I had always been the afterthought. The spare daughter. The backup. I lived my entire life in the shadow of my perfect older sister, Mona. So when Mona suddenly fell into a coma just days before her wedding, I was forced to take her place and marry Roman, the Alpha's son. The moment she woke up, she pointed straight at me in front of everyone and screamed, "Lyra pushed me down the stairs! She tried to steal my fiancĂ©!" There was no explanation. No trial. They threw me straight into the dungeon to await execution. The executioner had already raised his blade when a cold voice cut through the air. "Who dares?" My eyes flew open. A man I hadn't seen in five years was walking straight toward me through the crowd. Kael Nightfang. The Alpha's eldest son. The one every pack feared. He stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body, and looked out over the hall like he was already deciding who to kill first. "Touch her," he said, voice like ice, "and you die." ***************** Chapter 1 LYRA POINT OF VIEW The white dress didn't fit right. Nothing fit right anymore. I stood in the prep room while the ceremony helper twisted pins into my hair. Each one jabbed my scalp. I welcomed the small sharp pain. It gave me something to focus on besides the hollow feeling in my chest. "Stop moving," the helper muttered. I pressed my nails into my palms instead, drawing crescents into my skin. Through the window, pack members arrived in their finest clothes. They laughed and greeted each other like today was worth celebrating. Like my sister wasn't lying in a hospital bed three buildings away, unconscious and fighting to survive. Mona had been awake for exactly two days since the fall. That was all the doctors promised us. They wouldn't say if she would wake up again. They wouldn't say if she would still be herself if she did. Nobody had asked why Mona and I argued minutes before she fell. Nobody but me knew that we had. My father filled the doorway, his Beta frame blocking the light. He looked at me the way he looked at broken tools that might still be useful. "You're ready," he said. Not a question. "Father." My voice came out thin. "Please. We could wait. For Mona. She could stillâ" The words stopped there. I didn't know how to finish them. His face didn't move. "The alliance doesn't wait. Roman's family expects a bride today. We don't break agreements over an accident." He stepped closer until his shadow covered my face. "Mona is gone. You are here. The pack needs this union." Gone. Not dead. The word still cut like a blade, because he wasn't wrong. Mona was gone in every way that mattered. Trapped in a body that wouldn't answer her. "What about Roman?" I asked. "What about what he wants?" "Roman will do his duty." He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw. "So will you. No tears. No complaints. You will stand at that altar grateful for the chance to save this family." My hands shook so hard the pins kept slipping. The helper sighed and started over, her movements sharp with annoyance. My father left without another word. His silence was worse than threats. It carried its own promise of what would come if I failed him. Music started outside. Slow and sweet, the kind meant for Mona's wedding, not mine. The hall was packed shoulder to shoulder. Faces turned as my father walked me down the aisle, watching for proof of something they had already decided about me. Roman waited at the altar, tall and impossibly still, like a man enduring a punishment nobody else could see His mother stood beside him. Linda had always looked at me like dirt tracked in on someone's shoe. Today she looked at me like a thief who had stolen the one thing she valued most. My father placed my hand in Roman's. His skin was warmer than I expected. For one second his thumb brushed the back of my hand. Then he pulled away like I burned him. "We gather to join these two in pack marriage," the Alpha said, his voice booming through the hall. The same words he had said at a hundred other weddings, worn hollow from repeating. I wasn't listening. I was counting Roman's breaths, watching his jaw tighten with each one. His free hand stayed fisted at his side. When his vow came, his voice was flat steel. "I, Roman, son of Alpha Kenneth, take you as mate and wife under pack law." Nothing more. No warmth. No promise. My turn came. The words felt thick, like swallowing glass. "I, Lyra, daughter of Beta Marcus, take you as mate and husband under pack law." The Alpha pronounced us married the way he might seal a business deal. Tradition called for a kiss. Roman leaned in. For half a second his eyes met mine, and something close to pity flickered there. Then his mouth touched my cheek for less than a heartbeat. The crowd murmured, satisfied the ritual was done. He pulled back, jaw locked tight again. The reception stretched into hours. I sat beside Roman while he talked business with his father's friends, none of it meant for me. When I leaned closer to hear, he angled his body away. Not violent. Just final. His mother sat across from us and smiled at him, looking past me like I was a chair. "Such a tragedy," she said. "Mona was perfect for this family. She had grace. Strength. Everything a Luna should be." Roman nodded. His jaw tightened further. He didn't argue. He didn't defend me. He just accepted her words as fact. My hands went still on the table. I was starting to understand how the world worked. Some people were born lucky, in the right body, with the right sister, at the right time. Others spent their whole lives paying for accidents that weren't their fault. Pack members came by all evening with hollow congratulations, their eyes sliding past mine. One man clapped Roman on the shoulder with a look that said *I'm sorry for your loss*, as if Roman had buried someone instead of married them. I was the consolation prize. The apology gift for a wedding that should have gone to someone else. Near midnight, Roman stood and said something to his father that made the Alpha nod. When he sat back down, his hand brushed my shoulder. His fingers lingered there for a second before pulling away. So brief I almost imagined it. The Alpha rose as the moon climbed higher. "The newlyweds should retire." Cold slid down my spine. Roman offered his arm. His eyes fixed on a point past my head. I took it anyway. His skin was warm. I was cold straight through, and his warmth felt like a lie. We walked through the grounds collecting wishes that sounded more like apologies. The cabin waited at the edge of the property, far enough from the main compound that no one would hear what happened inside. The door closed behind us. Roman crossed to the far side of the room without looking at me, careful and deliberate, like looking at me might break something. "I'll take the couch." "We could share the bed. It's big enough." "No." His voice wasn't angry. Anger could fade. This was worse. This was certainty, settled deep in his bones. "I won't touch you, Lyra. And I won't sleep beside you knowing what you did." The