Chapter 3: The Alpha's Chosen Woman

The first thing I learned about being invisible was that people became careless around you.

They forgot you had ears. They forgot you could understand their words. Most importantly, they forgot that even someone they considered worthless could remember every cruel thing they said.

By the time the sun rose over Blackthorn Pack, I had heard enough conversations to fill a book with reasons why I should leave.

Unfortunately, leaving required somewhere to go.

I stood beside the kitchen counter, arranging a tray of breakfast plates while two visiting pack members whispered near the pantry.

“Have you heard?” one asked. “Alpha Blake is expected to make an announcement before the mating ceremony.”

“About the ceremony?”

“About his chosen woman.”

My fingers paused around a porcelain plate.

His chosen woman.

Everyone in Blackthorn knew Blake and I had been close for years. He had never officially claimed me, but he had never discouraged the rumours either. Whenever someone asked whether he intended to take a mate, he would give that familiar half-smile and say he had not found the right moment.

Sometimes, when we were alone, he would look at me as if he wanted to say something important.

Those moments had kept hope alive in me longer than I cared to admit.

“Who do you think it is?” the second woman asked.

The first gave a knowing laugh. “Who else? Sienna Vale.”

The plate slipped slightly in my hand.

I caught it before it struck the floor.

Sienna.

Of course.

She was everything Blackthorn admired: beautiful, confident, born into a respected family, and blessed with a powerful wolf. When she walked into a room, people noticed. When she spoke, people listened.

I had spent years trying not to compare myself with her.

Apparently, I had been wasting my time.

“Has the Alpha confirmed it?” the second woman asked.

“Not yet. But I saw them together yesterday. He escorted her to the eastern garden himself.”

“That means nothing.”

“It means everything when a man like Blake Mercer does it.”

They laughed and moved away.

I continued arranging the plates, pretending their conversation had not lodged itself beneath my ribs.

Perhaps they were wrong.

Perhaps Blake had only been speaking to Sienna about pack business. Perhaps the announcement had nothing to do with choosing a mate.

Perhaps I was making excuses because the alternative hurt too much to consider.

“Nyla.”

I turned.

Mara stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest.

“You look like someone has just told you the world is ending.”

“I am arranging breakfast.”

“You have arranged the same plate three times.”

I looked down.

She was right.

With a sigh, I set the plate aside.

“Mara, do you think Blake intends to choose Sienna?”

Her expression changed.

It was a small change, but I knew her well enough to notice. Her shoulders stiffened, and she glanced towards the pantry to make sure nobody was listening.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because everyone else seems to know something I don't.”

“Then perhaps you should ask Blake.”

I laughed without humour. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple. Whether you like his answer is another matter.”

I hated how sensible she could be when I wanted her to tell me everything would be fine.

“What if he chooses her?”

Mara stepped closer.

“Then you will hurt. You will cry if you need to. You will be angry. And after all that, you will still be Nyla Graves.”

Her voice softened.

“You are not worth less because someone fails to choose you.”

I stared at her.

For one dangerous moment, I wanted to believe her completely.

Then the kitchen doors opened.

Sienna entered as if the room belonged to her.

She wore a fitted cream dress, her golden-brown hair falling in loose curls over her shoulders. Two young women followed her, both carrying the kind of smiles people wore when they expected to witness something entertaining.

Sienna's gaze travelled over the kitchen before settling on me.

“Nyla. Still working?”

I wiped my hands on my apron. “Someone has to.”

Her companions exchanged glances.

Sienna smiled.

“Of course. I suppose the pack would fall apart without you.”

“Probably not.”

Mara made a small sound beside me that might have been a laugh.

Sienna's smile tightened.

“I came to speak with the kitchen supervisor. Alpha Blake has requested a private breakfast in the eastern dining room.”

“I'll let him know.”

“You won't need to.” She tilted her head. “He asked for me personally.”

The words landed exactly where she intended them to.

I looked at her, searching for some trace of embarrassment, some sign that she understood how deliberately cruel she was being.

There was none.

“Congratulations,” I said.

Her eyebrows rose.

“For what?”

“For being requested personally.”

One of her companions covered a laugh with a cough.

Sienna's cheeks coloured slightly.

“Careful, Nyla. Sarcasm doesn't suit someone in your position.”

“And what position is that?”

“The one you have always occupied.”

She let the words hang between us.

Then she leaned closer, lowering her voice.

“You should stop imagining that the Alpha's kindness means something special. Blake is kind to many people. He simply has a habit of making certain women misunderstand him.”

I felt heat rise into my face.

“You don't know what Blake and I have shared.”

“Perhaps not.” Her smile returned. “But I know what he wants now.”

She straightened and walked towards the dining room, her companions following.

Mara waited until the doors closed before speaking.

“I don't like her.”

“Neither do I.”

“You're doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Pretending something doesn't hurt when I can practically see it bleeding.”

I turned away from her.

“I have work to finish.”

I spent the next hour carrying trays, wiping counters, and delivering food to people who barely acknowledged me.

The physical work should have distracted me.

It didn't.

Every time someone mentioned Blake, my attention sharpened. Every time I heard Sienna's name, my stomach tightened.

By midday, I had convinced myself to stop caring.

By afternoon, I had failed.

I was returning an empty tray from the eastern dining room when I heard Blake's voice beyond the half-open door.

“She doesn't know anything,” he said.

I stopped.

Another voice answered. It belonged to an older man I recognised as Councilman Darius, one of the few people in Blackthorn whose authority extended beyond the Alpha's immediate circle.

