Chapter 2

Elsa clutched Kane's claw and said pitifully, "It's my fault, Kane. Don't blame Aria anymore. She didn't know I was allergic to nuts. I promise… she didn't mean to hurt me."

Kane's expression hardened, his voice cold and emotionless. "That arrogant she-wolf only cares about herself—all because we spoiled her like a pup."

Kelvin added sharply, "If Aria hadn't been so narrow-minded, Elsa's wolf wouldn't have suffered like this."

Hearing this, Elsa deliberately rolled up a patch of her fur, revealing the red, swollen lumps from her allergic reaction. They hadn't faded. She made sure my brothers saw every mark.

Karl reached out to touch the bumps, his voice laced with concern. "Are you feeling better now?"

Elsa shook her head slightly, her voice trembling, "Not really… but don't worry, it doesn't hurt that much."

She extended her claws just enough to seem weak and pitiful, her eyes glistening with tears that threatened to fall.

Kelvin growled, rage boiling in his chest. "If we'd reached the infirmary a minute later, Elsa's wolf might have been permanently damaged! And Aria—she hasn't shown the slightest regret or care. No mind-link. No apology. Nothing."

Kane snarled, his claws unsheathing. "Bring that she-wolf here. Now! I refuse to believe she's still too stubborn to apologize!"

"The reason she's like this is because we loved her too blindly!" Kelvin and Karl snapped in unison. "This time, she won't escape the punishment she deserves!"

They turned sharply to a nearby guard. "Why are you just standing there?" Kane barked. "Bring Aria to us. And don't forget the silver whip!"

Kane's fury exploded. He howled, "Elsa wouldn't have ended up in the infirmary for three days if Aria hadn't given her that damn almond cake! It's time we teach that ungrateful wolf how to behave in this den!"

The guard nodded quickly and ran off toward the cellar.

Meanwhile, I stood there—unseen, unheard—watching everything as a ghost.

My smile was bitter. My heart was shattered beyond repair.

They trusted Elsa so blindly that they never even bothered to investigate.

Three days ago, she asked me to buy her almond cake. She never told me she was allergic.

I bought it only because I wanted to bond with her—build a friendship.

Her allergy was a complete shock to me. But she twisted it into a weapon, and they… they believed her instantly.

Kane—the smartest and most capable Alpha of our pack—was completely blind to her games.

How could he be so quick to condemn me? Couldn't he see she was manipulating them, drawing all their attention like a black hole?

I realized, with aching clarity: In their eyes, I was never as important as Elsa.

Not even close.

But it didn't matter anymore. I had already died in that cellar. They could pour all their love into Elsa now. Let her have everything.

A guard returned, pale and trembling. "Alpha Kane… there's no response from the cellar. We knocked several times. Not a sound. Not even a growl from her wolf."

Kane's claws extended again, grinding against the stone floor. "What kind of game is she playing now? Still refusing to apologize after nearly killing Elsa? What—does she think silence will save her pride?"

Elsa stepped forward slowly, lowering her eyes. Her voice was soft, fragile.

"Please… don't blame Aria anymore. I'm just a rogue-blood she-wolf. My blood isn't as noble as hers. She's the daughter of the late Alpha, and your beloved sister. How could I expect her to kneel and apologize to someone as low as me?"

Kane's wolf snarled furiously, baring his fangs. "She thinks she can hide in silence and escape punishment? She wants attention? Fine. Let's see how she handles banishment."

Kelvin shouted, "Drive her out! If she dares to act like a victim, let's see how long she lasts without our protection!"

Karl growled, "She won't leave until she kneels and begs Elsa for forgiveness. That's the least she should do!"

As they barked orders and howled out their fury, none of them noticed the truth standing right next to them.

The truth that their beloved sister—the one who had loved them more than her own life—was already gone.

And they had no one to blame but themselves.