words landed harder than hate would have. This wasn't a feeling that might change. This was a verdict. He pulled a blanket from the storage chest and threw it on the couch. "Roman, I didn't push her. I was there. I would neverâ" "I don't want to hear it." He kept his hands busy with the blanket, anything to avoid looking at me. "You're only here because Mona fell. We both know why." I went into the bedroom and shut the door. The quiet pressed down on me. I stood until my legs ached, then sank onto the bed still in the white dress. Through the wall, I heard water running as Roman washed up, then the creak of the couch as he lay down. Then silence, heavy as a burial. I lay in the dark, listening to a stranger breathe ten feet away. My husband. The cabin felt smaller than my father's house ever had. Time passed strangely after that. Maybe minutes. Maybe an hour. Then I heard Roman's footsteps again, quiet, careful not to wake me. The front door creaked open. I sat up and listened. His voice came low through the wall, urgent. "I know what you said. I don't care. This was the Alpha's decision, not mine." A pause. I held my breath. "No. This changes nothing. When Mona wakes up, I'm ending it. I don't care about the alliance." My chest went hollow. "She's not Mona. She could never be Mona. I won't pretend otherwise just because a ceremony happened today." The line went dead. Or he hung up. I couldn't tell. His footsteps came back inside. The door clicked shut. He returned to the couch without checking on me, without knowing I had heard every word. I lay back and stared at nothing. He wasn't planning to stay married to me. He was counting the days until Mona woke up. Which meant I had no time at all. Chapter 2 LYRA POV I woke to sunlight cutting through the curtains. For one breath, sleep held me. Then the cabin walls came into focus. The gold band on my finger felt like it was tightening. Roman's side of the bed had never been slept in. The couch held crumpled blankets and the shape of where he'd spent the night. A note sat on the kitchen counter. Pack meeting at ten. Just a time. No name attached to it, which made it worse than if he'd written my name and crossed it out. The clothes in the closet weren't mine. Too wide in the shoulders, loose everywhere else. I pulled them on anyway. The alternative was showing up in yesterday's wedding dress, and I didn't have the strength to survive that kind of visible breaking. The walk to the main pack house took longer than it should have. My legs moved slower than normal, like they knew what waited there. The smell of breakfast filled the hall when I arrived. Butter. Meat. Something charred. It made my stomach turn instead of calling to hunger. Conversations stopped when people noticed me. Not all at once, but in waves, like I was something spreading through the room. The silence that followed felt intentional, a collective decision to make space for my arrival by refusing to acknowledge it. Roman stood near the back with other young men. His attention was on them until I entered, then his body angled away so deliberately that everyone watching could measure the distance he wanted between us. It wasn't anger. Anger would have looked different. This was something colder. This was him deciding I wasn't worth the effort of even pretending. My legs carried me toward the food table because standing alone in the center of the room meant drowning in plain sight. Linda's voice reached me before I could reach it. "Lyra. There you are." She rose from her seat like she had all the time in the world, and the room noticed. Conversations dimmed. People watched to see what Linda wanted. "I wasn't sure when you expected me to arrive," I started, but she was already moving toward me. "The meeting started at ten." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I hope you weren't confused about the time." Her hand found my elbow. To anyone watching, it looked like affection. Her fingers dug in a way that suggested otherwise. "You're still learning how things work here," she continued, her voice soft enough that only I could hear the edge in it. "Coming from a smaller household, there are probably so many little details you haven't picked up." The implication stung because it was designed to. My family was smaller. Less important. I was something she was tolerating. She steered me toward the serving table and handed me a chipped plate without asking what I wanted. The unbroken ones sat beside it. "Take what you'll actually eat," she said, loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. "We don't waste food." I reached for fresh bread. Her hand redirected my wrist toward the dried toast at the far end. "Much better choice," she said, like I'd shown good judgment. "More filling this way." She released me and drifted back to her seat. I stood holding the chipped plate with stale toast and felt something shift inside my chest. Not anger yet. Something quieter. Understanding. I sat at the edge of a table. No one joined me. When people needed to pass, they walked the longer way around the room rather than brush past me. The Alpha called the meeting to order. Territory maps were spread across a table at the front. Hunting schedules. Border patrols. Pack business that no longer included me. I picked at the stale toast and felt the weight of invisible eyes. Not angry eyes. Dismissive ones. That was worse. Linda waited until the routine business was finished before she stood. When she did, the room shifted. People straightened. Whatever was coming mattered. "We're fortunate," she began, her eyes finding me across the space, "that we've been able to maintain stability during a difficult transition." The words sounded diplomatic. They meant something else entirely. "While we all continue to hope for Mona's recovery, we must plan for all possibilities. The Alpha bloodline will continue strong regardless of circumstances." She let that sit. Let everyone consider what she meant. Leadership. Power. The understanding that I was a variable in someone else's calculation. "Regarding the Spring Gathering, we'll need someone to manage the smaller details. Lyra, you'll handle the floral arrangements." She said it the way a general assigns the lowest rank to the lowest task. Flowers. How fitting. Roman's jaw tightened. He shifted slightly. "Actually," he cut in, and the room went still. "The arrangements should be done well. People notice those things." His mother's smile didn't waver, but something sharp flickered across her face. Challenge registered. "Of course," she said smoothly. "We'll ensure they're acceptable." The tone meant everything. Acceptable. Not beautiful. Not impressive. Acceptable enough that she wouldn't be embarrassed by them. I pressed my nails into my napkin and watched it tear. The meeting broke apart gradually. People filtered toward exits, toward conversations, toward anywhere except near me. Linda's hand closed around my bicep before I could stand. "Come with me," she said. Her nails dug small crescents into my skin. The hall