Alpha Thorne’s hand rested possessively at her waist. My son and his family circled her like satellites around a brighter star.
I was nowhere in the image.
“Nice, right, Grandma?” Nolan said with a crooked grin. “Looks like a proper family.”
“Too bad you weren’t invited,” Ken added, teeth flashing. “Oh—wait. Guess you looked too much like staff.”
The room erupted with laughter. Thorne laughed. Julian laughed. Corinne wiped her eyes. Camille sipped her coffee calmly and said, “Don’t worry, Nyx. I’ll leave a few of my old dresses for you. Some perfume too. They’re a little tight on me now, but maybe you can manage.”
Thorne snorted. “You can dress a corpse in silk—it’s still dead. And she smells like failure.”
I said nothing. I cleared plates, washed them slowly, and stared out the window at the lemon tree blooming next door. They believed this was my ending. They believed I had nothing left.
They had never seen me stop asking to belong.
---
That night, when the wine bottles were empty and the house finally slept, I stood alone beneath the portrait. Hung high like something sacred, it glared down at me—Camille radiant in my place, Thorne gazing at her as though she were his salvation.
I didn’t hear him until his voice cut through the dark.
“Still jealous?” he scoffed. “You look at that picture like it’s supposed to feel sorry for you.”
I stayed silent.
He laughed bitterly. “If I could redo my life, I’d have left you rotting wherever I found you. I should’ve chosen Camille. She knows how to stand beside an Alpha. She knows when to stay quiet.”
Still, I said nothing. Silence sharpens patience. Silence hunts.
Anger flared at my stillness. He kicked my knee hard, pain bursting through me—but instead of collapsing, something inside me loosened. Uncoiled. He turned away, disgusted. “You’re too old for drama.”
His phone rang. His voice softened instantly. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, young again. “Yeah, I’m packing. Just you and me. Open water.”
I stayed where I was—not because I was weak, but because what shook through me wasn’t pain.
It was awakening.
Power surged beneath my skin, ancient and feral, pressing against years of restraint. My breath tore from my chest, my nails cut into my palms, my teeth ached with a need that wasn’t human.
They thought they had erased me.
But the moon was rising.
And the wolf in my blood had never forgotten who she was.
They were wrong.