I set the meatloaf down on the long oak dining table, the scent wafting through the air like a forgotten promise.

Laughter echoed from the living room.

Father, usually buried in Alpha Council meetings and Ashveil Pack’s logistics, sat comfortably, listening intently as Eris gushed about her time at Wolfsbane Academy.

“We practiced under the pack elder Eldric,” she said, eyes shining. “He said I had the instincts of a born Alpha—strong enough to lead any pack.”

Mother clutched Eris’s hand, eyes shimmering with emotion.

“My sweet girl. You’ve lost weight, haven’t you? You need more rest—too much time in training will weaken your wolf and dull your senses.”

Dax sat beside them, still dutifully peeling chestnuts like some Beta servant.

I stood quietly at the threshold between the kitchen and living room—watching, never invited.

That room was warm, bright, full of voices and attention.

This room—mine—was quiet, dim. Forgotten.

Eris’s voice rose with performative sweetness.

“Vera, why are you just standing there? Still mad at me for ruining your ceremony?”

The conversation screeched to a halt.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward me like I was a problem that had just come back.

Father’s brow furrowed.

“Vera, come here. Don’t sulk.”

Mother gave me that impatient look—the one that always followed whenever Eris cried.

“You’re the one who picked that unfortunate date. Eris had just landed, we were all exhausted from the airport run. You know that, don’t you?”

Then came the dagger.

“If you’re going to be petty with your sister, then you’re no daughter of mine.”

Eris gasped, wide-eyed and full of faux concern.

“Mom, don’t be so harsh. Vera will feel hurt…”

But her smirk said otherwise.

She knew my ceremony date. I told her a week in advance.

She even replied:

“Can’t wait! Got a surprise planned for you.”

Surprise, indeed.

Since we were pups, Eris had always managed to turn every situation into a test—one where the pack had to choose.

They always picked her.

Even my mate chose her.

I should’ve felt something—anger, betrayal, sadness.

But there was only... stillness.

“I’m not angry.”

Those three words sliced through the tension like claws through bark.

Everyone stared.

Father blinked.

Mother narrowed her eyes.

Eris tilted her head with a mock-confused pout.

They had expected a tantrum, not serenity.

Which meant... they knew what they did would hurt me.

They just didn’t care enough to stop.

Father exhaled and forced a smile.

“Good. That’s good. We’re a pack. We don’t hold grudges.”

“Of course,” I said, nodding with perfect obedience.

It was the same voice I used to speak to the Elder wolves during full moon rituals.

The relief in their eyes was instant.

They turned their attention back to Eris.

Dinner began.

The maid had added several dishes besides my meatloaf—crab legs, lemon garlic scallops, all Eris’s favorites.

“You’re too thin,” Father murmured, piling food onto her plate.

“Eat more. You’ll need your strength before the orchestral trial,” Mother added, dabbing her eyes again.

Dax chimed in with a grin.

“Don’t worry. If any of those city wolves give you trouble, I’ll rip their throats out.”

Eris laughed, her silver hair gleaming in the light.

“No need. I’ve got this.”

They all chuckled.

I ate in silence, the warmth of the meatloaf doing little to thaw the cold within me.

Then, for the first time that evening, Mother glanced at me.

She hesitated. Picked up a spoonful of meatloaf and placed it on my plate.

“Try it. Don’t think we don’t care about you just because we fuss over Eris. I care about you too.”

The words felt... rehearsed. Like a line from a script she’d used too often.

I looked down at the food, then slowly set my utensils down.

“No. I’m full.”

Her expression shifted—first startled, then irritated.

“What’s wrong with you lately?”

She started to say more, but Eris suddenly clutched her throat, eyes wide.

“Mom… I… I can’t breathe—”

Her voice cracked, breath rasping.

She staggered backward, knocking over her chair.

Panic erupted instantly.

“Eris!” Mother screamed.

“What’s happening?!” Father stood so fast the table shook.

Dax was already at her side, sniffing her neck and face for signs of poison, his Beta instincts flaring.

“Her scent’s spiking—something’s wrong!”

My heart thudded in my chest, not from fear, but from the quiet, twisted irony of it all.

In the chaos, no one noticed me standing completely still—just watching.

Vespa’s voice stirred faintly in my mind.

“She’s not choking, Vera. She’s shifting. Something inside her is waking.”

Eris’s rash bloomed across her skin like a warning from the moon goddess.

"Is this… an allergic reaction?" Father barked, nostrils flaring as he hovered over her convulsing form. "Why would this happen now?"

