THEIR REJECTED DAUGHTER WAS THE LOST HEIRESS

POV: ARIA 

The iron-reinforced oak door of Sector 4 did not creak; it groaned under two years of built-up frost.

I didn't look back. I kept my head bowed, my cracked boots shuffling across the gravel path toward the outer perimeter gate of the Coldspire Labor Prison. Beneath the coarse, faded tunic provided by the guards, my ribs throbbed where three cell-block omegas had cornered me against the washbasin less than two hours ago. They had wanted the silver-leaf ring hidden in my palm, a worthless trinket I had scraped out of the prison quarry, and when I refused to speak, they used their fists.

I hadn't screamed. I hadn't called my wolf.

I couldn't. Deep inside my chest, where a furious, golden-furred spirit had once howled at the full moon, there was only silence. Cold, hollow silence. My wolf had gone quiet during the second month of the beatings I received in this prison, suffocated by the silver-laced iron chains and the sheer, overwhelming realization that no one was coming for me.

"Inmate 409," the gatekeeper barked, slapping a thick leather-bound log onto the stone counter. "Sign. You’re discharged by order of the Frostwood Alpha Council."

I took the rusted quill, my knuckles blue from the mountain chill, and signed my name in neat, faint script. I didn't ask why my sentence had been cut short by three months. I didn't ask who had paid the release tax. In prison, asking questions usually earned you an extra night in the dark box.

Beyond the heavy iron gates, a sleek black SUV sat idling in the gray morning mist, its exhaust pluming like smoke.

The rear door clicked open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out into the mud. He wore a tailored charcoal wool coat over a crisp suit, his dark hair cut sharp, his posture carrying the unmistakable authority of a future leader.

It was Gavin, my adoptive brother.

I paused at the threshold of the gate, my body freezing instinctively. Two years ago, those broad shoulders had been my refuge. Gavin had been the older brother who taught me how to track prey through the northern woods, who carried me on his back when I scraped my knees as a child, who promised me that no matter what happened, I would always be his little sister.

And then Lyra had returned. And then the Wolf-Bane had ended up in Elena's evening tea.

Gavin took three rapid steps toward me, his face a storm of conflicting emotions, relief, impatience, and an underlying tension that tightened his jaw. He reached out his hands, clearly expecting me to drop my small canvas bag, burst into tears, throw myself into his arms, and sob out all the bitterness I had been storing for twenty-four months.

"Aria," he breathed, his voice rich with familiar command, though edge-softened with affection. "You're finally out. Gods, look at you... you're so thin."

I took a step backward, lowering my eyes to his leather shoes. I pulled my arms tight against my chest, bowing my head in a flawless, low-ranking pack salute.

"Thank you for facilitating my release, Alpha."

Gavin stopped dead in his tracks. His hands hovered in the icy air between us, his fingers twitching slightly. He stared at me, his brow furrowing in deep confusion and sudden irritation.

"Don’t call me that!" Gavin snapped, his voice sharp with disbelief. "You used to call me Gavin. Why Alpha? You’re acting weird."

"I am not playing, Alpha," I replied, keeping my tone completely flat, stripped of any pitch or warmth. "I am acknowledging my superior."

Gavin let out a short, frustrated sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he convinced himself of his own narrative: She’s resentful. She’s throwing a dramatic tantrum because we couldn't visit.

"Get in the car," he said, turning back toward the SUV and popping the trunk. "It’s a three-hour drive back to the Frostwood Pack estate. You can vent on the way."

I didn't argue. I placed my small canvas bag into the immaculate carpeted trunk and climbed into the front passenger seat. The leather was warm, heated from below, but the heat made me nauseous. For two years, warmth had meant heavy wool and sweat-stained labor in the mines.

Gavin climbed into the driver's seat, shifting the vehicle into drive. The SUV glided smoothly onto the paved mountain highway, leaving the gray silhouette of Coldspire prison behind in the rear-view mirror.

For the first twenty minutes, the silence inside the cabin was suffocating. Gavin kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, taking in my tangled, dull hair, my cracked lips, and the oversized prison coat that swallowed my thin body.

