Once, on a night drenched in silver moonlight, I begged Alpha Alaric not to push himself so hard to learn my language.
The desk lamp threw a warm pool of light, sharp angles cutting across his jaw as he signed, brows drawn tight with focus. Beneath his skin, his wolf shifted, restless and alert, its pulse brushing against mine, yet man and beast held just enough control to trace the careful, hesitant movements of his hands.
“You don’t need to do this,” I had whispered, placing my hand over his. “I can adjust. I’m used to it, the silence and all.”
But he had only smiled, that gentle curve softening the fierceness that usually clung to him as Alpha. “All these years, you lived in silence. You suffered the pain of being cut off, of being less in the eyes of the pack, of standing apart even from your own family. You endured it alone, with no wolf to confide in, no mate to lean on. I don’t want you to carry that burden anymore. It hurts me. I want to be the one who truly understands you.”
Those words had broken something inside me. The dam of grief, of loneliness, had shattered, and I had cried openly for the first time in years. He had been the first person to make me believe I wasn’t cursed, the first who seemed willing to meet me in my silence. Not even Ronan Stormclaw, whose life I had once risked saving, had bothered to learn my language. My parents never considered it either, because I was nothing more than a shadow of Nyra, a pale reflection of their favored daughter.
But now, standing in the present, watching Alpha Alaric’s fingers move with effortless grace, there was no warmth left in me. Only a cold, merciless irony. His hands, which once felt like a lifeline, now mocked me with every fluid gesture. He had taken the gift of my silence, twisted it into a mask behind which he bared his soul, not to me, his Luna, but to another woman. He had used my deafness as a shield for his betrayal.
His signs were calm, attentive, masked with the tenderness that used to make me ache with love.
“Kaia, Nyra, your sister’s birthday banquet is about to begin. We should leave now. If we’re late, the pack will gossip.”
But the spark in his eyes wasn’t for me. His wolf thrummed beneath his skin, restless and eager, as if the thought of seeing her filled him with vitality I had never given him.
A dull ache bloomed in my chest, coiling tighter with every beat of my heart. I forced a smile, the curve of my lips trembling, and gently pulled my hand away.
“Then wait for me a moment. I’ll go change my clothes,”
I said, my voice steady though my throat burned with the weight of unshed tears.
I turned before the mask could slip, retreating up the staircase with steps that grew heavier, leaden with every heartbeat. The instant the bedroom door closed behind me, the fragile composure I had clung to disintegrate. My shoulders shook, my hands pressed over my mouth as tears streamed freely, silent yet unrelenting, like rivers dammed too long. My wolf whimpered deep within, curling into herself, powerless to shield us both from the shattering truth.
When the storm inside me finally ebbed, I wiped my face, forcing the swelling in my eyes to fade. I dressed in a modest but elegant gown, smoothing my hair until not a strand was out of place. I would not give Nyra, or anyone else, another weapon to cut me down with.
On my way downstairs, a sliver of light caught my eye. The door to Alpha Alaric’s study stood slightly open. For five years, I had never stepped into that room, respecting the boundary he had drawn with such quiet finality. I had thought it was where he worked tirelessly to protect his company and the pack’s interests.
But tonight, something stronger than reason guided my hand. I pushed the door open, and the breath was torn from my chest.
The walls were covered in photographs. Dozens upon dozens of images, spanning years, Nyra smiling, Nyra crying, Nyra laughing, Nyra standing proud under the moon’s glow. From her childhood innocence to her poised womanhood, her entire life was laid out with obsessive reverence. The air of a study was gone; in its place stood a shrine.
Not one picture of me adorned those walls.
My legs trembled as I stumbled toward the desk. There, arranged in neat stacks, were countless letters. My fingers shook as I lifted the first one.
To Nyra, my 99th love letter.
Each word bled with devotion, a kind of passion that scorched every line. They weren’t merely notes, they were offerings, desperate prayers written to a woman who wasn’t his mate. My stomach twisted as my eyes fell upon the document beside them, a transfer contract for Silverfang Holdings.
Silverfang Holdings is the crown jewel of the Silverfang line and the pack’s empire. The company Alpha Alaric had poured its blood into protecting the legacy generations of Alphas that it had safeguarded. And yet he was ready to hand it over, to offer it as tribute at Nyra’s feet.
It became clear then. All those nights he had spent in this study, all those hours he had claimed were for the sake of the pack, none of it had been about us. None of it had been about me. It was always her. Always Nyra.
The realization hollowed me out, as though my very soul had been scooped clean. My wolf recoiled, pressing claws into the walls of my chest, her anguish blending with mine until I could scarcely breathe.
By the time we arrived at my parents’ home, the Blackthorn Pack House, I felt like little more than a ghost wearing a Luna’s gown. The estate glowed beneath chandeliers, music weaving with the murmurs of the gathered wolves. The air was rich with the mingled scents of pack and kin, but none of it warmed me.
At the center stood Nyra, radiant as though the Moon Goddess herself had chosen her for the spotlight. Her gown shimmered, her beauty sharpened by perfection, every detail calculated to draw every gaze. My parents hovered near, their faces alight with pride, hands brushing against hers as though terrified to lose her again.
They had once touched me that way, held me as though I was precious. But that was before. Before Nyra had returned.
Ten years ago, when she was found after her long disappearance, I thought it was the beginning of healing. I had dreamed we would rebuild, that blood would outweigh distance, that I would finally have a sister again.
But her first words to me had carved open a wound that never closed.
“Sis K-Kaia, what did I do wrong? Wh-why did you let them kidnap me?”
