Doomed desires with my alpha stepfather

Elara POV 

It’s another morning in the Silvercrest Pack. 

I stand by my window, yawning widely. I’m tired, deeply tired, so tired that sleep doesn’t seem to help. I should go back to bed, pull the covers over my head, and pretend the day can wait. 

But it can’t. 

And even if it could, I wouldn’t let it. 

I have things to do today. 

Well, calling them “things” might be a stretch. It’s just my usual routine. The same schedule, the same expectations, the same controlled version of living I’ve mastered over the past year. 

The estate is quiet this early, wrapped in a calm that feels heavier than it should. Silence now settles into these walls, as if it belongs here. 

I rub my eyes and yawn again before pushing myself away from the window. There’s no point in standing here any longer. The longer I linger, the easier it is to start thinking, and overthinking is the last thing I need this morning. 

I head to the bathroom and turn on the shower, letting the water heat while I lean against the counter for a moment. 

I have a presentation today. 

That’s enough reason not to be late. 

Steam fills the room quickly, curling against the mirrors and softening my reflection until I barely recognize the girl staring back. I step under the water and let it run over me, warm and steady, washing away the last traces of sleep. 

I made a promise to myself a long time ago. 

To be strong. 

Because that’s who I was to him. 

Strong. 

It’s been a year since my father left this world. A year since Alpha Alaric Virelle fell in battle, his name brought back to us with honor and finality. People say he died a hero. They still say it, as if that’s supposed to make everything easier. 

It doesn’t. 

His absence isn’t loud. It doesn’t crash into me all at once or leave me sobbing in empty rooms. It’s quieter than that. It’s in the small things. The pauses at the dinner table. The empty space where his voice used to be. The way everyone still expects me to carry myself like his daughter, even when I feel nothing like her. 

People say a year is enough. 

That I should move on. That I should get back to my life. 

But how do you return to something that doesn’t exist the same way anymore? 

Everything I did, he was there. 

And now he’s not. 

I exhale slowly and tilt my head back, letting the water run over my face. 

No. 

Not today. 

I don’t want to start the morning drowning in memories. 

Today, I’m choosing something different. 

Today, I’m going to be active, present, and functional. 

That’s enough. 

When I step out of the shower, I don’t linger. I dry off quickly, wrap myself in a towel, and move straight to my closet. Rows of neatly arranged clothes stare back at me, options I don’t feel like thinking too hard about. 

I settle on something simple but polished. Something that says I have everything under control, even if I don’t. 

By the time I’m dressed, my hair is done, and my bag is packed, I look exactly like I’m supposed to. 

Put together. 

Untouchable. 

I leave my room and step into the hallway. The moment I do, a few of the maids straighten, offering soft greetings as I pass. 

“Good morning, Miss Elara.” 

“Good morning.” 

I nod at them, offering a small smile more out of habit than anything else. 

I’ve lived like this my whole life. 

Elara Virelle, daughter of Alpha Alaric Virelle. 

Even now, after his death, that title hasn’t changed. If anything, it holds more weight. Expectations follow me everywhere, woven into every glance, every word, every silence. 

Royalty, they call it. 

Sometimes it feels more like a cage. 

I make my way down the staircase and into the dining area, where the scent of breakfast greets me before anything else. 

My mother is already seated at the table, composed as always, flipping through something on her tablet while a cup of tea sits untouched beside her. 

“Good morning, Mom,” I say, pulling out a chair. 

She looks up immediately, her expression softening when she sees me. 

“Elara, you’re running late,” she says, though her tone carries more concern than reprimand. 

“I’m not that late,” I reply, reaching for a piece of toast. 

“You say that every morning.” 

“And I’m still always on time.” 

She gives me a look that says she doesn’t fully believe me, but lets it go anyway. A maid steps forward to place a plate in front of me, already prepared. 

“Eat properly,” my mother adds. “You have school, and you mentioned a presentation yesterday.” 

“I remember,” I say, taking a bite. “I’ll survive.” 

She watches me for a moment longer, as if she’s trying to read something I’m not showing, then finally nods. 

“Alright.” 

The conversation stays light after that. Small talk. Nothing too deep or too heavy. It’s easier that way. 

When I’m done, I stand and grab my bag. 

“I’ll see you later.” 

She rises slightly and presses a brief kiss to my forehead, her hand brushing my hair back in a familiar gesture. 

“Have a good day,” she says softly. 

“I will.” 

I turn before the moment can stretch too long and head out of the dining area, moving through the mansion toward the front entrance. 

The morning air hits me the second I step outside, cool and refreshing, carrying the quiet strength of the pack with it. The estate is already alive in its own way, guards stationed, staff moving efficiently, everything running exactly as it should. 

Right on cue, a sleek black car pulls up in front of me. 

The driver steps out immediately, opening the door with practiced ease. 

“Good morning, Miss Elara,” he says respectfully. 

