The Sister's Mask

POV: Elara

Before Rhea could even pour the steaming tea, the bedroom door flew open with an aggressive bang.

"Oh, Elara! You’re finally awake!"

Lyra burst into the room like a sudden gust of wind, a bright, dazzling smile plastered across her face. She looked radiant, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders in loose, perfect curls, and her big, clear blue eyes shining with excitement. She was already dressed in a delicate, pastel-blue satin robe, trailing the sweet, expensive scent of French lavender and vanilla behind her.

Two low-ranking omega servants hurried into the room behind her, carefully carrying a garment bag made of expensive white garment silk.

"Look what I brought you, sister," Lyra chirped, her voice a sweet, melodic purr that made my skin crawl. She gestured gracefully to the servants, who zipped open the bag to reveal a traditional, pure white dress. It was simple, high-necked, and entirely unadorned, the exact uniform designed to make a pack female look meek, submissive, and ready to be claimed. "I personally made sure the seamstresses finished it on time. I wanted my dear sister to look perfectly pure and modest when she stands before the Alpha King tonight."

In my past life, I had been so touched by this gesture. I had hugged her, cried, and thanked her for being the only person in the Voss pack house who seemed to care about my happiness.

This time, I just stood there, neither smiling nor crying.

With a cold gaze, I watched her face. The face of the lady who had killed me, who had poisoned me, and for the first time in two lifetimes, the blindfold was off.

It was right there in the tiny, subtle slips of her expression. I noticed the brief, ugly flicker of absolute disdain in her blue eyes as she glanced at my thick, silver-white hair. I caught the faint, satisfied smirk curling the corner of her lips when she looked at the plain, dull design of the white gown, a dress specifically chosen to ensure I wouldn't stand out, a dress meant to keep me looking like the broken, lucky-to-be-here orphan.

"It's...white," I said quietly, my voice entirely flat.

"Of course it is, darling!" Lyra giggled, stepping closer to wrap her delicate hands around my cold fingers. Her grip was tight, a little too tight, her long nails biting slightly into my skin. "White is the tradition for the Voss pack females. It shows submission to the mate bond. You want your fated mate to see how compliant you are, don't you? You wouldn't want to look rebellious."

Before I could answer, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. The air in the bedroom instantly grew dense and cold as Theron Voss, my stepfather and the Beta of the Voss pack, stepped through the doorway.

He was a tall, stern man with graying hair and dark, severe eyes that had never once looked at me with a shred of paternal warmth. He wore his formal Beta uniform, the silver wolf-head pins on his lapels gleaming under the morning sun. The moment he entered, the two omega servants instinctively bowed their heads and backed away into the shadows.

Theron didn't look at Rhea, and he barely glanced at Lyra. His cold, demanding gaze snapped directly onto me, locking onto my face.

"I see you are finally out of bed, Elara," Theron said, his voice a deep, gravelly baritone that carried the absolute authority of his rank. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, looking down at me like an annoying business transaction he was forced to handle. "Listen to me carefully. Tonight is the most important night this territory has seen in a decade. The Royal Crescent Pack is hosting every high-ranking bloodline in the kingdom. The Alpha King himself will be watching."

I kept my hands at my sides, my spine perfectly straight, refusing to bow my head the way I used to.

Theron’s eyes narrowed slightly at my stiff posture, but he continued, his tone dropping into a cold, warning lecture. "The Voss pack cannot afford a single blemish on our reputation tonight. I took you into this house only because your biological father begged me to on his deathbed. I have fed you, clothed you, and kept a roof over your head despite your mother's...questionable background. Do not embarrass me tonight."

"Father, please," Lyra interrupted smoothly, placing a comforting hand on Theron's arm, her big blue eyes filling with fake, angelic concern. "Elara knows how important tonight is. She would never do anything to bring shame to our family. Look, she loves the dress I brought her."

Theron gave the white gown a dismissive glance. "Good. The dress is appropriate. It looks obedient. When your name is called, you will walk up to the altar, you will keep your eyes on the floor, and you will accept whatever mate the Moon Goddess has assigned to you without a single word of complaint. If your mate is a low-ranking enforcer or a delta from a subsidiary pack, you will smile, you will pack your bags, and you will leave this territory by morning. Am I understood?"

In my past life, those words had pierced my heart like daggers. I had nodded meekly, tears stinging my eyes, feeling the crushing weight of my own worthlessness.

This time, I just looked at him. I remembered his face in the courtroom. I remembered how he had stood up and proudly testified against me, calling me a venomous, ungrateful stray who had murdered the Queen Mother.

"I understand completely, Beta Voss," I said, my voice eerily calm.

Theron blinked, a flash of irritation crossing his features at the formal title, but he simply gave a cold grunt. "See that you do. Lyra, come along. The Alpha King's advance guard has arrived at the border, and we must be there to receive them."

"Of course, Father," Lyra purred. She turned back to me, giving me one last sweet, entirely toxic smile. "Get ready, Elara. I just know tonight is going to be unforgettable for you."

They turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them. The suffocating, heavy air of their presence vanished, leaving only the quiet, gentle breeze from the window.

Rhea let out a long, tense breath she had been holding, her shoulders sagging as she looked at me with deep sympathy. "Goodness...he really doesn't change, does he? And Lyra...she means well, Elara, but that dress is so...plain. You have such beautiful hair and eyes, you should be shining tonight."

I didn't answer right away. I walked over to the bed, standing over the white dress Lyra had so carefully selected for me. I reached down, my smooth fingers tracing the soft, delicate fabric.

Submissive?

To the man I had begged to love me? The man I had gone on my knees and wept for while the whole kingdom labeled me a monster?

A dark, sharp smile cut across my lips, my violet-grey eyes gleaming with a terrifying clarity. Like hell I'd do that. I wasn't that girl anymore.

I turned away from the bed, looking past Rhea toward the hallway. I stepped to the door, opened it slightly, and spotted a low-ranking omega servant scrubbing the baseboards a few paces down the corridor.

"You," I called out quietly.

The young girl jumped, quickly dropping her brush and rushing over to my door, her head bowed low in submission. "Yes, Lady Elara? How can I help you?"

I reached into the pocket of my robe, pulling out a leather pouch filled with silver coins; allowance money I had quietly saved and hidden away over the months. I grabbed the girl’s hand, pressing the heavy pouch firmly into her palm. Her eyes widened in utter shock as she felt the weight of the silver.

"Take this. Leave through the eastern servant gates so no one sees you," I commanded, my  eyes locking onto her terrified, obedient face. "Go into the main city market. Find the finest gown boutique in the high district and get me a dress."

The servant swallowed hard, nodding rapidly. "W-what kind of dress, my Lady?"

I slowly smirked.

"A blood red one.”