"Mother is waiting," Gavin said, breaking the silence, his tone was lighter now, as if trying to force our old dynamic back into existence. "Her health has been fragile lately, but she’s stable. She’s looking forward to seeing that you’re home safely."

I looked out the tinted window at the passing pine trees. Mother. The last time I had seen Elena, she was pale in a hospital bed, weeping as Gavin convinced me that taking the blame for the illegal Wolf-Bane vial was the only way to save the family from public ruin.

“Just say you mixed up the herbs in the garden, Aria,” Gavin had whispered in my ear back then. “They won't harm you. You're our daughter. I’ll make sure you get a light probation there.”

Instead, the Pack Council had declared it high treason against an Alpha's mate and thrown me into the labor camp.

"And Lyra?" I asked softly, keeping my voice entirely neutral.

Gavin’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening slightly. He cleared his throat. "Lyra has been working very hard. She felt terribly guilty about everything, Aria. She wanted to come pick you up today, but we have extremely important guests arriving at the pack house tonight. The Lycan King’s delegation is visiting from the Solstice Kingdom. He paused, his fingers tightened around the steering wheel "There have been rumors about why the delegation is traveling through the northern packs," he said .

I turned my eyes from the window.

"What rumors?"

Gavin glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to the road.

"The Lycan King has been searching for his missing sister for years. She disappeared when she was young, and people believe she may still be alive."

I stared at him for a moment.

"And they think she's here?"

"Not exactly," Gavin said.

"They're investigating several packs and territories. That's all I know” 

I stared at him for a moment. Then I looked back through the window.

"I see."

He paused, glancing at me with a stern, warning look. "I need you to promise me something, Aria. Tonight is critical for the pack’s political future, and for Lyra’s future. Lord Rowan is part of the delegation, and Father is hoping to secure a formal match between him and Lyra. I know you’re holding onto resentment, but you cannot cause a scene tonight. Do not make things difficult for your sister."

I almost felt a ghost of a smile touch my cracked lips, though nothing showed on my face. Do not make things difficult for Lyra.

Nothing had changed. Even after two years of me eating stale bread in a frozen cell so Lyra could wear silk dresses in the pack mansion, Gavin’s first priority was still protecting Lyra’s delicate feelings.

"I understand, Alpha," I said calmly. "I will stay out of the way."

"Stop calling me that!" Gavin snapped, his patience finally snapping. He reached out with his right hand, intending to grab my shoulder to shake some sense into me, to force me to drop this cold, distant wall. "Aria, look at me…"

The moment his hand cut through the air toward me, my body reacted before my mind could process it.

I flinched violently, ducking my head down into my knees, curling my spine into a tight, defensive ball. I wrapped both hands over the back of my neck, squeezing my eyes shut, my breathing suddenly spiking into harsh, ragged gasps.

"Don't… please… I'm sorry…" I whispered instinctively, my voice trembling with conditioned terror.

Gavin’s leg slammed onto the brakes. The heavy SUV skidded slightly before coming to a complete stop on the shoulder of the empty highway.

He stared at me. I was curled into the footwell, trembling uncontrollably, my hands locked over my head in a posture designed purely to protect my skull and neck from incoming blows. The sleeve of my coarse tunic slipped down slightly, revealing a cluster of dark, yellow-green bruises and jagged silver-scarring along my forearm.

I could hear his chest seizing, his breath trapped in his throat.

He had expected me to yell at him, to slap his hand away, to cry, or to demand an apology. He had prepared himself for my anger.

He had not prepared for me to cower from him like a beaten dog.

"Aria..." Gavin’s voice cracked, all his command dissolving into a sudden, icy knot of dread. "Aria, what... who did that to you?"

I slowly opened my eyes, realizing I was still in the car, not in the guard quarters at Sector 4. I forced my chest to slow its pounding, pulling my arms back into my lap and uncurling myself with agonizing slowness. I pulled my sleeve down to cover my arm, setting my face back into that eerie, blank mask.

"It is nothing, Alpha," I said softly, staring straight ahead at the long, dark road leading home. "I am fine."

Gavin sat frozen behind the wheel, staring at me in horror as the first tiny crack splintered through his quiet certainty.