Silence

Five days.

Five days since Alpha Valen Nightclaw rejected me. Five days since my world shifted from under my feet. It doesn’t feel real. It still feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from. I’ve barely slept. My wolf has been howling inside me, restless, refusing to talk to me. Every attempt to reach her is met with silence and a cold wall of blame and anger has built between us.

She doesn’t understand, or maybe she does, and that’s why she’s furious. I let him go. I didn’t fight.

I run my fingers through my tangled hair as I glance at myself in the mirror. Dark circles hang beneath my eyes, my skin pale and drawn. My cheekbones look sharper than usual, the hollow look of someone who hasn’t eaten much in days.

My lips were once full and rosy, are chapped from the dry air and constant gnawing. The spark in my eyes, that vibrant glow of life, has dulled into something hollow. Empty.

I look like a ghost. Maybe I am.

A knock on the door startles me, snapping me back to reality. My hand trembles as I open the door to find my little sister, Lily, standing there, wide-eyed and clutching the hem of her dress like a lifeline. She’s eighteen, a fragile thing with big brown eyes and soft brown curls that remind me of our mother, though she’s long gone. Lily doesn’t say much, but when she does, it’s always something that cuts to the heart of the matter.

“Papa says dinner’s ready,” she whispers, her voice a gentle reminder of the world still moving outside my bedroom.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. My throat feels thick like I’ve swallowed stones. The weight of everything presses down on me, but I force myself to follow her down the narrow hallway that leads to the dining room.

The house smells of roasted vegetables and bread, but the scent doesn’t stir my appetite. It’s been like that for days—nothing tastes right, nothing feels right. Everything feels wrong. My wolf paces within me, her anger simmering beneath the surface, but she remains silent, a heavy presence that I can’t shake.

The dining room is small, cand ramped with an old wooden table that barely fits the four of us. Father sits at the head of the table, his stern face set in a permanent frown. Beta Marcus Moon Rest is a ruthless man when it comes to his family and duty towards the Alpha.

And seeing him during dinners is a rare sight. Even I’m surprised how he made it back home today when he had been spending his nights in the forest to protect this pack.

He’s always been strict, a man of few words but heavy expectations. He’s never been one for comfort or understanding. If you weren’t strong enough to stand, you didn’t deserve to stay on your feet—that was his way.

"You're late," he says, his voice cold as his eyes sweep over me. The disappointment in his gaze is unmistakable. He doesn’t say it, but I can feel the judgment rolling off him in waves. You look weak, his eyes say. You should be stronger than this.

I lower my gaze, feeling small, like the child I used to be under his relentless watch. My hands tremble as I pull out the chair and sit down. The tension in the room is thick, and even Lily stays quiet, staring at her plate as if afraid to draw attention.

For a few minutes, we eat in silence, the clinking of forks against plates the only sound. The food tastes like ash in my mouth, but I force it down. I can’t afford to appear weak—not in front of him. Not now.

Father clears his throat, his sharp blue eyes cutting across the table. “There’s a dinner invitation from Alpha Reylan,” he says, his voice low but commanding. “We’ll be attending. All of us.”

I freeze. The Alpha of our pack. Reylan is a powerful Alpha, not as feared as Valen, but his strength is known throughout the region. I haven’t told anyone about my encounter with Valen—what would I say? That I was rejected? That I’m worthless now? The shame burns hot in my chest, and I fight to keep my expression neutral, though my stomach churns with dread.

“Yes, Papa,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Straighten up,” he snaps, his eyes narrowing at me. “If you can’t hold yourself with pride, don’t bother coming. You’re going to be next Beta after me, a weakling like you isn’t accepted in this pack.”

I flinch, his words hitting me harder than they should. My fingers tighten around the fork, knuckles white as I bite down on my lip to keep from responding. What could I say that wouldn’t make it worse?

There’s a heavy pause before he speaks again, his voice dripping with disapproval. “You’re not a child anymore, Nerya. You need to act like it.”

Act like it. How do I act when my soul is shattered when the one person who was supposed to be mine ripped away the one thing that held me together? How do I pretend that I’m fine when I feel like I’m breaking apart with every breath? I swallow hard, the lump in my throat growing by the second.

Across the table, Lily shifts uncomfortably, her eyes darting between me and Father. I can see the worry in her gaze, the way she wants to speak but doesn’t dare. She’s too young to understand fully, but she can sense the tension. She always could.

“Father,” she finally says, her voice soft. “Maybe Nerya—"

“No,” he cuts her off sharply, his gaze never leaving me. “She needs to understand what’s expected of her.”

I want to scream. I want to tell him how much I’m hurting, how much I’m breaking, but the words die in my throat. I’ve learned long ago that there’s no point in arguing with him. He doesn’t understand. He’s never cared about emotions, about the weight of what we feel. To him, it’s all about strength, power, and survival.

I nod mechanically, staring down at the half-eaten food on my plate. The room feels colder than before, and a shiver runs down my spine. My chest tightens, and for a moment, I feel like I can’t breathe. I need air. I need to get out of here.

Without a word, I push back from the table, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. Lily jumps, startled, but Father doesn’t move. He just watches me with those cold, assessing eyes, the same look he always gives when he’s waiting for me to fail.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

I step outside, the cool evening air hitting my face like a slap. My chest heaves as I gulp in the air, desperate to calm the storm raging inside me. The moon is already high, its light casting a pale glow over the trees that surround our house.

I close my eyes, feeling the pull of the bond that still lingers, weak, but there. It tugs at me, reminding me of what I lost—what was never mine. My wolf stirs, restless, her silence more painful than any words she could have spoken.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep the pieces from falling apart. The silence presses down on me, heavy and suffocating, but there’s no escape from it.

It’s like a shadow, clinging to me no matter where I go.

And I’m too tired to fight it.

The night stretches out before me, cold and unforgiving. Just like the world I live in.

Just like him.