Two

Snow

His hand tightened around my throat, "Say one more word, Elara—just one—and I'll snap your head off." I heard the faint crack as he leaned in. He rarely used that strength, but when he did, it never boded well.

My anger and my pain knew no bounds.

Rose's name always did that — it dragged every memory of that night back into me like a tide.

"You're ridiculous." I spat, not caring about his warning. "You think I'm scared of death? I've watched everyone I love die—Rosie, Luna Tracy, my parents—or you lot. You think my life means anything after that?" You breathe, but you're dead to me. The only reason I'm alive is to get Rosie justice, and I will—no matter what—"

His grip tightened until my voice cracked. I kept going.

The door slammed open and Lucas walked in, blue shirt, pristine white pants; his eyes snapped from Micheal's hand to my face. Micheal preferred black; Lucas favored white — both made me ache in different ways, neither brought hope.

"What's going on here?" Lucas demanded, jaw clenched.

"She ran her mouth again, Luke," Micheal ground out. "It's time we killed her."

Micheal seethed; his eyes darkened from blue to black, veins bulging like they might burst.

"Drop it, Micheal — that's not the plan." Lucas's fists were tight. "Let her go before she's dead."

"You have no idea what she—"

"I do. She's told the same damn story for ten years," Lucas cut in, crossing his arms. "It's nothing new. Let her go."

"If you think father killed our Rosie..." Micheal spat, "why don't you bring proof? We have proof you killed her. Unless you bring proof, shut your filthy mouth, you wretched monster" He shoved me; I hit the floor coughing for air.

Black spots danced at the edge of my vision, but I refused to stop. They could kill me — but I wanted them to hear the truth.

"What proof do you have?" I gasped. "The blood on my clothes when we both lay there unconscious? The assumption a girl who hadn't shifted yet couldn't heal? If I'd truly done it — why were there claw marks? Why only one dagger wound and why was the dagger in my hand while I was out?"

Micheal stilled. Lucas's expression faltered—just for a heartbeat.

They were fools — blind to facts, blinded by their father's command. They'd never bothered to investigate anything I'd said.

"What? Cat got your tongue, Alpha?" I asked with a bitter chuckle.

"So you want me to believe your story — that our grieving father murdered the daughter he loved?" Lucas scoffed, jaw tight, eyes cold. "For what gain? Why would he kill his own daughter?"

That question cut deep. The reason? Buried even from myself.

Just after ten days of the Luna's death, Alpha Robert watched his daughter being killed and didn't even dare to interrupt. What could be there? What secret that made him do this?

And what could Rosie know that got her killed? And why did she call me to the backyard that night? What did she want to tell me? What was she so....afraid of?

"That's what I want to know," I said low, tears hot in my eyes. "And I will find out—"

"Then bring proof," Lucas barked, stepping between me and Micheal. His shout made me flinch and my tears spill. "Until then, keep your filthy mouth shut. Got it?!"

"The same old bullshit," Micheal snarled. "We should kill her and end this nuisance—"

"You woke me up... for this?"

The voice in the doorway was rough, lazy—and dripping with disdain.

My eyes followed only to find  Alex on the doorway.

He stood shirtless in the frame, hair a mess, bite marks on his chest — the scent of last night clinging to him. He reeked of beer and women.

Strangely, his arrival brought a flicker of hope. Not because he was kinder — but because he did things quick. He ended things quick. Maybe that made him mercy in my eyes. It didn't change the truth: all three of them were monsters.

"She's ruining my morning and you're worried about being woken?" Micheal snapped, lunging, but Lucas grabbed his arm.

"Micheal. Calm the fuck down!" Lucas snapped.

"How did she ruin your morning when I'm the one being dragged out of bed because of all this drama?" Alex's voice was rough, lazy with irritation. His eyes flicked to me, dragging over my body before he slid his hands into the pockets of his low-hanging trousers and stepped inside. "Couldn't you two, as my older brothers, tone it down a bit? I had a rough night."

He reached for a juice glass from the trolley — of course, it was his — and took a slow sip. "So, what's the matter?"

Lucas's jaw flexed. Just looking at me seemed to drain what little patience he had left. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "She started with the same bullshit."

"Bullshit?" Alex lifted an eyebrow, then looked at me. "You mean... she started with herself?"

"Alex—" Micheal began, but Alex chuckled, cutting him off.

"Relax, brother. I know her. And trust me, I'm not on her side." He grinned, though his voice carried nothing but boredom. "Let me guess: the same old speech? 'I didn't kill Rosie, she was my best friend. It was Alpha Robert who did it. You're all pathetic for not believing me. I'll never forgive you when the truth comes out.'"

He laughed softly, shaking his head, then looked at me again. His eyes didn't darken like Lucas's or Micheal's — maybe he hated me a little less. Pathetic as it was, that flicker of difference felt like comfort I didn't want.

"Could you be any more pathetic, Snow?" he sighed.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. I'd said the truth a thousand times, and none of them believed me. What else could I do? The ten-year-old me hadn't been able to do anything back then, and the twenty-year-old me was no different now. Still useless. Still hopeless.

"I said what's true," my voice shook. "Whatever you mocked just now — it's all true. You just refuse to see it. And I'll keep saying it until the day—"

"You die?" Alex interrupted, grabbing a sandwich and taking a slow bite. "Oh, no. None of us will let you die that easy."

He stepped closer, leaning down until his breath ghosted against my ear. "You'll live, Snowflake. Long. Miserable. Pathetic. Until you beg for death and I still won't give it." His lips brushed my ear as he whispered the last word, then he pulled away, voice flat and cold. "Now leave, before I change my mind."

His order was final.

Unlike Lucas or Micheal, Alex never yelled. He didn't need to. There was something terrifying in his calm — a quiet cruelty that said if he wanted me dead, he'd make it quick, and he'd never regret it.

So I didn't argue. I wiped my tears, swallowed my sobs, and walked out of the room.

By the time I reached the lift, I was running — the tears streaming freely now.

They would never believe me. But one day, they'd see.