Mother’s gaze snapped to me like a dagger drawn under moonlight. In the next heartbeat, her palm collided with my cheek, sending me sprawling across the tiled floor.

"Vera! What did you put in the food? Have you forgotten your sister’s triggers?!"

My head rang. The room swam. I could feel Vespa stir within me, a low growl rising in the depths of my chest. But I shoved her back, swallowing the heat clawing at my throat.

Dax stepped forward, eyes flashing in disbelief.

"You were so quiet… so obedient. And now this? You meant to harm Eris."

"How did I end up with a sister like you?" he added, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"Enough!" Father slammed his fist on the table, the sound reverberating like thunder. "Get her to the healer now!"

The room cleared in a blur—my parents and Dax carrying Eris out, frantic and breathless, like she was the moon’s own fragile vessel.

I was left alone, face throbbing, heart hollow.

It wasn’t me.

I whispered the words aloud, but they echoed off the silence like lies.

They wouldn’t believe me. They never did. Not after everything.

I felt something wet and hot on my palm. The maid had returned, her eyes wide as she caught sight of my hands.

"Lady Vera… your hands… they’re—swollen."

I looked down. Red lines bloomed across my skin like fire veins.

"I’m fine," I lied, brushing past her.

In my room, I reached for an old leather-bound notebook. As I opened its worn cover, the scent of old ink and pine dust rose—memories not even the wolf in me wanted to recall.

That winter, prey was scarce. Rogues pushed at our borders, and the Council demanded more from Father than he could give. When resources thinned, when space and safety grew tight, someone had to be sent away.

I volunteered. The obedient daughter. The easy one to forget.

The outpost clung to the cliffs beyond the pack's borders—a place carved for old warriors and outcasts. No pack song reached that far. Only wind and silence. There I learned everything.

They visited once a year for Solstice rites. Each time, they stayed less. Brought more gifts for Eris. Spoke less of me.

When I finally returned, the Stormveil Packhad grown stronger—courts and galleries echoing with pride. My new quarters? A forgotten supply room near the rear exit. No windows. No warmth. Just a reminder: I wasn’t part of the vision they built.

I packed my things into a worn duffel.

The wedding leave I had once requested felt laughable now.

I was reaching for the phone, ready to send a message to my superior at outpost—requesting return to the outpost.

Cain.

My mate.

Or at least, the one fate had paired me with. The one who should have stood by me.

"What did you do to Eris?" he demanded, skipping any pretense of concern. "She’s in the healer’s hall. You poisoned her?"

"It was an allergic reaction," I said simply.

"Don’t lie to me. You’ve always been jealous. How could you hurt your own blood like that?"

His words were fire, burning through any remaining illusion I had.

"Yes. I hurt her. I’ll apologize when she recovers. Are we done?"

He fell silent for a second, stunned by my calm.

We’d argued about Eris before—dozens of times.

He used to flirt with her under the pretense of concern. Ordered her favorite foods during our dinners. Ignored my needs, my wants.

"She’s your sister," he always said, like that made everything acceptable.

To my family, I was always the overreacting one. The unstable one.

When Eris went to the Alpha training, I felt peace for the first time. Even Vespa had been calmer.

Now, the storm had returned.

"If anything happens to Eris again," Cain warned, his voice cold, "there will be no mating ceremony."

Then the line went dead.

I pictured him rushing into the healer’s den, brushing hair from Eris’s face, playing the hero to the girl he truly wanted.

My claws threatened to unsheathe.

Instead, I smirked, hung up, and called my mentor back in the outpost .

Later that night, the front door creaked open.

Mother and Father returned, exhaustion painted across their faces. Dax followed, his head low.

My duffel sat by the door.

I was ready to leave.

From upstairs, I heard them speaking in hushed tones—until the silence cracked open with betrayal.

"If only Cain’s family had better standing," Mother sighed. "He’s so good to Eris…"

"Eris likes him," Father added. "Had I known, I never would’ve paired him with Vera."

"Still," Mother continued, "Cain and Vera are more suited. Let Eris chase her dreams. He can still take care of her, even as Vera’s mate."

The words sank like stones in my gut.

Even now, they planned to keep Eris close to my mate.

To my mate.

I descended the stairs, my presence sudden, cutting off their whispers.

Mother flinched as she saw me.

"Vera… you—You’re still here?"

I said nothing.

Just grabbed my bag and walked into the night—into the cold air and the arms of the moon.

Vespa stirred again.

We were never one of them, Vera. But we are not alone.

I tilted my face skyward, letting the night wind carry my scent far from that house.

From the pack that never truly saw me.

From the mate who never chose me.

Let them keep their false bonds.

I would forge my own.