Chapter 4

That night, Victor deliberately took Clara into the war room right in front of me, a room no one but I was ever allowed to enter.​

I was busy on my phone, scrolling through the latest hunting gear, and paid them no mind.

I don't know when he became so fond of these little digs.​

He'd praise Clara's roasted meat as being better than mine.​

Praise her for cleaning the pack house better than I did.​

Praise her for organizing his strategic maps more clearly than I ever had.​

I rolled my eyes. Praise her all you want, but did he really have to put me down every single time?​

When I showed no reaction, the pressure in the room dropped. I was baffled and wanted even less to be in the same space as him.​

"Momma, Clara gave me this fragrant pouch. Can I smell it?"​

Rio, who had been much quieter lately, held up a beautifully wrapped sachet.​

I didn't even look up. "If you want to smell it, smell it."​

"But… it's Moonpetal."​

"So what?"​

Suddenly, Rio burst into tears.​

"Momma, don't be like this, Don't ignore me!" I'm allergic to Moonpetal, you never let me smell them before!

"I know I was wrong! You were always looking out for me, so please don't ignore me! I'll be good from now on!"

My brain short-circuited.

After my memories returned, all the warnings that were once carved into my soul felt blurry and distant.

Looking at the crying, pathetic mess that was my son, I was completely at a loss. I could only turn to the person beside me.

"Why don't you comfort him? He's always liked you," I said to Clara.

Clara immediately swept him into her arms, cooing softly. I fled, my footsteps quick, leaving the sound of his sobs behind me.

In my memories, seeing Rio like this would have shattered my heart.

But now…I placed a hand over my chest. The space inside was calm as a stagnant pool.

When I had amnesia, a strange heartache would make me cry all night.

Maybe all the tears had run dry, all the emotion spent. This heart could no longer stir for them.

Later that evening, Victor was in the shower. After a few moments, his voice called out.

"Elena, bring me my robe."

I was painting my nails with a new polish and couldn't move my hands. I turned to Clara.

"Can you do it? I'm busy."

Clara's cheeks flushed pink, a shy, girlish look in her eyes. She bit her lip and nodded. "Of course. If the Alpha needs help, I can do anything."

She went. A moment later, an explosive, rage-filled roar came from the bathroom. "Get out!"

It was followed by the sharp crack of a fist shattering glass.

The next second, Victor stormed towards me, his hand bleeding, his face a mask of fury.

"Elena, what the hell are you trying to do!" he roared. "You used to forbid any female from even getting near me, and now you send her to my side!"

I just stared at him, confused.

He let out a bitter laugh. "Fine. Don't you regret this!"

With that, he grabbed Clara, who was soaked, her robe gaping open, and dragged her into the master bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them.

I yawned and went to bed as usual.

Inside Victor's room, Clara clung to his arm in barely restrained delight.

"Victor, then we…" she murmured softly, leaning closer.

Victor shoved her away without warning.

Hard.

He didn't even look at her.

"Go to sleep first. I need some peace," he said flatly.

Clara stumbled back a step.

Her jaw tightened.

Resentment bled into her eyes, sharp and ugly.

....

In the pre-dawn darkness of the blizzard, Victor saw me leave the pack house and, on impulse, woke Rio to follow.

He followed me all the way to the abandoned church at the edge of the pack lands.

And there, they heard the confession that froze their very souls.