CHAPTER 4:THE PHOTO

CHAPTER 4:THE PHOTO

Kayla's POV 

The words left by those two women down in the common hall stayed with me for the rest of the day, heavy and sharp like small knives buried in my spine.

A cold machine.

Is that really what they saw when they looked at me? They didn't see a girl who was missing her father. They didn't see an Alpha’s daughter trying her absolute best to keep a stranger's pack from falling apart while her own heart broke in silence every single hour. To them, I was just an uninvited guest occupying space that belonged to a ghost.

I spent the rest of the afternoon working in silence, but by nightfall, the air inside the estate felt too thick to breathe. I couldn't stay in that office any longer, and I certainly didn't want to go back up to that massive, freezing bedroom where Lucian would likely avoid me again.

I needed to walk.

I pulled a thick wool cloak over my shoulders, stepping out into the cool evening air. The moon was high in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestone paths surrounding the main house. I walked along the perimeter wall, where the pack guards stood watch during their night shifts.

Back in my home territory, I used to walk the perimeter lines every night with my father. He always said an Alpha family should know the faces of the warriors who bled for them on the borders. So, out of habit, I kept my steps light and moved toward the guard station near the eastern gate.

The night was quiet. A light fog was rolling in from the forest, clinging to the tall pine trees. As I approached the stone guard house, I heard voices coming from inside. The heavy wooden door was cracked open just an inch or two to let the smoke from their small stove escape.

"Did you see her today down near the grain stores?" a man's voice asked, his tone dry and unimpressed.

I stopped in my tracks, my boots freezing against the gravel path.

"Yeah, I saw her," a second warrior replied with a heavy sigh. "She moves around like she owns the place already. Checking ledgers, re-counting rations... like we're all a bunch of thieves who don't know how to run our own pack."

"She’s an Alpha’s daughter, what do you expect?" the first man scoffed. "Her father was strict. But damn, she’s so stiff. When Hazel was here, she’d bring hot cider to the guard posts at midnight. She knew every warrior's name and always had a smile for everyone. This new Luna doesn't even look you in the eye."

"That's because she knows she doesn't belong here," a third voice joined in softly. "Alpha Lucian hasn't even touched her. Word from the house staff is he spent last night out near the ridge, howling for Hazel, and left the girl alone in the master suite."

"Can't blame him," the first guard chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. "Hazel had that soft, gentle light to her. She made this pack feel like a home. Kayla just feels like a manager sent to audit the books."

Every single word hit my chest with a dull, heavy thud.

My throat tightened so fast it felt like someone had wrapped a tight cord around it. My instinct—the fierce, proud Alpha blood running through my veins—screamed at me to kick that door wide open. I wanted to march inside, look those warriors in the eye, and remind them that while Hazel was giving out smiles, I was currently fixing two years of financial rot that would have left their families starving by mid-winter.

‘Are you going to stand there and watch them insult us?’Nyx growled, anger laced in her voice. I could feel her wrath, I knew if I was going to let her take control, those men would be dead meats.

‘I’m also not happy Nyx but -’I hesitated.

My father’s voice echoed in my head, soft and steady

‘Remember what father used to say,“A true leader doesn't fight for respect with anger, Kayla. Anger just shows them where you're hurt.”.Nyx rubbled out a series of curses.

‘They don't deserve us Kayla, you know it.’ she said finally before cutting off the link.

I let my arm drop slowly back to my side. My chest burned with a dull, aching pain, but I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my chin high. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing I was listening. I wouldn't let them see the new Luna losing her temper over cheap gossip.

I turned on my heel and walked away in absolute silence, my leather boots making no sound against the damp earth.

I walked back toward the main house, but I couldn't go back to the office, and I couldn't face the empty bedroom. My feet carried me down a quiet, lesser-used hallway toward the west wing—toward Lucian’s private study.

I knew he wasn't inside. I had seen him leave twenty minutes earlier with Cole to inspect the northern perimeter fences.

The heavy oak door to his study was unlocked. I slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind me.

The study smelled strongly of him,rich cedar, leather, and smoke. The fireplace had died down to a bed of glowing red embers, throwing long, warm shadows across the room. High bookshelves lined the walls, filled with old history books and territory maps.

I stood in front of his grand mahogany desk.

I didn't really know what I was looking for. Maybe I wanted to find some piece of paper, some plan, or some personal note that showed he had even a sliver of respect for me as his wife.

I walked around to his side of the desk. My hand reached out, hovering over the brass handles of his drawers.

I pulled open the top drawer. It contained maps, official seals, and wax stamps. Nothing unusual.

I opened the second drawer. More files. Then, my eyes fell on the bottom right drawer. Unlike the others, it wasn't fully closed. It was left open just half an inch, as if someone had closed it in a hurry and failed to push it all the way shut. I hesitated for a second, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Slowly, I reached down and pulled the drawer out.

Inside, sitting on top of a stack of old leather-bound journals, was a small silver picture frame. It was laid face-down, as if hidden from casual view.

My fingers trembled as I reached into the drawer and picked up the heavy frame. I turned it over toward the warm light of the dying fireplace.

My breath caught in my throat.

The photo was taken on a bright, sunny afternoon in a field of tall green grass. A younger Lucian was standing in the center of the frame, his arms wrapped tightly around a beautiful woman with soft, flowing brown hair and big, gentle green eyes.

Lucian wasn't wearing his cold, empty expression. He was smiling—a genuine, radiant smile that reached all the way to his eyes, a smile I had never seen on his face before.

His eyes were closed, his lips pressed deeply and passionately against hers, pulling her body flush against his chest as if he never intended to let her go.

And on the back of the frame, written in dark, elegant ink, were four simple words:

My heart, forever. Hazel.