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第3章

Penulis: Dimple M
The moment I answered the phone, my mother Isolde's icy voice barked the order,

"You have to come home for Thanksgiving."

I stared at the thick textbook in front of me, Game Theory and Strategic Analysis, and replied, "I'm preparing for my final project. I don't have time."

Her tone leaving no room for argument, she said,

"You'll make time. The defensive fence on the estate perimeter has a few breaches. You can fix them when you get back."

I laughed, a bitter, angry sound, and said,

"Fix the fence? Isn't that the patrol's job?"

Isolde's voice rose,

"They're busy! Aria has the Alpha League Tournament next month. The entire pack is helping her prepare for the opening ceremony. The pack warriors are all on extended patrol. You're her sister. What's the big deal about fixing a fence?"

I hung up.

Just ended the call and threw the phone to the end of my bed.

I spent six of the seven days of Thanksgiving break in the Columbia library.

On the last day, my roommate Maya dragged me out.

We spent the day exploring Manhattan.

In Times Square, Maya took a picture of us laughing with hot dogs and posted it to my Instagram.

Within half an hour, the likes started rolling in.

A like from Maya.

Likes from a few new human classmates.

Not a single one from an account with the Stonecrest family prefix.

My family still acted like I didn't exist.

At the end of November, the family channel exploded again.

【FIRST PLACE IN THE QUARTERLY ASSESSMENT! ARIA HAS SHATTERED THE ACADEMY'S FRESHMAN RECORD!】

Mom spammed a dozen fireworks emojis.

My father, Alistair, followed up with a long, editorial-like post:

"This is the true power of the Alpha bloodline. This is the supreme glory of the Stonecrest pack's future. Aria has not disappointed me."

I scrolled past it all, my face a mask, and turned on Do Not Disturb.

At eleven that night, a private message popped up.

Aria:

【Cassian, how have you been?】

I stared at the greeting, two months too late, and typed back two cold words:

【Still alive.】

Aria:

【...so, are you coming back for the Winter Solstice festival? I wanted to ask you about some tactical stuff in person.】

Tactics. Always tactics.

I didn't reply. I just flipped my phone face down on the desk.

The first weekend of December. The Royal Wolf Academy's Alpha League Tournament.

It was a huge event for werewolves across North America. The whole Stonecrest pack was watching on a private live stream.

I clicked the link.

In the arena, Aria stood in pure white, custom combat leathers. She looked like a flawless goddess of war.

But her opponent, a mixed-blood wolf from a wild western pack, was small, lean, and incredibly cunning.

Three minutes in, Aria was already losing.

Her brute-force attacks, the ones she was so proud of, were easily dodged and countered.

Worse, the other wolf's claws kept slipping past her defenses.

Aria was stumbling back, her footwork a complete mess.

Her vaunted Alpha dominance was a joke against real skill.

Beeeep—The referee’s whistle blew.

Mid-match break. Only five minutes.

The stream cut to an academy commercial.

Just then, my phone began to vibrate violently.

The caller ID read: Encrypted Call - Aria.

I answered.

Aria's ragged, panicked breaths came through the speaker,

"Cassian! You're watching, right?! This guy's moves are insane! Every time I lunge left, he gets into my blind spot! What do I do? Where are his openings?!"

The words tumbled out, a fast, entitled demand for an answer.

Just like she’d been doing for eighteen years.

My hand holding the phone froze mid-air.

The noise of the backstage area came through the speaker, but it couldn't pierce the silence in my room.

My entire life, I had explained pack laws for her, created battle strategies for her, blocked lethal beasts for her.

I thought it was family helping family.

I was wrong.

Her "reliance" on me wasn't sisterly affection.

She was just using my tactical mind to fill the hollow shell of her "perfect prodigy" persona.

Without me, she couldn't even win a real fight.

I was just her secret weapon, the ghostwriter behind her glory, meant to be used and thrown away.

Aria's voice was now a sharp, panicked whine, carrying a hint of a command,

"Cassian? Say something! I'm back on in one minute!"

I took a deep breath. The air in my lungs felt like ice.

My voice was completely flat, devoid of any warmth, as I spoke into the phone,

"Aren't you the once-in-a-generation prodigy?"

She stammered,

"What does that mean? Cassian! Mom and Dad are watching..."

I replied coldly,

"Figure it out yourself."

Click. I hung up.

And I deleted her number from my world.

Three minutes later, the live stream came back on.

Without my coaching, Aria was like a headless chicken.

In less than ten exchanges, her opponent feinted, slipped past her guard, and threw her out of the ring.

A humiliating defeat.

The live chat, which had been spammed with praise, fell utterly silent.

I snapped my laptop shut.

My heart was pounding. A mix of tearing, vindictive pleasure and deep humiliation flooded me.

Maya came up behind me, handed me a glass, and said,

"What's wrong now? You look awful."

It was filled with amber liquid. Strong liquor.

I took the glass and downed it in one go.

The burn seared a path from my throat to my stomach, forcing my eyes to water.

I slammed the empty glass on the table, turned to Maya, and said,

"It's nothing. I just decided. I'm not going home for the Winter Solstice festival, either."
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