“Good morning, Joe.”

I slid into the back seat and settled in as he closed the door behind me and returned to the front. Once we started moving, I reached into my bag and pulled out the rest of my breakfast, finishing it without much thought.

The ride to school was smooth and quiet.

Predictable.

I leaned back against the seat, staring out the window as the estate faded behind us and the city began to take shape ahead.

Another day.

Another routine.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

At least, not yet.

In less than an hour, the car slowed and came to a stop in front of the wide gates of Aurelian Academy.

“We’ve arrived, ma,” Joe said from the front, already stepping out to open the door for me. “Have a good day. Just let me know when to come pick you up.”

“Sure. Bye, Joe,” I replied as I stepped out.

The moment my shoes touched the pavement, I felt it.

The stares.

They weren’t new. They had never been new.

I ignored them and walked forward, my posture straight and my expression composed. Being watched was part of my life. It always had been. And coming back after eleven months only made it worse.

Yes, eleven months away from school.

That alone should have set me back, but it didn’t. I resumed just yesterday, and today I was already presenting in class.

Because absence doesn’t mean weakness.

And I refused to let anyone think otherwise.

Aurelian Academy stood tall before me, as imposing as ever. It wasn’t just a school. It was a statement. Wealth, power, influence—all gathered in one place.

A hybrid institution.

Humans and werewolves coexisting in what the administration liked to call “unity.”

We didn’t go around announcing what we were. No labels or signs, just control, discipline, and awareness.

The humans here came from powerful families, influential enough to be kept close but not close enough to know everything. They didn’t know what we truly were.

And we intended to keep it that way.

As I walked further in, blending into the steady flow of students, footsteps approached from behind, confident and familiar.

“You just got here?”

I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

I smiled slightly and glanced at him. “Yeah. Late, aren’t I?”

Kael fell into step beside me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his presence as steady as ever.

“Not really, my lady,” he said with a quiet laugh.

I rolled my eyes at the title but didn’t argue. Kael had always been like this. Loyal and consistent. One of the few things in my life that hadn’t changed.

We walked into class together.

And then I saw her.

Lyra.

She was already seated, legs crossed, chewing gum with unnecessary emphasis. Her gaze locked onto me the moment I entered, sharp and unapologetic.

I didn’t react.

I took my seat as if she didn’t exist.

A few students greeted me, some genuinely happy to see me back, others just curious. I responded politely, keeping everything surface level.

Then Lyra spoke.

“Well, look who finally decided to come back,” she said, her tone smooth and almost pleasant. “We were starting to think you forgot how school works.”

A few people chuckled softly.

I didn’t even look at her.

“Good morning to you too, Lyra,” I said calmly, setting my things down.

Her smile tightened slightly.

That was enough for me.

Moments later, the lecturer walked in, cutting through the room’s energy instantly. Conversations died down, chairs shifted, and attention turned forward.

“Alright, everyone,” he began, placing his materials on the desk. “We have a presentation this morning.”

A few eyes turned toward me.

Of course they did.

“Miss Virelle,” he called. “You may begin.”

I stood without hesitation, picking up the marker as I moved to the board. The room felt heavier now, not because I was nervous, but because of expectation.

Eleven months away.

They were waiting to see if I had fallen behind.

I didn’t give them the satisfaction.

“This will focus on applied calculus in dynamic systems,” I began, my voice steady. “Specifically nonlinear differential equations and their behavior under variable constraints.”

A few students straightened.

Others blinked.

I turned to the board and began writing, the marker moving smoothly as equations took shape. Not basic work. Not anything simple enough to dismiss.

I explained as I wrote, breaking down each step clearly without slowing the pace. Integration, substitution, system behavior, stability points. Everything flowed the way it always had.

Natural.

Controlled.

Certain.

At some point, the room went completely quiet.

Not confused.

Focused.

By the time I finished, I stepped back slightly and placed the marker down.

Silence held for a second.

Then—

Applause.

Not loud or dramatic, but enough. Enough to be real.

The lecturer nodded, clearly impressed. “Very well done, Miss Virelle. Precise and confident. I see your time away hasn’t affected your academic performance.”

“It hasn’t,” I replied simply.

I returned to my seat.

Kael leaned slightly closer and lowered his voice. “How did you even do that?”

I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Being away doesn’t mean I got dumb.”

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

I allowed myself a small smile before looking away—

And that’s when I felt it.

A gaze.

Steady. Unmoving.

I turned slightly and met the source.

Cassian Valecrest.

Beta of the Moonveil Pack.

He wasn’t smiling or impressed in the way others were.

He was watching.

Like he was trying to understand something.

Our eyes held for a brief moment.

Then I looked away first.

And for some reason, that lingered longer than it should have.

Hours later,

By the time night settled over Silvercrest, the estate had shifted into its quieter rhythm. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty, just controlled.

