THE ALPHA'S SHADOW

CHAPTER 5

                                   Occupying the Space Between

POV: Elara

I spent most of my time looking at structural load bearings for a skyscraper in Dubai. This was the project that would fund my entire ‘disappearance’, or maybe let’s call it ‘death’.

The journey back from the border was silent, the same for the rhythmic clicking of my turn signal as we pulled over into the Crescent Estate.

My heart didn't flutter with the usual relief of coming home. It sank in, especially after seeing a stranger's car parked crookedly near the fountain. It was Ivy’s.

I walked through the front doors, my heels clicking like a warning on the marble. I was headed for the kitchen to check on dinner, but on second thought, I headed for the sunroom. I heard the bright, melodic sound of Arlo’s laughter.

I froze in the doorway.

Ivy was sitting in my armchair, the one by the window where I spent my mornings sketching. Then my eyes caught something quite surprising. my silk scarf, tied around her wrist like a trophy. As if that wasn’t enough, she was showing Arlo how to sharpen a hunting knife.

"Careful, little Alpha," Ivy purred, her eyes glinting with a feral satisfaction. "A dull blade is a coward’s weapon. Your mother wouldn't understand, but you need to know how to draw blood."

Arlo looked up, his face flushed with excitement. He hadn’t seen me yet.

[Arlo’s Voice]: Ivy is so much cooler. She doesn't tell me to be careful or wash my hands. She talks to me like I’m already a wolf. I wish the house always felt this... alive.

The "Voice" felt like a physical blow to my solar plexus. I leaned against the doorframe, my lungs hitching as a familiar, metallic heat rose in my throat. I swallowed it down. Not yet.

"The scarf is a nice touch, Ivy," I said, my voice cutting through the warmth of the room like a shard of ice. "Though I usually prefer it around my neck, not as a bandage around your lack of personality."

Ivy jumped, her silver-white hair whipping around. Arlo’s smile vanished, replaced by that guarded, defensive look he always gave me lately.

"Elara!" Ivy recovered quickly, leaning back in my chair. "We were just waiting for you. Roman said you were... 'out.' He seemed concerned you’d forgotten the pack dinner tonight."

[Ivy’s Voice]: Look at her. That suit makes her look like a funeral director. She’s already mourning her own marriage, and she doesn't even know it.

"I didn't forget," I said, stepping into the room. I walked straight to Ivy, reaching down and snatching my silk scarf from her wrist with a sharp tug. "I just didn't realize we’d started inviting the help to sit in the family quarters before the sun went down."

"Mom!" Arlo stood up, his small chest heaving. "Don't be mean to Ivy. She was helping me!"

I looked at my son, the boy I had spent years protecting from the pack's harsh realities.

[Arlo’s Voice]: Why is she always so bitter? No wonder Father doesn't want to be in the same room as her. She’s like a dark cloud.

"Go to your room, Arlo," I said quietly.

"But..."

"Now."

He stomped past me, his shoulder glancing against my hip. It was a deliberate "bump," a wolf’s way of showing disrespect. He didn't care that I winced as the impact rattled my fragile ribs.

Once he was gone, Ivy stood up, her height giving her an advantage she loved to use. "You’re losing them, Elara. The pack, the boy... the Alpha. You’re a human in a wolf’s den. Eventually, the den gets cleaned out."

"You're right, Ivy," I whispered, leaning in so close that she could smell the expensive, human perfume I wore to mask the scent of my medication. "But when a house is cleaned, the trash always goes out first."

I turned and walked toward the stairs, leaving her fuming in the sunlight. But as I reached the landing, I saw Roman standing in the shadows of the hallway. He had heard everything.

[Roman’s Voice]: She’s vicious today. Sharp. I should be angry... but why can't I stop looking at the way that suit fits her?

. Since when did my 'fragile' wife have a spine made of steel?

I didn't give him the satisfaction of an explanation. I walked right past him, my head held high, even as a fresh drop of blood escaped my lip and stained my white collar.