emptied until only Linda, the Alpha, Roman, and I remained. I could hear my own heartbeat in the silence. "Family should know each other," Linda continued. Her voice had changed. It sounded like silk wrapped around knives. "I think it's time you visited Mona. I believe you owe her a visit." The room tilted slightly. "What do you mean?" My voice came out thin. The floor felt uncertain beneath me. "Your sister is in the medical wing. Family visits her regularly. You should see what you did to her." "I didn't..." The denial formed, but it died before reaching air. I'd said it too many times. Denial just proved I had something to deny. The Alpha made a small sound. A warning, maybe. Linda ignored it. "Now," she said. "We'll go now." The walk to the medical wing happened in silence. Linda's hand never left my arm. The Alpha walked ahead. Roman followed behind. When we reached Mona's room, Linda stopped at the doorway and turned to face me. "Before we go in," she said, her voice dropping lower, "I think you should apologize." "I didn't hurt her. I would never..." "Apologize." The word was a command. Around us, the hallway had emptied. No witnesses except the Alpha and Roman. "I'm innocent," I said, and the words sounded hollow even to me. Linda's grip tightened on my arm. "Kneel." "What?" "You heard me. Kneel in front of your sister and tell her you're sorry for what you did." "I won't kneel for something I didn't do." The Alpha made a sound of disapproval. Roman's jaw clenched. "Your wife will kneel," Linda said to Roman, not to me. "Unless you want to explain to the pack why you're protecting someone who tried to murder her own sister." Roman didn't move. Didn't speak. His silence meant agreement. My legs shook as I lowered myself to the floor. The tile was cold against my knees. This was humiliation beyond anything that had come before. This wasn't just social dismissal. This was Linda making me physically smaller. Making Roman watch me break. I knelt in front of Mona's unconscious body, and when I tried to speak, nothing came out. The words caught in my throat because they would be lies, and even now, even when no one would believe the truth, I couldn't force myself to claim guilt I didn't carry. "I'm sorry," I finally whispered, and I wasn't sure anymore if I was apologizing to Mona or to myself. Linda released my arm only when she was satisfied. When she was certain everyone watching understood exactly what I was worth. The medical wing smelled different from the rest of the house. Sterile. Cold. Like nothing alive belonged there. Mona's room held machines that beeped in patterns I didn't recognize. Tubes ran from her arms into bags of liquid. A ventilator breathed for her with mechanical precision. She looked perfect. That detail stuck with me first. Her hair lay in waves across the pillow. Her skin showed no bruises, no scars from the fall. She could have been sleeping if you didn't look at the tubes. If you didn't look at the machines keeping her breathing. Linda stood beside the bed like she owned it. "Even unconscious, she's more loved than you could ever be," Linda said quietly. "Everyone here wishes she was conscious. Do you understand what that means?" I understood. They were wishing me away. The Alpha watched from the doorway but said nothing. His silence was its own answer. Roman stood behind his father, and when I glanced at him, something flickered across his face. Not quite pity. Something more complicated. I approached Mona's bed slowly. The machines hissed and beeped around me. "I didn't hurt you," I whispered to her unconscious face. "I would never." A healer appeared in the doorway, her eyes narrowing when she saw me standing close to the bed. She didn't leave, just watched like I might unplug something. Hurt Mona further. Everyone thought I was capable of that. Darkness incarnate. "We're leaving," the Alpha said quietly. The walk back happened in silence. Roman kept enough distance between us that we didn't touch. When he spoke, it was about the flowers. "Make them good." "Roman, I need to know if you believe..." "Just make them good enough that Mother won't criticize." He left me standing in the cabin, door closing quietly behind him. I locked myself in the bathroom and sank onto the edge of the tub. The space was small. Quiet. Safe in the way only isolation could be safe. Bruises marked where Linda's nails had dug into my skin. Purple crescents. I traced them with my thumb, proof that this was real, that she'd done this, that I wasn't imagining the cruelty. Through the thin walls, I heard Roman moving around the cabin without looking for me. He didn't care where I was. I leaned against the cool tile and tried to breathe normally. Tried to find the girl who had existed before yesterday. She was gone. I could feel it. When I finally emerged from the bathroom, Roman was on the porch, his phone pressed to his ear. "Yes, I understand," he said quietly. "No, she's not a threat to anything. She's just... trying too hard. Mother sees it as weakness. I see it as survival." My feet stopped moving. I was meant to not exist, which meant I was learning to move like a ghost. He hadn't noticed me. "The bruises are from Mother, not me," he continued, and the words hit different than they should have. Almost defensive. Almost like he cared. "I know what you're thinking. No. That's not... she's not like that." He paused. Listened. "I'm aware is regaining consciousness. Healer says sheâs responding againâ. But that's not my concern right now. My concern is keeping this situation from falling apart completely before Mona is well enough for me to end it properly." He disconnected the call without saying goodbye. For a moment, he just stood there staring out at the dark forest beyond our cabin. I waited until he went back inside to move. When I did, I stayed against the wall where he couldn't see me. He'd noticed my bruises. He'd defended me to someone on the phone. He'd called me a threat to nothing. But he was still planning to leave me the moment he could. Somehow, that contradiction hurt worse than any of the certainties. Chapter 3 ROMAN POV The hospital corridor was empty at 6:15 AM. My footsteps echoed too loud in the silence. The door to Mona's room waited at the end of the hallway, and my chest tightened as I approached it. These visits drained me. They always did. But staying away felt worse. I stood outside her door for longer than usual. My hand hesitated on the handle. The doubt from last night still lived somewhere underneath my skin, something I'd tried to burn away with hard training and exhaustion. I pushed the door open anyway. Mona lay motionless in the hospital bed. Three months without change. Her hair caught the morning light. Her face looked like she was simply sleeping, which would have been comforting if I believed it. I sat down in the chair beside her bed and didn't say anything at first. I took her hand. It was warm but offered nothing back. No response. Never a response. From my jacket, I pulled the purple flower. Wolfsbane. The