Snow White and the Alpha

Chapter 8: Why

|Nieves|

“How was your sleep?” Kairos’s voice was smooth, measured, yet edged with something unreadable as he lowered himself into the empty chair across from me.

The shift in the room was almost imperceptible, but I felt it nonetheless. The air grew heavier, charged with an unspoken tension, as if his very presence commanded the space. Even the servants moved with quiet efficiency, seamlessly setting down cups of tea before retreating faraway from us.

Kairos lifted his cup, his fingers steady as he brought it to his lips. His gray eyes—sharp, penetrating—settled on me as he took an unhurried sip.

I met his gaze head-on, refusing to be the first to look away.

“It was fine,” I said, though we both knew that was far from the truth.

Something flickered behind his eyes—an emotion too fleeting to name—but he didn’t call me out on the lie. Instead, he set his cup down with a soft clink against the porcelain and leaned forward ever so slightly.

“If there’s anything you need, just inform the staff. They’ll see to it.” His words were calm, carefully chosen, but I wasn’t naive enough to believe that was the real reason he had summoned me so early.

I gave a slow nod but shifted in my seat, restless. Enough with the pleasantries. My world had already been reduced to ruins, and I had no patience for small talk.

“So…” I took a steadying breath, forcing the words past the knot in my throat. “What did you really want to talk about?”

Kairos didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his gaze unwavering, as if weighing his next words carefully. Finally, he spoke.

“It’s about the attack on your village.”

The breath hitched in my lungs. A cold ache spread through my chest, dull yet unrelenting. My fingers tightened around the porcelain cup, and I lowered my gaze, watching as the tea trembled slightly, betraying the turmoil within me.

“I don’t n-need answers,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “It was the rogues.”

Kairos exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm against the polished wood of the table, his expression unreadable.

“That may be true,” he conceded, his voice calm yet probing. “But I need to understand something—was your pack in conflict with the rogues before the attack?”

I blinked, momentarily thrown by the question. A flicker of confusion passed through me as I met his gaze.

“Why would you even ask that?” I shot back, a sharp edge creeping into my tone. “Rogues have always been our clan’s enemies. They attack, we defend. That’s how it’s always been.”

Kairos sighed and leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling beneath his chin.

“Not necessarily.”

My frown deepened.

“Rogues don’t just descend on a village, burn it to the ground, and disappear without reason,” he continued, his voice steady, deliberate. “They’re not wild animals acting on impulse. Someone had to have sent them.”

His words hit me like a sudden gust of icy wind.

Someone… sent them?

The idea lodged itself in my mind, sending a shiver down my spine. I had been drowning in grief, too consumed by loss to ever consider that possibility. All this time, I had believed the attack was just another brutal raid—senseless, tragic, but expected.

What if it…wasn’t?

Kairos studied me, waiting for the realization to settle. My throat felt tight as I swallowed against the rising wave of unease.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought about it that way.” I drew in a shaky breath, my fingers clenching in my lap. “All I ever wanted was to grow up, marry my mate, and build a life with my grandmother and my people. That was supposed to be my future. I was meant to be…a Luna.”

I stopped, unable to finish. The weight of what had been stolen from me pressed down like an iron chain.

But that future was nothing more than ash now.

Kairos’s grey eyes locked onto mine, their frigid intensity sending a chill through my bones. The air between us grew unbearably heavy, thick with unspoken words and the weight of something far worse. A suffocating silence stretched on, tightening like an invisible noose around my throat.

Then, at last, Kairos spoke.

“I know who did it.”

The words landed like a physical blow. My entire body went rigid. My heart slammed against my ribcage, a frantic, desperate rhythm that drowned out everything else. I jerked my head up, my breath catching in my chest.

“W-What?”

Kairos didn’t waver, didn’t blink. His expression remained unreadable, carved from stone. When he spoke again, his voice was steady.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

“I know who was behind the ambush.”

A wave of dizziness crashed over me. The room, the firelight flickering against the walls, the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke—it all blurred at the edges. Hope and dread warred inside me, battling for dominance, but I already knew which would win.

Still, I forced myself to ask.

“Who?”

The word barely escaped my lips, a whisper so fragile it might have shattered if it touched the air too harshly.

Kairos set his cup down, the quiet clink echoing louder than it should have. He met my gaze, his voice unwavering, merciless.

“The Clarksons.”

For a moment, everything inside me stopped.

My breath.

My thoughts.

Even the steady thrum of my pulse seemed to falter.

I searched his face, desperate for any flicker of hesitation, any sign that this was a cruel joke, a mistake, a misunderstanding. But there was nothing. No amusement. No uncertainty. Just the weight of truth pressing down on me like an avalanche.

“N-No.” The word trembled from my lips, my head shaking before I even realized I was moving. “That—That doesn’t make sense.”

Kairos didn’t look away. Didn’t soften the blow.

“My men tracked down the rogues responsible while you were unconscious,” he said. “We got answers.” A pause. Then, with finality, “It was the Clarksons.”

A tremor rippled through me, violent and unrelenting. My stomach twisted, nausea curling like a viper in my throat.

“N-No,” I whispered again, my voice raw and breaking. “T-That’s not p-possible.”

David.

My mate. My fiancé. My future.

The man I had loved, the man I had trusted with everything—was part of the family that had slaughtered my pack?

My grandmother?

I couldn’t breathe.

I jolted upright so fast that my chair scraped against the floor, the harsh screech slicing through the tense air. My pulse thundered in my ears, my breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts.

“Y-You’re lying.” My voice cracked, barely a whisper, yet thick with disbelief. My vision swam, distorting the room into a blur of colors and shadows.

“You—you have no fvcking proof!”

Kairos remained still, his posture unnervingly composed. His eyes held no malice, no satisfaction—only an unsettling certainty that made my stomach twist.

“I have no reason to lie to you,” he said, each word measured and deliberate. “And if proof is what you need, I can take you to the rogue we captured. You can hear the truth from its own mouth.”

I shook my head violently, as if I could physically reject his words, as if denial alone could erase them from existence.

“No—” My breath hitched. “The Clarksons wouldn’t—” My voice faltered, breaking under the weight of my own doubt. “They wouldn’t…”

But I couldn’t finish. Because I didn’t know.

A sharp, gut-wrenching sob tore from my throat, raw and unrestrained. My chest ached as if something inside me had cracked wide open, a wound too deep to mend. I pressed a trembling hand against my ribs, as if I could physically hold myself together, as if sheer willpower alone could stop me from falling apart.

Kairos rose at last, slow and deliberate, the way one might approach a wounded animal. He took a single step toward me.

I staggered back.

“T-They…w-wouldn’t,” I whispered again, but the words rang hollow.

Empty.

A long breath escaped Kairos.

“I understand if you don’t want to believe it,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost gentle. “But that won’t change the truth.”

My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my palms. Tears spilled over, tracing hot paths down my cheeks. I wanted to scream, to curse him, to call him a liar.

But the damage was already done.

The doubt had taken root.

And it was spreading fast.

If what he said was true… then why? Why would the Clarksons do something like this? Why would they kill my…family? Just…why?