I had already showered again, changed into something more comfortable, and made my way down to the dining area where my mother usually insisted we eat together whenever she was home.

I sat at the long table, waiting as servants finished setting the last of the dishes. The faint clink of plates and soft movement around the room filled the space while I rested my elbows lightly on the table.

That was when my mind drifted back.

Back to school.

To the end of the day.

Kael had walked with me, hands in his pockets, talking casually as we left the academy grounds.

“You should come around the pack fortress tomorrow,” he had said as we approached the car.

I had looked at him like he was asking too much.

The pack fortress.

Where warriors trained. Where leadership meetings happened. Where everything serious about being Silvercrest actually took place.

I wasn’t absent from it completely, but I also wasn’t deeply involved. Not like Kael. Not like the others.

I let out a tired sigh that day. “I don’t really spend much time there.”

“I know,” he had replied easily. “That’s why I’m saying come. Training’s been inconsistent for you.”

I raised an eyebrow at him as I opened the car door. “Are you trying to turn me into a warrior now?”

“I’m trying to stop you from getting rusty,” he said, half-smiling.

That made me pause for a second.

Then I shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think fast,” he added. “Before you forget again.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no real bite behind it. “Bye, Kael.”

“Bye, my lady,” he said with that familiar teasing tone.

And then I got into the car.

Now, sitting here in the dining room, I wondered if I actually would go.

Maybe I would.

Maybe tomorrow.

It would be a long ride, though.

My thoughts were cut off when footsteps approached, and my mother stepped out of the kitchen.

As if on cue, food was brought out and placed neatly in front of me. The warm aroma filled the room immediately, grounding me back into the present.

“My Elara,” my mother said as she sat across from me.

“Good evening, Mom,” I replied softly.

We began eating.

For a while, it was simple.

Normal.

The kind of normal that felt almost fragile, like it could break if either of us said the wrong thing.

My mother asked about school. I answered. I asked about her day. She answered. Small exchanges, familiar rhythm.

Then I brought it up casually, almost absentmindedly.

“I might go to the training grounds tomorrow,” I said, taking a bite.

That made her pause slightly.

Her eyes lifted toward me.

“Oh?” she said, a little surprised. “What brought that change?”

I shrugged. “Kael suggested it.”

Since I lost my dad, I stopped that as well.

She smiled faintly, like she was already forming an idea in her head. “That's good. You should spend more time outside school and the mansion. Maybe even meet someone properly while you’re at it.”

I looked at her.

“Meet someone?” I repeated.

“Yes,” she said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re young. You shouldn’t isolate yourself. Go to school, train, live a little. Maybe even let a nice young man fall in love with you.”

Something in my chest tightened slightly, but I didn’t show it.

Because my mind, uninvited, went somewhere else.

Somewhere I had no business going.

A man.

Older.

Controlled.

Dangerous in a way that didn’t feel loud, but quiet and consuming.

A man I had not seen properly since that first time he stepped into our lives.

And now I was supposed to tell my mother that my thoughts didn’t belong to some boy my age?

That they belonged to him?

Absolutely not.

Instead, I laughed lightly, brushing it off.

“Me? A boyfriend?” I said, shaking my head slightly. “Mom, please.”

She smiled at me like she didn’t believe my reaction was that serious, and for a moment, I let it stay that way.

Then I tilted my head slightly.

“Speaking of which,” I said, lightly teasing, “aren’t you bored? You should try a dating app or something. Maybe fall in love too.”

She actually laughed at that.

A real laugh.

“Dating apps?” she repeated, amused. “Elara, please.”

“I’m serious,” I said, leaning back slightly. “You’re acting like I’m the only one who should have a life.”

That made her laugh again, softer this time.

Then she stirred her tea gently, like the thought had already been sitting in her mind for a while.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” she said.

The fork in my hand paused mid-air.

I blinked once.

Then I smiled again, slow and easy.

“Oh?” I said, tone light. “Mom, that’s actually nice. I’m happy for you.”

And I meant it.

At least, I thought I did.

She studied me for a second, like she was waiting for a stronger reaction, but when she didn’t get one, she continued.

“He’s very… composed,” she said, a small smile forming. “Strong presence. You’ll like him once you meet him properly. He would be here tomorrow”

I nodded slowly, still smiling.

“Sounds good,” I said.

“What’s his name?” My voice was steady.

Too steady.

Then she said it.

“Ryder Thorne.”

The world did not just pause.

It stopped.

Completely.

My fingers loosened around the fork without me realizing it, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe properly.

Ryder Thorne.

No.

Not him.

Not that name.

Not in this context.

My mind repeated it again and again, trying to reject it, trying to disconnect it from reality, but it didn’t change.

My mother was still speaking.

The room was still there.

But everything inside me had gone silent.

And the only thing left was one thought, looping endlessly, sharp and disbelieving.

No.

Not him.