LOGINThe dining room hadn’t changed.
The chandelier above still spilt warm light across the polished table. Portraits of past Alphas watched from the walls, their painted eyes following every movement, and the dining table stretched nearly the length of the room, large enough for twenty people to gather around it. Tonight, only two seats were occupied. My mother sat with the same effortless elegance she carried everywhere, her posture flawless, her expression unreadable. Beside her, at the head of the table, sat Alpha Marcus. Time had been kinder to him than it had any right to be. Grey now threaded through his dark beard, but it only added to the quiet authority he carried. His suit fit like it had been made exclusively for him, and he didn’t have to raise his voice or even stand to remind everyone exactly who ruled this pack. Power clung to him as naturally as breathing. The conversation stopped the moment I stepped inside. Marcus looked up. His sharp eyes settled on me, studying me carefully. Not judging. Observing. Then something shifted in his expression after a few seconds. Concern. It was subtle, almost hidden, but I caught it. “Sylvia,” he said warmly. I stopped a respectful distance from the table and dipped my head.“Alpha Marcus.” His mouth curved into a faint smile.”You’ve grown.” There was a brief pause before he added quietly, “You don’t have to call me that.” My eyes lifted to his. “You can call me Father.” He insists. The room fell silent. The single word echoed louder than it should have. Before I could even think about answering, my mother’s voice sliced through the moment. “Marcus.”She offered him a polite smile that never reached her eyes.“Don’t pressure her. She may not be ready.” Ready. The word dragged me years into the past. I was thirteen again.Scared.Desperate to belong. The first time Marcus had asked me to call him Father, I’d accepted without hesitation. I thought it meant I finally had a place in this family. Mother had smiled through the entire dinner. Then she’d taken me back to our quarters and the smile disappeared the moment the door closed. Eventually the bruises faded after a few weeks but the lesson never did. I remembered her saying never call another man Father. Never forget your place. But now as I glanced at my mother. She wasn’t smiling anymore. She didn’t have to. The warning was there in her eyes. The same silent threat she’d used for years. Only this time… I wasn’t a child anymore. Then I steeled my resolve turned back to Marcus. And said “I don’t mind calling you Father.” The words came out calm. Steady and they sounded Intentional. For the first time since arriving home, my mother’s composure cracked. Only slightly. But I saw it. Good. She couldn’t drag me into a room and hit me anymore. She couldn’t leave bruises where no one would see them. And if she ever tried again… She’d discover that the frightened little girl she sent away had never come back. Someone else had returned in her place. But the words I was itching to say the most were “Dear Mother, I still remember when you left bruises on places my dress could cover, but I Swear On The Old And New Gods If You Touch Me Again I Will Kill You”. Even though I was physically weak, I could feel something ancient waking up deep inside me, whispering that I could slaughter everybody in this room if I wanted to. The air in the room grew suddenly heavy. Alpha Marcus’s eyes narrowed, his gaze tracking the sudden, lethal shift in my posture. Whatever he saw in my face made him sit up a fraction straighter as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. He gestured toward the chair beside him. “Come. Sit with us.” I pulled out the chair and took my seat, careful to keep my movements composed even though my nerves refused to settle. “So,” he began, folding his hands on the table, “your mother tells me you’ve wrapped up with your studies.” “Yes, Father.” The word still felt unfamiliar, but I didn’t hesitate this time. “I earned my BSc in Accounting, but I'm also taking a course in Economics.” “Impressive.”His approval sounded genuine. “An education like that opens many doors. You’ll have opportunities most people never will.” I thanked him with a small nod. “There’s actually a reason I wanted you here tonight,” he continued. “I’m waiting for Elias before I explain everything. What I have to say concerns both of you.” I blinked.“Elias is coming?” The question escaped before I could stop it. The thought ignited a fire in my chest. I hadn’t realised how much I’d hoped to see him until that moment. Across the table, my mother’s expression darkened ever so slightly. Her lips pressed together. Her eyes narrowed. Years ago, that look would have been enough to silence me. Not anymore. Alpha Marcus noticed the change in my face almost immediately.“You seem happy.” I looked down for a second before answering.“He was always kind to me.” I chose my words carefully.“Back then when we were younger… he never treated me like a burden the way everyone else did.” Marcus gave a thoughtful nod.“I imagine he’ll be pleased to know you’re home.” Then his expression shifted, curiosity replacing warmth. “And what about your time away? Did anyone manage to steal your heart?” The question caught me completely off guard. “No.”I smiled awkwardly.“I spent most of my time studying.” Before Marcus could reply, my mother’s voice slipped into the conversation.“Studying isn’t everything.” She reached for her drink without looking at me. “You’re twenty-five now. It’s time you started thinking about getting married instead of school.” I opened my mouth, but Marcus answered first.“There’s no need to rush her.”His tone remained calm, though something calculating flickered behind his eyes. “Sylvia has only just…” Footsteps echoed outside. Every conversation stopped. Without thinking, I turned toward the doorway. My heartbeat stumbled. The doors swung open. Elias walked inside. For a second… I almost didn’t recognise him. The young boy I’d remembered had vanished. The man standing before me was taller by several inches, broad through the shoulders, his frame filled out by the kind of lean muscle that a tailored black suit could never fully hide. Dark hair was combed neatly back from his forehead, drawing my entire focus to a sharp, hard-edged jawline that looked even more ruthless than I remembered. Confidence surrounded him. and it wasn't something I could possibly ignore. He acknowledged his father with a respectful nod before his gaze swept across the room. Then…His eyes found mine. And at that moment everything else disappeared. The chatter in the hallway.The clink of silverware.Even my own breathing. Those dark eyes locked onto me with such intensity that I forgot where I was. My heart skipped once… Then exploded into a racing thud. Heat