kind she loved. I'd smuggled it past the nurses three times this week already, and they'd stopped commenting on it. But I hesitated before placing it on the pillow. The flower looked fragile against her hair. Fragile and temporary. "The meadow is full of these now," I finally said, placing it down. My voice sounded strange. Uncertain. "You used to say they made the sky look different when you looked up through them." The monitor beeped. I waited, knowing nothing would come. "I promised I'd take you back." The words felt smaller than they had before. Like I was saying them out of habit rather than belief. Outside the room, the hospital was waking. Nurses passed in the hallway. I had minutes before I had to leave. "I miss you." The words came out rough, but they felt incomplete. "Your laugh. The way you concentrated on things." My forehead rested against our joined hands. The wedding ring felt heavy. I tried to remember the night before her fall. She'd worn that blue dress. We went to the lookout. She'd talked about futures and plans and everything we'd build together. But when I reached for the memory now, parts of it felt slippery. Uncertain. Had she really said those things, or was I reconstructing a perfect moment that probably never existed? I pushed the thought away. "The meadow is still there," I said instead, changing direction. "I walk past it sometimes." Not every day. I used to. Before. "Everything got complicated fast." I said this more to myself than to her. "The wedding was supposed to happen anyway. Mother said it couldn't wait." My jaw tightened. Mother had been very certain about the timing. Very sure that everything had to move forward immediately. I'd agreed because it made sense then. Pack politics. Alliances. It had all seemed reasonable at the time. But now I couldn't quite remember why it had felt so urgent. A noise at the door pulled me back. Nurse Ellis appeared with her clipboard, and I straightened too quickly. "Early visit," she observed, walking toward the machines. "Yes." I stood and didn't offer more explanation. She noticed the purple flower on the pillow. Her expression shifted but she didn't comment. She knew better. "Any change?" I asked the question I'd asked every day, though the answer never varied. "Brain activity remains stable. Dr. Marshall is trying a new protocol today. Using sensory triggers." I nodded like I believed in new protocols. I didn't. Three months of new treatments and new theories had produced nothing. "Let me know if anything changes," I said, heading for the door. As I left, I caught her watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Like she was seeing something I wasn't aware I was showing. Morning air hit me as I left the hospital wing. The sun was rising fast now. Pack members moved through the grounds beginning their day. Several nodded as I passed. I barely acknowledged them. My mother waited on the main house steps. She stood like she'd been there waiting the entire time. "Hospital again?" Her question wasn't actually a question. "Yes." She studied my face like she could read everything I was hiding. Maybe she could. She always seemed to know. "You look exhausted. Are you sleeping at all?" The accusation in her voice was clear. She meant Lyra. She meant the marriage. She meant that somehow my wife was responsible for my sleeplessness. "I'm fine." "You're destroying yourself." She fell into step beside me. "These visits every morning aren't healthy, Roman. They're not realistic." "I'm not discussing this." She pressed her mouth into a thin line and changed tactics. "Have you eaten? I had the kitchen prepare your favorites." Food would make my stomach turn but refusing would only stretch this conversation longer. "Fine." The main house dining room bustled with servants and movement. My father sat reading reports at the head of the table. He looked up as we entered, and I could see him measuring something in my face. "Hospital visit?" he asked simply. "Yes." He didn't press further. My mother, though, was different. "You look like you haven't slept," she observed, gesturing for coffee. "The girl is keeping you up?" The accusation hung in the air, needing only confirmation. "She's quiet," I said, which wasn't actually answering the question. "Quiet is one word for it." My mother settled into her seat with the ease of someone comfortable in power. "The pack is noticing your distance from her. It reflects poorly on you." My father made a small sound of agreement. "The boy married her. It's done. He should at least appear civil." "I am civil," I said, though I knew that wasn't true. Civil implied basic respect. "You actively avoid her," my mother countered. "That reads as weakness to the pack. Or cruelty." "It reads as a man dealing with circumstance." The words came out sharper than I intended. My father leaned back in his chair. "The circumstance is that she's your wife. Whether you like it or not, she represents you. How you treat her is how the pack sees you." I didn't respond because he was right and I hated that he was right. Breakfast continued in uncomfortable silence. I ate without tasting anything. My thoughts scattered between Mona's hospital room and this table and a question I couldn't quite stop thinking about. Would you believe me if I said no? The question shouldn't still be in my head. I'd decided. Everyone had decided. What difference did it make what I actually believed? Later, walking toward the training grounds, I spotted movement near my cabin. Lyra came out the door moving fast, her head down. She was trying to disappear. Several younger pack members noticed her. I watched their faces change. Watched the whispers start. I stopped walking and just stood there watching from a distance. The logical thing would be to feel satisfied. To feel like justice was being served. She deserved isolation if she'd done what everyone said she did. But my chest tightened as I watched her hurry away. Something about her movements felt wrong. Like she wasn't running from judgment. Like she was running from something else. Something I couldn't quite name. I remembered her question from the hospital room, whispered so quietly I almost missed it. "Would you believe me if I said no?" What if she meant it? No. That was the thought I was supposed to crush immediately. Everyone saw what happened. Everyone knew the timing. Everyone understood her motive. Except no one actually saw her push Mona down the stairs. We all assumed. We all decided. No one actually witnessed it. The thought came and went too quickly, but not before I felt the weight of it. Not before I understood that I'd built my entire certainty on a foundation of assumption rather than fact. I turned away from watching her and headed for the training grounds. Physical exhaustion might burn away these questions. Might make me stop thinking about how her denial kept sounding like truth and how my absolute conviction felt increasingly hollow. But as I walked, the questions didn't fade. They multiplied. What exactly had happened on those stairs that day? And why couldn't I quite remember the details anymore? Chapter 4 LYRA POV My fingers bled as I pushed the last white rose into place. Three hours arranging flowers for the territory gathering, my back screaming in protest. Everything had to be perfect. Linda would tear me apart if anything was wrong. "They're just flowers. No one will even notice." Roman's voice made me jump. