because your blood could cure the fever, I can’t save us?" His hands around my face began to tighten, pressing and hurting.
I shook my head, bringing my hand up to touch his face, my hand shaking. "The man I love is more than capable." I couldn’t even hide the tremor from my words. I smiled, too wide for it to be genuine, but I prayed he lacked enough emotional intelligence to notice.
I let out a breath as his expression lightened. "I am glad you know." He smiled, feathering a lingering kiss on my forehead.
He pulled away, tilting my head back so I had no choice but to look at only him. "I will be gone for a while, but do not mistake my absence as a chance to misbehave."
I was well aware of what he was referring to. His paranoia at the possibility that I would reveal the truth had grown. But he need not worry—because as long as my mother was high gamma, revealing that it was not a bunch of herbs that saved the pack but my blood was the easiest way to a beheading. Knowing my mother, she would not hesitate.
But it would still an he would lose his rank for deception. No one else would be happier than Elias if that happened. As Draven’s older brother, he was supposed to be Alpha until I happened.
I nodded.
"But just to make sure you know that you have no choice—" A dark flicker entered his gaze. "I will be taking Wren with ."
My stomach dropped, ice filling my veins.
And all I could do was stare up at him as a smile spread across his face. "Just to be sure you will continue to toe the line without stirring up trouble." He stepped out, giving ti to breathe.
The door burst open.
"Althy!"
Wren spun into the room like a breeze given form, her pale blue dress flaring around her ankles. She twirled once, twice, laughing, a sound so pure it didn’t belong in this house.
"Look! Look at my dress!" She bead, holding the fabric out like wings. "Draven said I get to go on a journey. A real journey! Have you ever been on a journey, Althy?"
My throat closed.
She was twenty years old. But her brown eyes were bright, trusting, innocent, like it belonged to a child of seven.
The accident during the yearly pack hunt had stolen so much from her. Her wolf. Her awareness. Her ability to sense danger. She had no idea what Draven taking her ant.
No idea she was a hostage.
I forced a smile and opened my arms. "Co here, little bird."
She launched herself at , nearly knocking over with the force of her embrace. I held her tight—tighter than I should have—breathing in the scent of lavender soap and sunshine that sohow clung to her despite everything.
"You look beautiful," I whispered, pulling back to smooth her honey-blonde hair. My fingers caught on a tangle and she winced.
"Ow."
"Sorry, sorry." I gentled my touch, working through the knot carefully.
That’s when I saw them.
The scars.
Welts crisscrossing her forearms like a roadmap of pain. So old, silvered with ti. Others newer, still pink and raised.
My stomach turned.
Mother’s work.
Every ti Wren wandered from her room—every ti she laughed too loud or asked the wrong question or simply existed in a way that reminded Mother she’d failed to produce a perfect daughter—she paid for it.
And Wren never understood why.
She’d cry afterward, confused, asking what she’d done wrong.
Then she’d forget.
She always forgot.
I traced one of the scars with my thumb, swallowing the rage that threatened to choke . "Wren, listen to ."
She tilted her head, eyes wide and attentive.
"You’re going on a trip with Draven. You need to behave. Do everything he says. Don’t wander off. Don’t talk to strangers. And if—" My voice cracked. "If anything feels wrong, you find . Do you understand?"
But she wouldn’t be able to find .
And she wouldn’t know if sothing felt wrong.
She nodded enthusiastically anyway. "I’ll be good! I promise, Althy. I’ll be so good."
"I know you will." I kissed her forehead, holding her close one more ti. "I know you will, little bird."
She pulled back, grinning. "Will you be here when I get back?"
The question hit like a blade between my ribs.
"Of course,"
Draven appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Wren. It’s ti."
"Okay!" She bounced toward him, then stopped, spinning back to wave at . "Bye, Althy! I love you!"
"I love you too."
She skipped out of the room, Draven’s hand settling possessively on her shoulder as he steered her into the hall.
He looked back at .
Smiled.
Then they were gone. I stood there long after their footsteps faded.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the house settled into silence.
And as the weight of my helplessness crushed into sothing small and broken.
I couldn’t protect her.
I couldn’t even protect myself.
I pressed a hand to my stomach and to the life growing inside that would be born into this nightmare and felt the tears finally co.
A drop into the ocean of tears was still yet to shed.
---
Nightti.
I sat by the window, staring up at the moon.
Full and bright, it cast silver light across the grounds, turning shadows into sothing alive. Beautiful and cold and indifferent.
The Goddess’s eye.
Watching but never intervening.
I wondered if she saw . If she cared. If she knew what I was about to do and if she cared.
The pack house had gone silent an hour ago. Every light was extinguished. Every breath had gone slow and steady with sleep.
It was ti.
I rose, pulling my cloak from the back of the chair and fastening it around my shoulders. The fabric was dark—black as the space between stars—and would hide in the shadows.
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