Chapter 3: A Mother’s Love Turned to Ash

The shadow remains still. Evelyn remains in place, outlined by the soft light of the hall, her dark silks absorbing the moonlight as if it were a chasm. 

The entrance of my room feels like a frontline; her quiet gaze from just moments before, when I had stumbled in, injured and bleeding, seared into my memory. 

My hand aches, fingers swollen from Gabriel’s kick, and the gash on my neck hurts with each swallow, but it’s her gaze that tightens my stomach. 

Chilly, penetrating, boring into me as if I’m a target she’s assessing. "Why were you present?" I burst out, my voice trembling even with the anger I forced into it. 

My strong hand clutches the doorframe, fingers dragging along the wood. She approaches nearer, slowly and purposefully, her heels tapping against the stone. 

The atmosphere grew thick, laden with an unidentifiable weight, perhaps intention, or a hidden truth she holds too tightly. Her blue eyes fixate on mine, unwavering, and I recoil, anticipating words, a strike, anything. 

Yet she remains quiet, her existence a burden on my chest. My heart races, breathing quickens, six days until I reach the Sun Pack, and my own mother is following me like a specter. 

“Say something,” I croak, despising the weakness in my voice. She slants her head slightly, and I could almost swear her lips quirk, like she found it funny. My uneasy claws rises. 

What is she waiting on? 

“Say something mom!”, I croak again, hoping for a reply, a word, anything, yet she says nothing, not even a word, just twirls and walks away. The cold breeze from her swift turn made me tremble.

I was silent for a moment, speechless, but my thoughts kept racing. How could she be so quiet after everything? Why is she watching me?

I had questions but no answers, my unsaid words melted to tears on the verge of falling but I held it, I won't cry, I can't, I have to be strong at least for myself. She is my mother, she must have a reason. One I must know.

With my strong hand I pressed the door open, my eyes catching the shining steel of my father's dagger. It gave me hope and I quickly grabbed it, it was like he was there with me, I felt his presence, I felt reunited. 

For once I felt solace, I layed on the floor and fell asleep, holding the dagger against my chest like it was a shield, a shield from all the noise, the pain, the loneliness.

The morning reveals me in the kitchen, the sole location where I can confront her. The room is filled with steam, a pot bubbling on the fire, and she stirs it, her actions fluid and automatic. 

Excessively tranquil. My boots stomp heavily on the floor as I walk, grime from last night's embarrassment still stuck to them. 

"How can you allow him to treat me this way?" I let loose, my voice snapping like a whip. “He shattered Father’s pendant, confined me in a pit, kicked me into the ground, and you simply stood by?” 

My chest heaves, anger surging, and I pound my functional hand on the table. The timber creaks, dishes clattering, yet she remains unfazed. 

Evelyn continues to mix, facing away from me, her blonde hair packed as always. “I care for you, Marcy,” she states, tone as emotionless as an icebound pond, “but it’s time to advocate for yourself.” The spoon taps on the pot, rhythmic, taunting. 

Care? A bitter laugh escapes me as I struggle to keep my fist steady on the table. “care?” I expectorate. "That's untrue, and you can't deny it." The air sizzles, my rage a palpable entity separating us. 

She pivots slightly, enough to cast a look at me, her expression a facade, calm, indifferent, as if I’m an annoying puppy she’s grown weary of. “Gabriel is now your Alpha,” she remarks, as though that clarifies everything. 

My sight becomes unclear, crimson at the borders. She’s not merely allowing him; she has already chosen this. 

I thrust forward, seizing her arm before she could look away once more. “You’re my mother,” I urged, frantic, clinging tightly to her silk sleeve. "You are meant to stand up for me!"

Her gaze locks with mine, and for an instant, I believe I perceive something, perhaps regret, but then it vanishes, substituted by a glance that was unrecognizable. 

She breaks away, slippery like water flowing through my grasp, and declares, “Your father is no longer here to protect you.” The words hit me like a blow, cutting and definitive, and I reel back, my hand dropping weakly. 

My heart drops, like a rock falling into deep water. She’s concealing something, something that makes her pleased I’m falling apart. I nibble on my lip, tasting blood once more, and observe her return to her pot as if I don't exist. 

By myself in my room, I lean against the wall, the quietness louder than my heartbeat. 

My injured hand grips Father’s dagger, my sole lifeline now, as I run my fingers along its nicks, hoping it will ground me. A memory sparks unexpectedly: years past, perhaps six or seven, prior to Father's passing which reduced everything to dust. 

I crept down the stairs, trying to dispel a nightmare, and caught sounds, Evelyn’s, murmuring and toxic, slicing through the darkness. "You took it all away from me," she had whispered, her silhouette stark against the flames. 

Father’s growl replied, strong yet weary: “You chose your path.” Gabriel was present as well, hanging by the door, his face partially concealed but his gaze fixed on her. 

The memory fades, was she referring to Gabriel? Father picking her as his partner, compelling her into this…this life? My breath catches. 

The deal with the Sun Pack, it’s definitely Gabriel’s strategy, but Evelyn’s quietness, her strange composure, it suddenly seems more significant, as if roots are intertwining deeper than I can perceive. 

Did she despise Father for restricting her? Does she despise me for belonging to him? I grip the dagger more firmly, its blade piercing my palm, and the parts don’t align, not yet, but the deal’s beginning to reek of more than Gabriel’s resentment. 

She discovers me later, as twilight colors the walls orange. I’m lying on my bed, doodling shapes in the dust, curves and sharp lines, a routine from brighter times when Father observed me creating. 

Evelyn's voice pierces the air, gentle yet resolute: "Only five days remaining. Prepare yourself.” I spring up, looking at her expression, those icy blue eyes, the rigid line of her lips.

Apathy, indeed, yet there’s a glimmer, something sinister, a shade lurking beneath her serenity. "Prepare for what?" I insist, upright, my strong hand clenched at my side. 

She remains silent, maintaining my gaze a moment too long before turning away, her silks brushing softly against the ground. 

The silence she departs with is weightier than any words, suffocating my chest until I struggle to breathe properly. Five days. She’s not merely allowing me to leave, she’s shoving me away, and that glimmer indicates she understands more than she reveals. 

I walk back and forth, the room contracting with each movement, my thoughts a mix of Evelyn’s shine and Gabriel’s anxiety. The guard's whisper, because your father picked her, eats away at me, and now her "love" tastes like ashes on my tongue. 

She isn’t the mother I imagined, nor the casualty of Gabriel’s rise to power. She’s something more, not a gap but a link to this trade, and I’m the piece they’re both maneuvering. 

My lip throbs as I clamp down on it more, the taste of blood centering me. Five days to understand it, to fight my way out, but out to where? Jason’s anger, Gabriel’s joy, Evelyn’s mysteries? 

A loud knock at the door jolts me into silence. It swings ajar, and a servant rushes in, panting, her apron knotted in her grip. “Marcy, Gabriel is summoning the pack,” she breathes, her eyes wide. "He's got an announcement." 

My stomach sinks, coldness rushing through my veins. Announcement, now, following his knife against my neck, after Evelyn's mysterious push? I seize the dagger, tuck it into my belt, and sweep by her, heartracing. 

Whatever he possesses, it's another blow coming down, and I’m unprepared.