OLD WOUNDS (ii)

“The way you asked that question,” my mother said, flashing me a hesitant look. “I think—”

“No,” I snapped, cutting her off, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Since you always find an excuse for them, tell me the incident that makes you sure that asshole is such a misunderstood boy.” 

She cringed. “Well,” she said, focusing on her cup of tea to avoid meeting my gaze. "I was referring to that time when you fainted after an encounter with those pack mates."

I winced a little, feeling anger flow through her as she remembered the day her mother was talking about. 

* * * * * * * 

It was about a week after my mom's wedding, and they had finally moved into the pack house. 

That day, I decided to venture out of my comfort zone after another lecture from her mom about putting herself out there. And that turned out to be a very bad idea. 

When I got to the general common room in the pack house, a group of children my age surrounded me, led by a particular girl, and started yelling insulting questions at me, asking if I was the one who killed her father and if her wolf was really dead. 

And slurs, like wolfless wolf and defect. 

The circle got tighter with more people joining the chant, until I thought I was about to suffocate. 

I didn't know she had managed to break free, but I did and ran blindly towards the stairs.

But as I started down them, the girl tripped me, causing me to roll down the rest. 

I lay there stunned and bleeding, blinking up through a haze of pain as Alaric’s face blurred into view above me. 

I offered him a weak smile, hoping for help, but his mouth simply tightened into a cold, hard line.

“What are you doing here?" he snapped coldly, making no move to offer me a hand.

My smile died instantly, a wave of intense embarrassment washing over me. 

"I... I wanted to mingle a little," I whispered.

His scowl darkened. "I told you to stay away from the others, didn’t I?"

Before I could say anything in my defense, someone on the upper balcony shouted, 

"Fire in the hole!" A female voice suddenly called out from above.

I looked past him just in time to see the girl who had tripped me drop a volleyball from the balcony. 

The last thing I saw before everything went black was the ball slamming into my face. 

* * * * * *

I blinked away the ghost of the memory, looking at my mother. “He was the one who brought me back to our wing?”

My mother nodded. “He carried you himself. Then he waited outside until the pack doctor confirmed you were not seriously hurt before he left.” 

“That day, I found his frazzled behavior very bizarre for someone who always acted completely nonchalant around you.” She continued, giving me a sad smile. “But now that the truth is out, all his strange reactions towards you over the years finally make sense.” 

I looked down at my palm, tracing the faint scar still there from where I had caught the edge of a stair on the way down. 

It was prickling now, faintly, like the memory had nerve endings.

"Do you know what he said his reason was for keeping the bond a secret all this time?" Anya continued softly, her voice dropping to a whisper. 

“That is none of my—”

"He said it was because he wanted to shield you from the backlash of the pack and shifter community," she gently interrupted. “He knew you were too fragile to handle the cruelty back then."

I felt a sudden, sharp pang in my chest at the underlying truth of his words. 

He was right. The pack would have torn me apart. 

But I would rather swallow hot coals before I admit it aloud.

“Of course he has a convenient excuse,” I whispered coldly, turning my face away.

“Ty.” My mother’s voice was patient. “He was not entirely wrong about the pack. And you know it.”

“He still should have told me.” I hissed, setting the cup down. “He made a decision about my life without asking me. That is not protection. That is control.”

She did not argue with that.

“I’m still wolfless,” I added. “Whatever his reasoning was then, nothing has changed. I am still the worst possible mate for a pack heir.”

“For now,” she said, in the tone that meant she knew something she was not telling me.

I looked at her sharply. “You say that like you know something.”

She smiled calmly, looking way too composed. “Mothers just know these things.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, that is an extremely unsatisfying answer.”

I got out of bed and headed back to my room window, the cool hardwood floor shocking my bare feet. 

I parted the curtains and stared out toward the distant training field. 

Even with my lack of a wolf side, my eyesight and hearing were still better than regular humans.

In the crisp morning light, the twins were sparring shirtless on the frost-covered grass, their broad, heavily muscled bodies gleaming with sweat. 

Their movements were sharp, lethal, and perfectly synchronized as they traded brutal blows.

I tried not to notice every flex of Alaric’s back, or the aggressive drive of Osric’s hips that drew my eyes. I tried to ignore the dangerous, wet heat that immediately began to crawl along my skin again just from watching them.

“I wish none of this had ever happened,” I said quietly, my breath fogging the glass.

Anya walked over to stand beside me, her gaze following mine out toward the field. “Wishing does not change destiny, Tyra. Facing it does."

“I am tired of destiny,” I murmured, my forehead resting against the cool pane. “It is not a new concept for Alphas of their status to ignore a fated match and marry a powerful female for political empowerment. I am certain that is exactly what Alaric is planning to do.”

“Whatever Alaric decides, Osric is still there.” My mother said, touching my shoulder gently. “Don’t punish him for his brother’s sins.”