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, watching me work. "I notice," I said, straightening. "And your mother will find fault no matter what I do." He shrugged. "Why bother? Mother will criticize regardless of what you produce." His words cut because they were true. Still, I had to try. Roman walked around the table, studying my arrangements. "Mona would have used blue flowers. They match the pack colors better." Always Mona. Every breath circled back to her. Mona who was better. Mona who was wanted. "The flower seller had no blue ones," I said, swallowing hard. "Did you?" Doubt dripped from his words. "Or did you simply not try hard enough?" I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. "The Alpha and Luna symbols should be at the head table, not the side," he said, pointing. "Your mother told me to put them there." "Then why didn't you?" I frowned. "I just said..." "No, you didn't. These are at the side table." Confusion hit me like a slap. Hadn't Linda specifically ordered me to place them at the side? "But she said..." Roman's laugh cut like a knife. "Amazing how you always blame others for your mistakes. Fix it before Mother sees." As he turned to leave, understanding crashed over me. Linda had set me up to fail. Again. "Wait. Your mother told me the side table specifically. She's trying to make me look bad." Roman spun back, eyes flashing with anger. "Enough! My mother welcomed you despite what you did to Mona. She gives you simple tasks a child could do. And still you whine and point fingers." "That's not what I'm...." "Move the arrangements. And stop making excuses." He stalked out, leaving me alone with twenty heavy centerpieces to move before guests arrived in an hour. As I lifted the first arrangement, a memory hit me like a blow. ~~~ *I stood in the kitchen at ten, flour coating my hands as I decorated Mona's birthday cake. Father walked in, frowning at my work.* *"This won't do. I ordered a professional cake."* *"But... I spent all morning..."* *"Mona deserves the best. Clean this up before she sees it."* *Later, I watched Mona blow out candles on a perfect bakery cake. Father beamed, his arm around his golden daughter.* *"Nothing but the best for my princess."* *I slipped away, invisible. In the kitchen, I ate a slice of my rejected cake alone in the dark, tasting salt from tears I couldn't stop.* ~~~ An hour later, every muscle on fire, I placed the final centerpiece on the head table. Maybe Linda would finally see my worth. "What have you done?" Linda stood in the doorway, face twisted with disgust. "I moved the arrangements to the head table," I explained. "Roman said they should be here." Linda's eyes narrowed. "I specifically told you to place them at the side tables." "But Roman said..." "Are you calling me a liar?" Linda stepped closer. "First you try to kill my future daughter-in-law, and now you call me a liar in my own home?" My chest tightened. "No, I just thought..." "Your thinking is what causes problems." Linda circled the tables. "Look at this, the roses are already dying. Did you even cut the stems right?" They weren't dying. I had checked each bloom carefully. But arguing would only make things worse. "I'll replace any bad ones." Linda sniffed. "There's no time. And you're not even dressed properly. Go change into something decent if you insist on being seen." "I made this dress specially..." "Now, Lyra." Another memory crashed over me as I hurried away. ~~~ *At twelve, I stood in Father's study doorway, clutching my straight-A report card.* *Inside, Mona showed Father her mostly B report. "Look at my history grade. The teacher said I have natural talent."* *Father beamed. "That's my girl. Smart as your mother was."* *I stepped forward. "Father? I got my grades too."* *He glanced up, smile fading. "Leave it on the desk. I'll look later."* *"But I got all..."* *"I said later, Lyra. Mona and I are talking."* *That night, I found my report in the trash, unread.* ~~~ I changed into my only good dress, a plain blue thing that would earn more of Linda's scorn. Roman entered, already dressed in his formal pack clothes. "That's what you're wearing?" "It's all I have." "Whatever. Just don't embarrass me in front of the visiting packs." The gathering passed in a blur of fake smiles and whispers. I stood beside Roman like a statue, speaking only when forced to. "Such a shame about your sister," one visiting Beta said. "Any change in her condition?" "None yet." "Such a tragedy. Accidents can be so... unexpected." Roman stiffened. "It wasn't an accident." The woman's eyes lit up with delight. "Oh? How awful!" My face burned with shame. Every conversation became another chance for everyone to see me as the monster who hurt Mona. During dinner, I tried once more to earn approval by helping serve the elders. As I offered bread to an elderly Alpha, Roman grabbed my wrist. "Stop hovering," he hissed. "You're making everyone uncomfortable." "I'm just trying to help." "Well, don't. Sit down and shut up. That would help the most." I retreated to my seat as another memory surfaced. ~~~ *At fifteen, I stood in the shadows of a pack celebration, watching Mona dance with young males. Father looked on with pride as Roman asked Mona to dance.* *"They make a perfect pair," a pack elder said to Father. "The Beta's daughter and the Alpha's son."* *Father nodded. "Mona was born for this role. She has her mother's grace."* *"And your other daughter?"* *Father's face hardened. "Lyra takes after my side. More... practical."* *Later, when I asked to join the dancing, Father shook his head. "Someone needs to help in the kitchen."* *So while Mona danced with the future Alpha, I washed dishes in a back room, listening to music and laughter I couldn't join.