Their attention was fixed on Selene, the adopted she-wolf, who held her hand as if it had been torn apart instead of lightly cut. Her act was perfect, wide watery eyes, shaking lips, hunched shoulders. Every movement was shaped to gain pity from the Alpha and the Beta.
“You should have stopped her!” Alden shouted at me. “She is still weak from healing! Why did you allow her near the hearth room?”
“I told her no,” I said quietly. “She ignored me. Why am I the one blamed?”
Draven’s stare was cold, filled with anger. “You should have forced the issue. You know she is unwell. You are supposed to be the sensible one, Liora!”
“And what about me?” I whispered under my breath. “I am not healed either.”
Once again, my words vanished into nothing. Or perhaps they heard them and chose to ignore them.
“Next time, Liora, you will prepare all the meals yourself,” Alden ordered. “Selene should not lift a finger in her condition. Show some care for her. You are pack sisters and we are one pack.”
Pack? The word turned my stomach.
I tried to speak again, but the words died before they reached my lips. What use was explaining when my Alpha and Beta never listened?
“She should not need to ask for anything,” Draven added sharply. “Just handle it. You are fine now, are you not? Act like it. Prepare food for us. We want something proper to eat.”
They guided Selene, still sobbing, toward her chamber. Alden held her close, as if she were made of fragile glass. Draven followed, saying he would bring her ice herbs.
And once again, they left their Luna behind.
Alone.
I stood before the hearth, the soup long since cooled. Without thought, I warmed it again, added salt and cracked an egg into the pot. My body moved on its own, stirring, pouring, working as I had done countless times for the pack.
But this time… I did not cook for everyone.
Why should I? They had already planned to travel to Bloodmoon Territory without me. I was not wanted. They did not deserve my care, not even once.
So this meal was for me. Only for me.
I sat at the table and began to eat.
The broth was warm, gentle on my tongue. It did not heal my heart, but it belonged to me.
Halfway through the bowl, heavy footsteps entered the hearth room.
Alden. Draven.
“There you are,” Alden said, scanning the table. “Where is our food, Liora?”
Draven frowned. “Is it not finished yet? What did you prepare?”