“That's precisely what concerns us.”

Blake sounded irritated. “Nyla has nothing to do with this.”

“You cannot be certain of that.”

“I know her.”

A silence followed.

Then Darius spoke again.

“You know the girl she has been allowed to become. That is not necessarily the same as knowing who she is.”

My fingers tightened around the tray.

What did that mean?

Blake lowered his voice. “Watch what you say.”

“Why? Because the walls have ears, or because you are afraid I might be right?”

“I am not afraid.”

“Then you should have no objection to answering one question. Has the pendant ever reacted in your presence?”

My heart stopped.

The pendant.

My hand flew to the silver chain beneath my blouse.

I had worn it since childhood. It was one of the few things my mother had left me, and I had never shown it to many people.

How did Darius know about it?

Blake did not answer immediately.

When he finally spoke, his voice was cold.

“This conversation is over.”

“You cannot protect her from a truth you refuse to understand.”

“I said it is over.”

A chair scraped across the floor.

I hurried away before they could discover me.

I made it around the corner and pressed my back against the wall, breathing too quickly.

The pendant lay cold against my skin.

My mother had given it to me when I was little. I remembered her fingers closing around mine, her face pale with exhaustion.

Keep it safe, Nyla.

Those had been her words.

Not because it was expensive. Not because it was beautiful.

Because it was mine.

I had never understood why she looked frightened whenever I asked about its strange crescent and three circles.

Now an old councilman had asked whether it reacted.

I pulled the pendant from beneath my blouse.

It looked exactly as it always had: silver, worn smooth by years of touching, with the crescent enclosing three tiny circles.

Nothing moved.

Nothing glowed.

Nothing explained why two powerful men were discussing it behind a closed door.

“Nyla?”

I nearly dropped it.

Blake stood at the end of the corridor.

His expression changed when he saw the pendant in my hand.

For one brief moment, he looked genuinely frightened.

Then his face settled into its familiar composure.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was returning a tray.”

His eyes moved from my face to the pendant.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“What name?”

He approached slowly.

“Darius. Did you hear anything he said?”

I swallowed.

“Only that you were discussing something you didn't want anyone to know.”

His jaw tightened.

“Nyla, listen to me carefully. There are conversations that have nothing to do with you.”

“Then why were you discussing my pendant?”

He went still.

I had my answer.

Or at least, I had confirmation that there was an answer he did not want to give me.

“Who told you about the pendant?” he asked.

“You did, just now.”

“Nyla.”

“Don't use that voice with me.”

He stared at me as though he had never expected me to speak to him that way.

Perhaps I had never dared to before.

I lifted my chin.

“You know something about my mother. You know something about this pendant. And whatever it is, you have decided I don't deserve to know.”

“That isn't what this is.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

His gaze dropped briefly to my throat.

“I can't.”

The honesty of those two words hurt more than another lie would have.

“Can't,” I repeated. “Or won't?”

He looked away.

For years, I had imagined what it would feel like if Blake finally chose me openly. I had pictured the pride in his eyes, his hand reaching for mine, his voice telling the pack that I was the woman he wanted.

Standing in that corridor, I realised something far more painful.

I had spent so long hoping to be chosen by him that I had forgotten to ask whether he respected me enough to tell me the truth.

“Is Sienna your chosen woman?” I asked.

His eyes snapped back to mine.

“Who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw.

“The ceremony is close. Things are complicated.”

“That isn't an answer.”

“Not everything is as simple as you think.”

“Then stop treating me as if I'm too foolish to understand.”

For a moment, something like regret crossed his face.

Then it disappeared.

“I have responsibilities to this pack, Nyla. There are decisions I must make for reasons you cannot understand.”

I nodded slowly.

There it was again.

The same excuse, dressed in different words.

He could not tell me the truth because I would not understand it. He could not explain because he had responsibilities. He could not give me an answer because the world was apparently too complicated for someone like me.

“Fine,” I said.

He looked surprised.

“Fine?”

“You have your responsibilities. I have my work.”

I stepped around him.

“Nyla.”

I kept walking.

He did not follow.

I returned to the kitchen, finished my duties, and waited until the packhouse quieted before going to my room.

My little room was tucked behind the storage corridor, far from the bedrooms occupied by the pack's respected families. The window was narrow, the walls plain, and the bed creaked whenever I moved.

It was not much.

But it was the only place in Blackthorn where I could close a door and pretend I belonged to myself.

I sat on the bed and took out the pendant.

For the first time in years, I studied it without thinking about my mother's death or the loneliness that had followed it.

I traced the three circles with my fingertip.

A faint warmth spread beneath my touch.

I jerked my hand back.

The warmth vanished.

I stared at the pendant, my heart beating hard.

Then I tried again.

Nothing.

I pressed the symbol between my fingers and closed my eyes, remembering my mother's face.

The warmth returned.

This time, it was stronger.

A strange pressure gathered behind my ribs, not quite pain and not quite fear. It felt like standing near a door that had been locked for years and suddenly hearing something move on the other side.

I opened my eyes.

The pendant had not changed.

But somewhere deep inside me, something had noticed that I was listening.

I did not know what it was.

I did not know why Blake was afraid of it.

I did not even know whether I wanted the answers.

Yet as I lay awake that night, one thought refused to leave me.

Perhaps the secret of my life was not that I had been born without a wolf.

Perhaps the real secret was why everyone seemed so determined to keep me that way.