* ~~~ The gathering finally ended near midnight. As the last guests left, I began gathering empty glasses. "Leave that," Linda ordered. "The servers will handle it." "I don't mind helping." "I said leave it. Haven't you done enough damage for one night?" I froze. "Damage? What did I do wrong?" Linda laughed, a sound like shattering glass. "What didn't you? The flowers were a disaster. Your dress looked like a servant's. You hovered around guests like a beggar." "The Alpha from the Northern Pack asked if my son had lost a bet, ending up with you instead of Mona." Her smile twisted with cruelty. "I had no good answer." "The flowers were beautiful," I said quietly. "Three different guests told me so." "Pity compliments. Go home, Lyra. You've embarrassed us enough." The walk back to the cabin felt endless. Inside, I collapsed onto the couch, my bed since the wedding night. Every attempt to belong, to help, to earn even a scrap of kindness, had been thrown back in my face like garbage. The door opened and Roman entered. "Your mother thinks I ruined everything," I said, too tired to care. Roman stood silent for a moment. "The flowers looked good." The unexpected almost-compliment stunned me speechless. "Don't look so shocked," he muttered. "I can recognize when something's done right." "Thank you for saying that." Roman paused at the bedroom door. "It changes nothing between us." "I know." After he left, I stared at the ceiling, a strange calm settling over me. I'd tried so hard today, worked until my body screamed in pain, smiled through cruel words, endured one humiliation after another. Just as I had my entire life. Always begging for scraps of love, approval, acceptance. Always going hungry. Something shifted inside me then, something deep and final. A lifetime of starving for love had left me hollow. Perhaps it was time to feed myself with something else. As sleep pulled me under, Mona's face floated in my mind, perfect, golden Mona who had everything I'd ever wanted without even trying. Mona, who even unconscious commanded love and loyalty I would never know. For the first time, I let myself feel something beyond hurt and longing. Pure, burning rage. The emotion blazed through my chest, unfamiliar but warming my frozen soul. I didn't push it away. I welcomed it like an old friend. Chapter 5 LYRA POV A scream tore through the pack house at dawn, ripping me from sleep. I bolted upright on the couch, my chest heaving. Footsteps thundered past the cabin toward the main building. Then more voices. Shouting. The kind of noise that meant something massive was unfolding. I pushed my feet into shoes and followed the commotion. Pack members rushed toward the hospital wing, their expressions twisted between terror and something else. Hope, maybe. My stomach knew before my mind caught up. The hallway outside Mona's room packed with bodies. I stood at the edge of the crowd, trying to see past shoulders and necks. Through gaps, I caught movement. Hospital equipment. People clustered around the bed. "It's happened," someone whispered, trembling. "After three months," another voice replied. Only one thing could make them sound like that. I pushed forward but pack members shifted, closing ranks against me. Still, I squeezed through enough to see. Mona was sitting up. My sister lay propped on pillows, her golden hair hanging limp around her pale shoulders. Those blue eyes, Father's eyes, were open and moving. A nurse held her steady while a doctor checked the monitors. "Remarkable recovery," the doctor muttered, making notes. He glanced at Mona, then at the monitors, his expression shifting into something thoughtful. A small crease appeared between his brows. Rose shoved through the crowd, her perfectly styled hair now disarranged from rushing. She grabbed Mona's hand first, before anyone else, her elegant face cracking open. "My daughter. My precious daughter." She kept repeating it, kissing Mona's forehead, her temple, anywhere she could reach. "Mother," Mona whispered, her voice hoarse from weeks of silence. Roman stood frozen in the doorway. Just Mona's name, and he moved toward her like she was pulling him on invisible strings. He dropped to his knees beside her bed and pressed her hand against his forehead in a gesture so intimate it felt wrong to witness. "You came back," he breathed. Alpha Kenneth placed a hand on Mona's shoulder. "How are you feeling?" "Weak. Confused." Her scratchy voice cut through the murmuring crowd. "Three months," her mother answered, stroking her cheek. "Three months of prayers." Mona's eyes widened. "Three months?" Her gaze began scanning the room, moving across faces, taking in the monitors, the calendar on the wall. Then her attention found me, half-hidden at the edge of the crowd. Her entire body went rigid. "You," she hissed, and the word came out like a curse. That single syllable froze my blood. Her finger jabbed through the air toward me, trembling with effort. "What is she doing here?" The crowd shifted. Every eye turned toward me. I felt their judgment like physical weight pressing down. "Get her out," Rose's voice came sharp as a blade. "How dare she show her face here?" "Family only," Linda added, her mouth twisted with disgust. I stepped backward but Mona's voice stopped me. "No. Let her stay." Her voice grew stronger. "Let her face what she's done." The room seemed to hold its breath. "She pushed me," Mona continued, and the words hung in the air like poison gas. "Down the stairs. She tried to kill me." Silence crashed down. Even the heart monitor seemed to pause. The doctor's pen stopped moving. He looked at Mona, then back at the monitors, his frown deepening slightly. Something in his expression suggested he was calculating, wondering, running information through his mind. "What?" Alpha Kenneth's voice came low and dangerous. Mona's eyes never left mine, burning with something that wasn't quite memory. "We argued at the top of the stairs. She said she wanted you, Roman. Said if she couldn't have you, neither could I." Mona's voice cracked. "Then she pushed. Hard. I felt her hands on my back." "No," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I wasn't there." "LIAR!" Mona shrieked, and the sound shattered something inside my chest. "I felt you push me. I remember falling. The walls spinning. The pain when I hit the ground." Rose lunged toward me but a pack member caught her arm. "You monster. I knew from the moment you came into our lives that you were poison. Evil. I told your father you'd destroy us." "I didn't," I tried again, but my voice disappeared under the noise. Roman rose slowly. When he turned to face me, his expression had changed into something I'd never seen before. Not just anger. Complete devastation. As if I'd killed something in him. But for a fraction of a second, something else flickered across his features. A hesitation. A tiny crack in his certainty. Then it hardened again into stone. "Remove her," he ordered the guards. Two warriors grabbed my arms. Their fingers dug into my skin hard enough to bruise as they dragged me backward through the hallway. Pack members stepped aside, their faces twisted. Someone spat near my feet. Another hissed "murderer" as I passed. "Please," I struggled against their grip. "Ask Martha. She was in the kitchen with me. She'll tell you I wasn't on the stairs." No one listened. The holding cell sat in the basement of the pack house, a concrete box that had once housed young wolves who couldn't control their shift. Now it would hold me. The warriors shoved me inside. The heavy door swung shut and locked with a sound that belonged to the end of the world. "Trial at noon tomorrow," one of them growled through the barred window. "Alpha will decide your fate then." Alone in the cold space, I sank to the floor. Hours passed. Through the small window, daylight faded. No one brought water or food. I was already erased. The door opened near evening. I expected