POV: Aira Moonstone
The scent of coffee still clung to her skin as Aira walked home beneath the quiet stretch of twilight. The world had dimmed to soft hues—lavender clouds, tired streetlights flickering on one by one.
But inside her, everything hurt.
She shouldn't have cared.She told herself that over and over again.
He's not your mate.He never was. He never will be.You're just the girl who clears their plates and smiles too softly.
But the image was seared into her mind:Asher. Kissing Irene.Like she didn't exist at all.
Her boots crunched across the old gravel path as she reached the Beta's house. She opened the door as quietly as she could, praying tonight would be different.
It wasn't.
Kael Moonstone sat in the worn chair near the fireplace, the room dim except for the low amber light glowing from the TV. A half-empty glass of whiskey hung from his fingers.
He didn't look up at first.
"You're late," he muttered.
"I worked the evening shift," Aira said gently, slipping her shoes off.
Kael scoffed.
"Working. What a noble little omega. Out earning tips while your brother trains to carry this pack on his back."
Aira didn't respond. She didn't trust her voice.
"Do you even care how this family looks anymore?" he said, standing slowly. "You walk around like some lost pup, begging for scraps of attention."
Aira's spine stiffened.
"I don't ask for anything."
"No, you just take. You took your mother. You took our honor. You—"
"Enough!" she said, louder than she meant to.
Silence slammed into the room.
Kael's eyes flashed—anger? Shock? She couldn't tell.
But the words had slipped out before she could shove them back in.
"You don't get to say I took her. I was a child," she whispered. "You don't get to punish me because you don't know how to grieve."
Kael stepped forward, towering.But he didn't hit her.
He didn't have to.
"If you had even half the strength Selene had… you'd be worth something," he said coldly.
That hurt more than any blow ever could.
She didn't wait. She didn't reply.
She turned and climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last.
When she reached her room, she locked the door behind her.
The air was cold. The silence louder than ever.
She sat on her bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. It felt like the whole house was pressing down on her chest.
Her throat tightened.
And finally… she moved to her cupboard.
From the bottom drawer, under folded shirts and hidden sketches, she pulled out an old, worn photo.
Her mother.
Selene Moonstone smiled in the picture—eyes bright, hair falling in waves, arms wrapped around a chubby-cheeked eight-year-old Aira.
Aira hugged the photo to her chest and curled up on her bed.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, silent and steady.
"I miss you, Mom," she whispered."I wish you could see me… I'm still trying. I haven't stopped trying."
The moonlight spilled across her blanket like a quiet embrace.
Her wolf stirred within her, not in rage or fear—but in mourning.
The world didn't see her.But her mother would have.
And one day... they all would.