Chapter Four
1264 Words
The moment I stepped into my room, I closed the door quietly behind me.
The laughter downstairs still echoed faintly through the walls.
I didn’t make it to the bed.
The tears fell before I could stop them.
I covered my mouth quickly, forcing the sobs to stay silent. My shoulders shook, but no sound escaped. Years of learning how to endure had taught me that much at least.
I had a family once.
The thought broke something open inside me.
What changed?
What went wrong?
When did I become unnecessary?
Was I truly that terrible of a daughter?
I slid down against the door, knees folding beneath me, pressing my forehead into them as memories flooded in without permission.
I remembered when Mother used to braid my hair every morning.
Her fingers were always gentle, even when she pretended to scold me.
“Stop running around like a wild cub,” she would say, pretending to frown while smiling softly at me through the mirror.
I would giggle and promise to behave.
She used to tell me bedtime stories—stories of the Moon Goddess, of powerful Lunas and brave warriors. She would kiss my forehead before I slept, whispering that I was her precious miracle.
If anyone made me cry, she would be the first to demand answers.
“How dare you upset my daughter?”
She used to say it with such fierce pride.
Even Father…
He used to carry me on his shoulders through the pack grounds. I felt so tall, so safe up there, gripping his hair while he laughed.
He brought me to his meetings sometimes, ignoring the elders’ raised brows.
“She has a sharp mind,” he would say. “Let her listen.”
He indulged me in everything. Training swords too big for my hands. Extra honey cakes before dinner. Riding beside him during inspections.
When I caused trouble outside, my brothers were always there before I even had to ask.
“Who upset you?”
“Tell us their names.”
They never yelled at me.
Never made me feel like I didn’t belong.
Never made me feel adopted.
Not once.
There was a time when the pack loved me.
Not out of obligation. Not out of pity.
But truly loved me.
I can still remember the summer nights when the air smelled like pine and smoke, when the entire territory would gather in the clearing beyond the training grounds. The bonfire would crackle high into the dark sky, sparks dancing like fireflies above our heads.
I used to sit right in the middle of it all.
We would roast meat over open flames, laughing when someone burned theirs. The younger wolves would challenge each other to races, shifting halfway just to show off. I always joined them, fast and fearless, I couldn't shift but I was fast in running and my brothers cheered loudly whenever I won.
“Of course she did,” they would boast. “She’s our sister.”
The elders would tell stories of past Alphas and legendary Lunas, and I would sit cross-legged at the front, completely captivated. Sometimes they would pause mid-story and say, “One day, little Seraphina will have a story greater than all of these.”
The pack believed it.
So did I.
I remember dancing barefoot on the grass when the musicians played their drums. Cassian would grab my hand and spin me until I grew dizzy, both of us collapsing in laughter. My mother would shake her head fondly while Father watched with unmistakable pride.
Food tasted sweeter back then.
Laughter sounded louder.
Belonging felt natural.
No one whispered when I passed. No one questioned my place.
I wasn’t adopted.
I wasn’t wolfless.
I wasn’t a burden.
I was theirs.
And they were mine.
The warmth of those nights still lingers in my memory… like the fading heat of a bonfire long after the flames have died.
Cassian…
I let out a broken breath.
He used to bring me wildflowers he picked himself. Not perfect bouquet arrangements—just uneven little bundles tied with twine.
“They reminded me of you,” he’d say, grinning.
We used to spar together until sunset. Competing. Laughing. Falling into the grass breathless.
He promised me things.
“I’ll build you a house overlooking the northern ridge.”
“I’ll make sure no one ever makes you cry.”
“I’ll stand beside you when you become Luna.”
All of it felt real.
All of it felt permanent.
“All gone,” I whispered hoarsely.
The room felt too quiet.
I pressed my hand to my chest as another wave of grief hit me.
This would be the last time.
The last tears I would shed for them.
I was really going to die.
The words didn’t scare me the way they should.
They felt… normal to me.
I sniffed, wiping my face roughly.
I was ready.
I wouldn’t back down.
There was nothing left here for me.
Lyra had taken my place so completely that sometimes I wondered if I had imagined ever belonging at all. She stood where I used to stand. Smiled where I used to smile. Received affection that once felt natural to me.
And slowly, carefully, she made me look like the villain in everyone’s eyes.
I had watched it happen.
Small misunderstandings, twisted stories, perfectly timed tears.
Now I was merely a burden.
A wolfless disgrace.
Nothing.
I took a shaky breath and stood, walking toward the mirror.
My eyes were red.
My face pale.
Was this truly the same girl they once called blessed?
A soft knock sounded at the door.
My heart jumped violently.
For a second, I wondered if they had come to scold me again.
I quickly wiped my tears away with the back of my sleeve, pressing my palms against my cheeks to cool the redness.
Another knock.
Steady and Patient, not sounding like my parents knock or brothers.
I moved to the door and opened it.
The Beta stood there.
My father’s most loyal right-hand man.
Tall. Composed. Quietly imposing.
He had served our pack longer than I had been alive. Every wolf respected him. Feared him, even.
But with me… he had always been different.
Kind.
Never overly affectionate, never indulgent—but kind.
Whenever the whispers about my missing wolf began, he was the only one who would still correct my stance during training instead of avoiding me.
“Strength isn’t only in the wolf,” he once told me.
“You are more than what you awaken.”
He reminded me of who I used to be.
Who I still wanted to believe I was.
His sharp eyes swept over my face now.
He noticed.
Of course, he noticed.
He had never seen me weak before.
Never seen me cry.
For a moment, I could see the flicker in his gaze.
Concern. He was concerned about me.
But he did not comment on it.
He never humiliated anyone by pointing out their wounds.
His voice lowered slightly.
“May I come in?”
The gentleness of it nearly broke me again.
I hesitated.
I didn’t really need company.
I didn’t want anyone to see the remains of my weakness scattered across this room. I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want pity.
But this was the Beta.
And for reasons I couldn’t fully explain, his presence felt safe. Like something solid in a house that was slowly crumbling around me.
So instead of refusing, I stepped aside silently.
And let him in.
- Writer