Roman, ready to declare his hate. Instead, Rose filled the doorway, her beautiful face twisted beyond recognition. "Happy now?" she spat, stepping into the cell. "My daughter is awake, but the doctors say her legs may never work properly. Her balance is destroyed. Her body ruined." I stood slowly, keeping distance between us. "I didn't push her." "Don't you dare speak my name!" Her manicured finger jabbed toward my face. "I've watched you since you were children. Always watching her with jealousy burning in your eyes. Always hating that your father loved her more than you." "He made me feel like nothing," I replied quietly. "You ARE nothing!" Rose stepped closer, her perfume thick enough to choke on. "A dull, empty girl trying to destroy the brilliant daughter you could never be." "Her memory is wrong. Her mind created false images while she was asleep." The slap came fast, her hand stinging my cheek with surprising strength. "Don't suggest my daughter lies or confuses reality," Rose hissed. "The pack will execute you tomorrow. And I'll watch it happen with joy in my heart." She turned to leave, then paused at the threshold. "You spent your entire life trying to win your father's love, never understanding you could never compete with Mona. Tomorrow you'll die knowing you failed at everything." The door slammed shut. Later, Roman appeared. His hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled like he'd slept in them or not slept at all. His eyes looked hollow. "Tell me why," he demanded. "I can't tell you something I didn't do." "STOP LYING!" He slammed his fist against the concrete wall, making me flinch. "Mona remembers every detail. Your argument. Your jealousy. The push." "I was in the kitchen that afternoon. Martha was with me. We were preparing dinner." "Martha left early that day. There's no one to verify your story." My heart sank. Martha had gone to visit her sister. I'd forgotten that detail completely. "Why would Mona accuse you if it wasn't true?" Roman pressed. But something in the way he asked it felt different from Rose's certainty. Like he was trying to convince himself as much as interrogate me. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked away from my eyes. "She remembers the push," he continued, but his voice carried less conviction than before. "She described your argument." "People's memories aren't always accurate. After a coma, her mind could have created images that feel real but aren't." For just a fraction of a second, I saw something cross his face. Not acceptance of my words, but acknowledgment. The same doubt I'd glimpsed in Chapter 3 when he realized nobody actually witnessed what happened. Then he shut it down. "No," he said flatly. "Mona doesn't lie." "But she could be wrong. There's a difference." He stared at me for a long moment, and in that silence, I thought I saw him battling something internal. Something that wanted to believe in Mona's truth but remembered another truth from before. The truth that he'd never actually seen me push her. "The trial is tomorrow at noon," Roman said finally, his voice empty. "If found guilty, the pack will execute you. That's law for attempted murder." Execution. The word was a physical blow. "Please," I whispered. "You know me. You know I wouldn't..." He turned toward the cell door without answering. But as he paused at the threshold, I saw his shoulders tense. His hand gripped the frame hard enough that his knuckles whitened. For one moment, he looked back at me, and something unspoken passed between us. Uncertainty. Conflict. The terrible weight of not knowing what was true. Then he left without waiting for a response. Hours later, Father appeared. He stood in the doorway like a ghost, his face hidden in shadow. "Did you do it?" His voice sounded hollow. Empty. "No," I answered simply. He sighed, the kind of sigh that came from a person defeated by life. "Mona's description was detailed. She remembered everything." "She's confused. Her brain was damaged. I wasn't even on the stairs." "You were always jealous of her," he said quietly. The words hurt in a way I wasn't prepared for. "And whose fault is that?" My voice cracked. "You made sure I knew every single day that she mattered more. That she was special. That I was just... extra." He flinched but didn't argue. "The trial begins at noon," he said instead, turning to leave. "Prepare yourself." "Wait," I called out. "Does it matter to you? That I might die?" He paused at the threshold. For one moment, I thought I saw something like regret in his expression. But he walked out without answering, the door closing softly behind him. I lay back on the concrete floor, staring at the ceiling. Through the small window, the moon had risen nearly full, its light streaming through in a thin silver line. Tomorrow it would witness my trial. Maybe my execution. No one was coming to help me. No one believed me. But as I lay there in the darkness, something else rose inside me. Not hope. Something harder. Colder. Survival. If Mona had crafted this lie, she'd done it well. But lies could crack if you found the right pressure point. Memory could be questioned. Evidence could be presented. Tomorrow at noon, I would stand before the pack and fight for my life. And I would not go quietly into death. Chapter 6 LYRA POV Harsh light stabbed through the tiny window and woke me from broken sleep on the cold cell floor. Every muscle hurt. My mouth felt like sand. Today was the trial. Today the pack would decide if I lived or died. The door banged open. Two female warriors walked in with hard faces. "Get up," the taller one said. "You need to clean yourself before trial." They marched me to a small washroom. I splashed icy water on my face while they watched. My hands shook too much to untangle my hair. The mirror showed someone I did not know. Sunken eyes. Cracked lips. A hollow face. Was this really me? "Hurry up," the second guard snapped. "Everyone is waiting." I patted my face dry with a rough towel. "Will I get to speak? To defend myself?" The two women glanced at each other. That look made my stomach drop. "The Alpha decides who speaks," the first one said, not meeting my eyes. They led me through dark hallways toward the main pack hall. The corridors that were normally busy stood empty. Everyone had already gathered to watch me be condemned. My legs went weak with each step closer to judgment. The noise hit me first. Hundreds of voices, like angry bees. When the doors opened, silence dropped so fast it hurt my ears. The pack hall had once celebrated weddings and victories. Today it existed only to condemn me. It looked like a chamber built for one purpose. Alpha Kenneth sat high on his chair. Linda sat beside him, her eyes bright with something dark. My father sat to the left, his face empty, his gaze fixed on the wall above my head. Roman stood near the front of the crowd, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack. Behind him the pack filled every space, their faces hungry. They wanted blood. My blood. My guards pushed me