The first Crack

POV: Silas

​I stood at the head of the long dining table and watched the seats fill up with my high-ranking warriors and their mates, but my mind wasn't on the border reports or the upcoming hunt because I couldn't stop thinking about the way Elara had looked at me in her bedroom.

I expected her to come downstairs and take her usual spot at the very end of the table, sitting in that small, uncomfortable chair where she used to keep her head down and barely eat a thing, but when the doors opened, she didn't even look toward the foot of the table.

She walked in with a steady pace and pulled out a neutral chair right in the middle of the row, sitting down between two of my lead scouts who looked at her like she had just grown a second head.

​"Elara, that isn't where you sit," I said, my voice carrying across the room and causing the clinking of silverware to stop instantly, but she just looked up at me with those calm, hollow eyes.

​"Is there a name card on the table that I missed, Silas, or is the wood in this particular spot reserved for someone else?" she asked, and she didn't wait for my answer before she started reaching for the bowl of salad in front of her.

​"You know exactly where you belong," I muttered, but I didn't push it because the entire pack was watching, and I didn't want to start a scene that would make me look like I couldn't even control my own mate.

​Nadia sat to my right and leaned in close, her scent of expensive perfume usually something I enjoyed, but tonight it felt irritatingly strong and cloying.

"She’s doing this for attention, Silas, and you shouldn't let her disrespect the pack hierarchy like this just because she’s confused," Nadia whispered, making sure her voice was loud enough for the people nearby to hear.

​Elara didn't acknowledge her at all, and she just kept eating her dinner in silence, ignoring the whispers and the pointed looks from the women across from her, and for a moment, I actually found myself impressed by her restraint. Usually, by this point in a pack dinner, she would have been apologizing for breathing too loudly or trying to fetch me more wine, but she hadn't looked at my glass once since she sat down.

​"So, Elara," one of the older warriors, a man named Marcus who had never liked rogues, said as he leaned across the table with a nasty smirk. "I heard the accident scrambled your brain, but I hope you didn't forget that you still owe this pack for the food on your plate, seeing as rogues usually have to hunt for their own scraps in the dirt."

​The table went quiet, and I waited for the familiar sound of Elara’s chair scraping back as she ran out of the room in tears, or for her to start stuttering an apology to Marcus for being a burden. I opened my mouth to tell Marcus to focus on his meal, but before I could get a word out, Elara set her fork down with a quiet click and looked Marcus directly in the eyes.

​"If the pack is so short on funds that my single meal is a concern for a warrior of your standing, Marcus, then perhaps Silas isn't the Alpha everyone thinks he is," she said, and her voice was so cold and level that it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over the room. "But as for my heritage, I’d rather be a rogue who knows how to survive than a pack member who thinks bravery consists of insulting a pregnant woman at a dinner table."

​Marcus turned a deep shade of red, and he looked at me for support, but I found myself leaning back in my chair and staring at Elara instead. She wasn't finished, and she didn't even look angry, she just looked bored.

​"If you have a problem with my presence here, you should take it up with your Alpha, since he’s the one who insisted I stay, but otherwise, I’d appreciate it if you let me eat in peace because the doctor said stress isn't good for the baby," she added, and then she went right back to her salad like nothing had happened.

​The rest of the dinner was the most awkward hour of my life, and I barely tasted the steak on my plate because I was too busy watching the way Elara moved and spoke.

When the meal finally ended and she stood up to head back to her room, I waited a few minutes before following her, and I caught up to her just as she reached the top of the stairs. I grabbed her arm and turned her around, pinning her between me and the wall, and I looked down at her with a mix of frustration and a strange, pulsing heat in my chest that I didn't recognize.

​"When does the act end, Elara?" I demanded, and I leaned in so close that I could smell the faint scent of rain and soap on her skin, but there was still no trace of the sweet, submissive scent I was used to. "You’ve made your point, and you’ve shown everyone that you can be sharp and mean, so you can stop pretending you don't know who I am now."

​"I'm not pretending, Silas, and I’m starting to think that you’re the one who is struggling with reality," she said, and she didn't even try to push me away, she just stood there and let me loom over her.

​"You are my mate, and you loved me so much it was pathetic, and you would have crawled through glass if I asked you to, so don't tell me that all of that just vanished because you hit a tree," I snapped, and I felt a sudden, sharp pang of fear that she might actually be telling the truth.

​"If we really are fated mates, Silas, then you should be able to feel the bond, shouldn't you?" she asked, and she reached up and placed a hand over my heart, her touch cold and steady. "Look at me and tell me what you feel coming from my side of the link, because from where I’m standing, the woman who used to love you is gone, and she isn't coming back."

​I tried to reach for the bond, expecting to feel that constant, desperate hum of her affection and her need for my approval, but there was nothing but a vast, silent emptiness that made my heart hammer against my ribs.

It was like a part of my own soul had been cut out, and for the first time in my life, I felt completely untethered.

Before I could process it, I felt her hand, her warmth, leave me, walking away and disappearing into her room.

I stayed in the hallway for a long time, gripping the banister until the wood creaked under my hand, while the silence of the bond screamed louder than any words she could have said.