C7

"You know Mirelle?"

Elka gave her an equally confused look in return. "Yes, of course. We met at your bonding ritual. And then at your mating feast."

Right.

"I didn’t realize you kept in contact with her." The words sounded cold. Stilted. Genesis winced inwardly, hating how she sounded so distant, like a cold outsider in her own brother's home. But she never knew how to relate to Elka. Or Mirelle, for that matter.

"We exchange occasional messages," Elka said, her soft grey eyes clouding with a wariness that hadn’t been there before, like she was treading across a active border territory. "That’s okay with you, right?"

A bit too late to ask now, isn’t it? Genesis thought bitterly, then instantly felt small and petty.

"Of course it is fine." She strove for casual, but her voice carried a sharp edge. "I just didn’t know you two had exchanged pack crests and become close."

"Close is stretching it. We’ve only met those two times," Elka said, keeping her posture guarded. "But I like her. She is a fine female."

"Yes. She is."

Of course her sisters-in-law clicked effortlessly. Of course they formed bonds while Genesis remained isolated, barely able to manage polite exchange with either of them. Once again, the cold weight of her own solitude pressed against her chest.

Elka hovered for a moment, looking eager to escape the suffocating air between them.

"Are you alright, Gen? Do you need anything? More blood-wine?"

Genesis dropped her gaze to her barely touched goblet and shook her head. She hated how Elka treated her with such formal caution. The female was warm and boisterous with everyone else, happily order-barking at the Wrenmoor warriors with easy affection. Around Genesis, she walked on eggshells.

Bryony, who had been brought into the pack only weeks ago, had been tossed a flask of elderberry juice earlier with a breezy smile and told to help herself.

"I am fine, thank you," Genesis muttered, feeling the awkwardness settle heavy in her bones. "Don't concern yourself with me."

Elka hesitated, then gave a quick nod.

"I just have to check on the... the roast."

"Go ahead," Genesis said, waving a hand toward the hearth to break the strain. "Don't let me hold you. I wanted to speak with Father anyway."

It was a complete lie. Aldren would interrogate her about Draven's absence far more ruthlessly than Thayer had, and he wouldn't accept any smooth evasions.

Elka’s face flooded with relief, a quick smile flashing before she spoke. "Alright then, I will just go see to the—"

Her voice caught, a small stutter catching in her throat, a habit that only surfaced when she was deeply anxious. Genesis noticed it, wondering not for the first time why her presence made her brother's mate so visibly uneasy.

Elka offered a tight smile before turning and retreating toward the roasting pits, leaving Genesis standing alone in the middle of the crowded hall.

She drained her goblet in one long pull, letting the bitter vintage burn down her throat, before stepping out onto the stone terrace to find a pocket of silence.

The chilly air hit her skin instantly. Her father sat at the massive oak table, locked in a low, intense debate with Ronan about border patrols and clan territories. A few younger pack members reclined on the carved benches nearby, arguing loudly over hunting tactics.

Looking for escape, Genesis spotted a quiet bench shaded by a trellis of dormant winter vines. She walked past the stone fountain in the center of the courtyard and sat down, pulling her fur mantle tight around her shoulders.

She was staring blankly into the empty goblet when a shadow fell across her feet.

She looked up to meet Bryony's shy, hesitant smile.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Bryony asked, gesturing to the open space on the bench.

Genesis wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Yet, after feeling so utterly cut off from everyone inside, a strange wave of gratitude washed over her.

"Of course not," Genesis said, offering a polite smile.

Bryony lowered her heavy, pregnant frame onto the wooden bench with a small, relieved sigh. They sat in silence for a few long moments, Bryony taking small sips from her carved horn cup while Genesis twirled the stem of her goblet.

"Are you alright, Gen?" Bryony asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"I am fine," Genesis replied automatically.

Bryony turned her head, her silver-grey eyes searching Genesis's face. "You looked pained when you were speaking with Elka earlier. Hurt."

The observation hit like a quick slap, and Genesis reflexively touched her cheek, as if the raw emotion were visible on her skin.

"I was just..." Genesis trailed off, unable to form the words without exposing her weakness.

She fell silent, hating how cold she must seem, expecting Bryony to get uncomfortable and walk away like everyone else did.

Minutes passed, but Bryony stayed right beside her in the quiet cold.

"My whole life," Bryony said softly, her voice carrying a sudden, raw weight, "I felt like an outcast. It is a lonely thing, watching everyone else belong while you stand on the outside. Even this..." She gestured toward the roaring hall behind them. "My mating with Ronan... it started as an arrangement, not something truly mine."

She paused, meeting Genesis's startled gaze directly.

"When you spend your life feeling like an outsider, you recognize the scent of loneliness in others. I know we barely know each other, and maybe I am crossing a line, but I am here if you need to speak."

The words pierced through Genesis's carefully constructed armor. No one had ever named her loneliness so directly. She hadn't even let herself name it.

Her throat tightened painfully, and her eyes burned with heat she fiercely fought to suppress.

She opened her mouth to give her standard response—that she was merely exhausted from her duties at the healing den, that everything was perfect.

Instead, a broken whisper escaped her lips. "Draven left me."

A single tear slipped free, scalding her cold skin, and Genesis wiped it away with a violent jerk of her shoulder.

"Oh, Gen," Bryony breathed, her eyes filling with genuine sorrow. "I am so sorry."

"I know he seemed distant when you saw him," Genesis said quickly, her voice raw and unstable. "But he is a honorable Alpha. He is a good male."

"I am sure he is," Bryony said gently, though a trace of doubt lingered in her tone.

"He is," Genesis insisted, her chest aching. "I sound like a female making excuses for a mate who walked out, but it was my fault. I made it impossible for him to get close to me. I couldn't... I didn't know how to talk to him."

She snapped her jaw shut, humiliation flushing her cheeks at the messy truth spilling out of her.

"I shouldn't have said any of that," she whispered, pulling her furs tighter.

"Why not?" Bryony asked, her voice completely free of judgment.

"You have enough weight to carry with your pregnancy and Ronan's bloodline troubles," Genesis said, forcing her walls back up. "My problems are my own making. I can handle them."

"You can, but you shouldn't have to alone," Bryony said softly. "Caedric and Ronan would tear down the dominion for you if they knew you were bleeding inside."

Genesis swallowed hard, looking toward the heavy hall doors where the low hum of pack voices echoed into the night. "They would only declare war on Hollowmere Heights. And that won't bring my mate back."

Bryony reached out, placing a gentle hand over Genesis's cold knuckles. "Then what are you going to do when he files the final rejection before the High Council?"

Genesis turned her head, her wolf stirring with a sudden, dangerous spark of dark resolve. "I am going to make sure he pays for every drop of blood I lose."