18

Zara still remembered clearly the day she got her first period at sixteen.

Back then, she didn’t understand anything. Her stomach cramped, blood was flowing, and she was terrified out of her mind. She ran to her father with a pale face. Caksa panicked badly, like an Alpha who had suddenly lost his direction in the middle of a storm.

Without asking many questions, he immediately took Zara to the pack clinic and called for the best doctor.

After the doctor explained that it was simply a normal physiological process for women, no curse, no illness, no sign of a failed bloodline Caksa and Zara both froze in awkwardness.

Her father looked confused about what he was supposed to say.

Zara felt the same.

Since that day, there had been a subtle distance between them, something she couldn’t quite explain. And because of that too, at first Zara could still understand her father’s decision to marry again.

She thought her father needed a companion.

 She thought the house needed an adult woman’s presence.

So when Wenny entered as the “new wife,” Zara tried to swallow all that unfamiliarity.

Even though Jane, the child Wenny brought with her often rebelled, snatched Zara’s toys, even took clothes that should have belonged to Zara, Zara still held herself back.

What made it more bitter was that every time Zara complained, her father always went soft. He would tell Zara to give in instead.

“Jane is still little.”

 “Don’t be petty.”

 “You have to be a good older sister.”

And Zara, who was still far too innocent to understand anything, chose silence.

She endured.

She obeyed.

She swallowed the pain with one simple hope if she gave in enough, the house would stay whole. If she sacrificed enough, the pack harmony wouldn’t fall apart.

Until five years ago, when Jane accidentally let a secret slip.

A secret that destroyed everything.

That was when Zara learned that Wenny wasn’t her father’s “second wife,” like she had been told all those years. Wenny was a woman Caksa had secretly kept outside the home for years.

And Jane.

Jane wasn’t Wenny’s child from another man.

Jane was Caksa’s illegitimate daughter.

The blood running through Jane’s body was her father’s blood.

When that truth slapped Zara in the face, it felt like the wolf in her chest was howling in agony. She was furious so furious she nearly went mad.

She confronted her father.

She demanded that Caksa throw Wenny and Jane out of the house.

But before Zara could even finish speaking, her father’s harsh slap landed across her cheek sending a burning sting all the way to her bones.

That slap wasn’t just a slap.

It was an announcement.

An announcement that everything she had believed in was dead.

From that moment on, Zara understood: the home she once worshipped as a “castle” had collapsed. The father who used to hold her warmly was buried with her mother.

All that remained was a stranger wearing her father’s face.

And that house?

That house no longer belonged to Zara.

That house belonged to Jane.

While Zara was only a shadow, an unwanted guest forced to smile so she wouldn’t be thrown out completely.

Zara had once been patient so she wouldn’t burden her father.

But as time passed, her patience turned into a way to survive.

A way to keep herself from breaking first.

“Jane, who is that?”

A noble girl’s voice came from beside Jane.

The girl stood elegantly in a thick fur coat, proof she came from a prominent pack, her pheromone scent sharp and trained, the unmistakable mark of aristocratic werewolf upbringing.

She stared at Zara with a furrowed brow, clearly trying to remember.

A few seconds later, her expression shifted, like she’d finally found the missing puzzle piece.

Her eyes narrowed, lips curling into a sneer.

“Oh I’ve seen you before,” she said softly, but it cut deep. “You’re the Luna bonded to that Alpha Jordan, aren’t you?”

Jane let out a small laugh.

Her laughter was cold.

“Yes,” Jane answered mockingly. “She used to chase Declan like crazy. Even Pack Peakmoon became a joke because of it.”

Zara didn’t respond.

In truth, Pack Peakmoon hadn’t suffered that much. They had even gained a few benefits from their connection to Pack Jordan.

People in her pack used to say that Zara being humiliated in Jordan territory didn’t really affect Peakmoon’s reputation. Everyone knew the marriage wasn’t about love, it was the result of a plan made by Zara and her late mother.

But Jane had never been able to accept it.

Because in her mind, that position should have been hers.

Jane was convinced that if she had been the one to marry Declan, everything would have been different.

She would have been adored.

 She would have been respected.

 She would have been a Luna feared and revered not laughed at.

Zara had heard Jane’s mockery too many times.

She had been the target of provocation for far too long.

So this time, Zara didn’t overreact.

She only looked at them for a moment just a glance then turned to leave.

But Jane wasn’t going to let her off that easily.

“Zara! Where do you think you’re going?”

Jane stepped forward quickly, blocking her path. She stood right in front of Zara, like a young wolf trying to bare her fangs at someone she thought was weaker.

Jane rolled her eyes, staring at Zara with disgust.

“You can’t even greet people?” she sneered. “No manners at all. Here carry these.”

As she spoke, Jane tried to shove her shopping bags and even the noble girl’s gift boxes into Zara’s hands, forcing Zara to play servant in public.

Zara took one step back.

Jane failed to force the items into her arms.

The noble girl beside Jane looked uneasy, probably afraid of being associated with something so embarrassing.

“Enough, Jane,” she tried to soothe her. “No matter what, she's still the daughter-in-law of Pack Jordan.”

That sentence only poured oil onto Jane’s fire.

Her face tightened.

“Daughter-in-law of what?” Jane snapped. “She’s just a leech! Clinging to Alpha Jordan, and in the end she still loses! Even if she married him, she’s still pathetic!”

The words poured out like curses.

After spitting her insults, Jane turned to the noble girl.

And sure enough the girl raised her thumb, as if impressed by Jane’s boldness in humiliating Zara.

Jane was satisfied.

She felt victorious.

She thought Zara would stay silent as usual, lower her head, swallow everything, then walk away with her head down.

Jane even took a breath, ready to continue her next wave of insults.

But before she could speak again, Zara looked at her and said calmly too calmly.

“We have the same father, different mothers,” Zara said flatly. “The blood running in our bodies is the same.”

Zara paused, holding Jane’s gaze without fear.

“If you call me pathetic,” Zara continued, her voice soft but sharp, “then what do you want to be called?”