🦋ALTHEA
"I didn't mean 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 me, 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 me."
"I am just worried about us, the pack. The Hellhound and Silvermoth keep stirring trouble," I lied. The demons tormenting me were not in our pack borders. They were right in the place that I call home.
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 mean 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 me."
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 me time 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 beamed, 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 meant.
No idea she was a hostage.
I forced a smile and opened my arms. "Come here, little bird."
She launched herself at me, nearly knocking me 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 somehow 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. Some old, silvered with time. Others newer, still pink and raised.
My stomach turned.
Mother's work.
Every time Wren wandered from her room—every time 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 me. "Wren, listen to me."
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 me. Do you understand?"
But she wouldn't be able to find me.
And she wouldn't know if something 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 time. "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 time."
"Okay!" She bounced toward him, then stopped, spinning back to wave at me. "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 me.
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 me into something 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 me that would be born into this nightmare and felt the tears finally come.
A drop into the ocean of tears was still yet to shed.
---
Nighttime.
I sat by the window, staring up at the moon.
Full and bright, it cast silver light across the grounds, turning shadows into something alive. Beautiful and cold and indifferent.
The Goddess's eye.
Watching but never intervening.
I wondered if she saw me. 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 time.
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 me in the shadows.