Chapter 3: Stuck In Their Plans

AMAYA

Have you ever regretted being born into a particular family or status?

Gosh, I hated politics. It was so exhausting, and the saddest part was that I couldn't even escape it. I just wished I were a normal she-wolf, far away from all this endless drama.

“Relax, Logan. It’s not like he hasn’t been winning all this time,” Mother said gently to Father.

That single sentence was like pouring petrol onto an open flame.

They immediately erupted into another shouting match.

“I have never lost to Desmond during a hunt!” Father snapped, his jaw clenched tight. “I was always the best, and our company is the leading enterprise in the territory. He always comes second to me. So why can’t you be like me, Ronan?”

Ronan suddenly burst into a dry, ugly laugh.

“You’ve never lost to him?” he repeated, shaking his head. “What about the story of how his project won the regional bid two years ago? You failed too, Father. Just like me.”

Ronan's bitter smile slowly faded.

“But you recovered and took your top position back. I’ll do the exact same thing.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Father challenged, taking a step toward him. “You’re tied now, and you’ve already lost to Lucien twice in a row. What makes you so sure you’ll win next month?”

Ronan stared at him in tense silence for a long moment.

“Then tell me, Father,” he shot back, his voice dropping an octave, “what makes you so sure he will win next month?”

A suffocating quiet fell over the study.

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. Whenever the room became this still, it meant the worst of the argument was over. I exhaled deeply, letting my shoulders drop as I soaked in the silence.

This was the kind of peace I loved.

“Fine. I know you’ll take it back, because you’re your father’s son,” Father said, finally caving as he clapped a heavy hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Now get ready. The elders are already waiting downstairs. You’ll be joining today’s council meeting so you can learn more about pack affairs.”

I saw the immediate disapproval flash across Ronan’s face as he slowly brushed Father’s hand off his shoulder.

“I already have plans tonight.”

Father’s brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing. “What plans?” he asked, his tone turning dangerously cold.

My hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. Here comes another storm.

“The team and I are going out to celebrate tonight,” Ronan blurted out, bracing himself for the impact.

Immediately, a deep, deafening growl ripped through Father’s chest—so loud that both Mother and I winced in irritation.

“Who the hell celebrates a failure?!” Father bellowed.

“Father, two months ago when we beat Lucien, he still took his team out to celebrate and completely ruined our night!” Ronan argued back, his voice dripping with his usual stubborn arrogance. “Why can’t I do the same, huh?”

I saw the shift in my father’s expression as he weighed the logic behind the pettiness.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head in utter disappointment. Here we go again. Everything has to be a competition.

“Fine. If that’s the reason, so be it,” Father declared.

“Have you lost your mind, Logan?!” Mother yelled, stepping between them. “You know what happened at the club two months ago! The kids were injured, and a fight nearly broke out between our packs. I won't let that happen again.”

“Relax, Evelyn. Ronan is my blood. He’s stronger than you think.” Father offered her that sarcastic, gentle smile he always used when he wanted to shut down an argument. “Have you ever seen Ronan get bested in a fight?”

Fortunately, when it came to the rivalry, no lives had ever been lost. The clashes were always an aggressive test of dominance between the Moonfire and Nightblood packs. If it were otherwise, I doubted there’d be a single soul left alive in either territory—death would be a daily occurrence. Still, you could never predict what would happen when tempers flared. Someone could easily be pushed too far and end up with a broken neck.

“But, Logan—”

“Come on, my beloved mother. You worry way too much about me, and that’s why I love you.” Ronan quickly leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to Mother’s forehead, effectively cutting her off.

I shook my head silently. I knew this script by heart. Like father, like son. Mother and I were always left to pick up the pieces.

“Fine. You can go, but under one condition,” Mother said, her sharp gaze locking onto Ronan.

Ronan and Father exchanged a baffled look before Ronan masked it with a smooth, charming smile. “And what condition would that be, my love?”

“Amaya goes with you,” Mother announced firmly.

My heart stopped dead in my chest.

“What?!” Ronan and I screamed in unison.

“No, Mother, please! I have things to do, and I hate noisy places!” I blurted out, panic rising as tears stung the backs of my eyes.

“No way, Mother!” Ronan protested, waving his hands dismissively. “That place isn't for Amaya. The people at those clubs are corrupt. Our Amaya is too naive for that environment.”

I nodded frantically in agreement.

“Who are you calling naive?” Mother snapped, turning her sharp eyes on him. “She’ll be eighteen in two weeks! She’s going to get her wolf and be paired with a mate. Do you think she can hide in her room forever once that happens?”

She paused, a flash of silver swirling in her irises as her wolf surfaced near the top.

“And I’m not sending her there to get corrupt. I’m sending her to watch you and stop you from doing anything stupid.”

The room went dead silent.

There was a terrifying weight to Mother’s silver wolf. Whenever it surfaced, her command was absolute, leaving everyone around her temporarily numb. We were practically puppets in her hands whenever she used it.

Honestly, I desperately wanted a wolf like hers. Imagine being able to make everyone shut up with a single look—gosh, that would be amazing. Ronan’s wolf was jet-black, just like Father’s, but since I looked so much like Mother, there was a high chance I’d inherit her silver line.

“Mother, please... I really don’t want to go,” I whispered, my heart hammering so hard against my ribs that I could hear it in my ears.

She immediately softened, stepping forward to pull me into a warm, gentle hug.

“Baby girl, there’s nothing wrong with going out once in a while. You don’t have any friends your age. You barely speak to anyone outside this house. Even the pups you read stories to have friends.”

“They are my friends, Mother.”

“No, sweetheart. They’re eight years old, and you’re nearly eighteen. You need peers.” She pulled back slightly, looking straight into my eyes. “And I’m not asking you to go make best friends tonight. Just keep your brother from starting a war, okay?”

I let out a long, defeated exhale, my shoulders sagging.

“Fine, Mother,” I mumbled. “I’ll go.”