spread through my body before I understood what was happening. The scent that drifted toward me was unlike anything I’d ever known. It was clean and rich—like the scent of a luxury soap so intoxicating it makes you want to taste it, despite knowing better and beneath the fresh earthiness lay something dangerous and wild, calling directly to a place inside me I didn’t even know existed. I inhaled before I could stop myself. One breath became two. Then three. Every instinct I possessed urged me closer. Closer to him.Closer to that scent. My fingers tightened around the edge of the table until my knuckles turned pale. What is happening to me? Elias hadn’t moved. Neither had I. But the space between us suddenly felt charged, as though invisible threads had wrapped around us both. His expression changed. Shock flashed across his face. Then disbelief as his entire body stiffened.Sylvia, meanwhile, settles into our department as though she has been there for months rather than weeks. She works through complicated disputes without complaining, asks questions when she needs clarification, and catches details other members of staff overlook. Her competence speaks for itself, leaving very little room for anyone to dismiss her as the girl with the Alpha’s protection. She eats lunch at her desk, keeps her personal life to herself, and maintains the distance she has chosen between us. And if our eyes happen to meet across the office, she looks away first. It is exactly what I wanted when I decided to keep my distance. So why does every day feel worse than the one before? By Friday afternoon, I’ve almost convinced myself that I can get through another meeting without looking at Sylvia. I arrive early to prepare the conference room for the weekly alliance meeting, arranging the territorial maps and negotiation files while representatives from th
~ Elias ~ The bass from the club vibrates through the floor as I settle into the seat opposite Danny, but the music does nothing to drown out my thoughts. Outside the private lounge, people crowd the dance floor, drinking, laughing, and moving to a beat loud enough to make conversation impossible. In here, the lighting is low, the door is closed, and a server waits outside to bring us whatever we need without asking questions. It’s exactly why I chose this place. I need somewhere I can sit without anyone's prying eyes watching me struggle to keep myself together. Danny has already finished his second drink. I’m working on my fifth, and the whiskey is beginning to take the sharpest edge off my anger. I reach for the bottle again, but Danny watches me pour with an expression that makes me want to throw the glass at him. “If you’re this miserable, why don’t you just go to her?” he asks, leaning back against the couch. “You’re sitting here drinking yourself stupid when you cou
I intend to. I open the door and leave before he can find a reason to excuse himself. My footsteps carry me down the corridor, but the anger follows, refusing to ease. I want to go back and demand that he do something, anything, that proves Sylvia’s suffering matters to him. Instead, I keep walking because I know how that conversation will end. He will tell me to respect his authority, and I will remind him that authority without responsibility is worthless. Neither of us will change the other’s mind tonight, and I have no intention of wasting another hour trying to make him understand something he has already decided to ignore. So I abandon the idea and continue down the corridor. My feet carry me toward Sylvia’s wing before I consciously decide where I’m going. When I reach her room, I slow down, my gaze settling on the space beside her door where I left the food earlier. The container is gone. I stop, looking at the empty spot for a moment longer than necessary. The l
~ Elias ~ “Tell me how long you intend to let your wife abuse Sylvia.” I slam my father’s study door open before he can answer the knock I never bothered to give him. He looks up from the documents spread across his desk, surprise briefly crossing his face before his expression settles into the familiar, unreadable look he wears whenever someone interrupts him with a problem he would rather not deal with. “Elias, what is this about?” Dad asks, setting his pen down. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” I stride into the room, fury making it difficult to keep my voice level. “You know what happens in this house. You’ve known for years, and you’ve done absolutely nothing about it.” My father studies me for a moment before reaching for the papers again. “Close the door.” “No.” His eyes lift. “I wasn’t asking you.” I turn and shut it hard enough to rattle the frame, then face him again. He gestures toward the chair opposite his desk, but I remain standing, unwilling to sit thr
Elias reaches for the remaining bandage, and I watch him in silence, still thinking about what he said about our parents. His reaction to the word siblings was different from what I expected, almost angry enough to make me forget the pain in my cheek. I turn my face away before he can catch me studying him, but he gently guides my chin back toward him. “Hold still,” he tells me, pressing the bandage into place. “I am holding still,” I mutter, though I resist the urge to pull away when his fingers brush my skin. He finishes securing the dressing and checks the edges, making sure they cover the scratches. His touch is careful, nothing like the roughness I have come to expect from him, and I hate how easily that small difference unsettles me. “Have you had something to eat?” he asks, putting the first aid supplies aside. “I’m not hungry.” His eyes return to mine. “When did you last eat?” “Why do you care?” “Don't test me, Sylvia.” “Then stop asking questions you have no
I touch the edge of one with my fingertips and immediately pull away. “ I hope it doesn't leave a scar,” I mutter, turning toward the bathroom. The overhead light is harsh when I switch it on, revealing every scar my mother has left behind. I don’t want to look at them any longer, so I pull off my clothes and step into the shower, turning the water warm enough to loosen the tension in my shoulders. Blood washes away from my skin and circles the drain, and only then do I realise that I am crying. I let the water run over my face despite the sting, keeping my eyes closed until the tears become impossible to distinguish from the water. There is nothing I can do about what happened downstairs, nothing I can say that will make my mother regret her actions. For tonight, I only want to feel clean. When I finish, I wrap myself in a towel and search beneath the bathroom sink until I find a first aid kit. It contains everything I need, including antiseptic, cotton wool, gauze, and sev