toward a wooden platform at the center. I stepped onto it and felt hundreds of eyes burning into my skin. "Lyra, daughter of Marcus," Alpha Kenneth's voice boomed through the hall, "you stand accused of trying to murder Mona, daughter of Marcus. How do you plead?" My throat closed. I had to swallow twice before the word came out. "Innocent." It was small, but angry whispers broke out across the crowd at once. "Silence," Alpha Kenneth commanded, and the room froze. He pointed to the side, where Dr. Marshall stood beside a wheelchair. Mona sat in it, pale and small as a bird, her hands limp in her lap. Rose stood behind the chair, one hand on her daughter's shoulder like she owned her. "Mona will tell us what happened," Alpha Kenneth said. Rose wheeled her forward. Mona wore a plain white dress, the kind that said innocent victim without needing words. Her golden hair framed her face like a halo. Even after months in a coma, she looked beautiful. I looked like something thrown away. "Three months ago," Mona began, her voice soft but clear, "I was getting ready for my wedding to Roman. I was in the upstairs hallway when Lyra came to me." She paused and took a shaky breath. Rose squeezed her shoulder. "She seemed angry. I asked what was wrong. I tried to be kind, even though things were hard between us. That's when she exploded." My nails bit into my palms. I kept my face still while she spun her lies. "She said I had stolen everything from her. Father's love. Roman's attention. Her place in the pack. She said I did not deserve to be Luna." Mona's voice cracked. "I tried to walk away. I told her we could talk once she calmed down. That's when she said if she couldn't have Roman, neither would I." Gasps ran through the room. Mona's eyes filled with tears right on cue. "I felt her hands on my back, pushing hard. I remember falling. The stairs rushing up at me. I tried to grab something, anything." A tear slid down her cheek. "Then nothing, until I woke up yesterday." Rose squeezed her daughter's shoulder again and shot me a look of pure hate. "Thank you, Mona," Alpha Kenneth said gently. Then he turned to me, his face hardening. "Lyra, what do you have to say?" Every eye moved to me. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. "I was not there," I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected. "I was in the kitchen making dinner when Mona fell. I heard the crash and ran to find her at the bottom of the stairs." Angry murmurs rose around me. "Do you have anyone who can confirm where you were?" Alpha Kenneth asked. I hesitated. "Martha was with me earlier, but she left to visit her sister. I was alone." "How convenient," Linda said, loud enough for the whole hall to hear. "It is the truth," I insisted, searching the crowd for one face that did not hate me. There was none. Rose stepped forward, shaking with anger. "My daughter has no reason to lie. Lyra has every reason. Jealousy. Bitterness. Anger at seeing my Mona have what should have been hers." The crowd nodded along. Rose had always been respected. Her words landed like law. "I have watched this girl for years," she went on, playing to the crowd like a performer. "Always hiding in corners. Always glaring at my daughter. Always hating her light. Is it any surprise her darkness finally struck?" "That is not true!" I cried, but my voice disappeared under the noise. "We have all seen it!" "Always jealous!" "Never belonged!" Alpha Kenneth raised his hand and silence returned. "Lyra, if you were not on the stairs, how do you explain Mona's clear memory of what happened?" he asked. "I cannot," I admitted, feeling the noose pull tighter. "Maybe the fall confused her memory, or" "Are you calling my daughter a LIAR?" Rose's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Or confused," I finished, standing taller. "Brain injuries can affect memory." Dr. Marshall cleared his throat. "While that is possible, Mona's memory has stayed clear and consistent. She has repeated the same details many times." My stomach dropped. Even the doctor stood against me. Alpha Kenneth nodded. "Does anyone wish to speak in Lyra's defense?" Silence fell like a stone. I searched the room for anyone who might doubt my guilt. My father stared at his hands and said nothing. "Father," I said, unable to hide the plea in my voice. "You raised me. Do you truly believe I would do this?" Every eye turned to him. He lifted his head slowly, pain carved into every line of his face. "The evidence speaks for itself," he said. "Mona has no reason to lie." His words cut deeper than any blade. My last hope died with them. "What about the timing?" I grasped at anything. "Why would I push her weeks before I was forced to marry Roman? It makes no sense." "Perhaps you did not expect to take her place," Linda said with a cold smile. "Perhaps you only wanted to hurt her out of spite." The crowd swallowed this easily, nodding as if she had revealed some great truth. Roman stepped forward, his face tight with barely held fury. "I have listened to both sides. I have known Mona my whole life. She is honest. She could not build such a lie." His eyes locked onto mine, cold enough to freeze blood. "I have lived beside Lyra these past weeks. I have felt her resentment. She pushed Mona. I have no doubt." The room erupted in agreement until Alpha Kenneth pounded his staff for quiet. "As pack law requires, the decision rests with the victim and her family," he announced once the noise settled. "Mona, what justice do you seek?" Mona looked up at me, blue eyes swimming with practiced tears. "I do not want revenge," she said softly. "I only want our pack to be safe. Whatever the Alpha thinks is right." Perfect. Merciful on the surface, while leaving the real decision to the people who wanted me dead. "Rose?" Alpha Kenneth prompted. Mona's mother stepped forward, chin high. "Pack law is clear. Attempted murder deserves death. Nothing less would be justice." She turned toward me, her voice rising. "My daughter may never walk properly again because of this creature's jealousy. Mercy would only mock her suffering." The crowd roared its approval. Rose stepped back, a small smile on her lips. "Linda?" Alpha Kenneth turned to his mate. Linda rose with practiced grace. "We welcomed Lyra into our family despite our doubts. We gave her chance after chance, and she brought us only shame." She faced the crowd. "Our pack survives because our laws mean something. Death is the only fitting answer for a girl who tried to kill her own sister." Feet stomped against the floor. The sound pounded in my skull. Alpha Kenneth raised a hand for quiet. "Roman, as Mona's intended mate, you may also speak." Roman's face stayed hard. "A quick death would be more mercy than she deserves." My knees nearly buckled. I already knew they hated me, but hearing them ask for my death out loud sent darkness creeping into the edges of my sight. "And you, Marcus?" Alpha Kenneth asked my father. "As her father, you may request mercy." The hall went completely still. This was his chance. My only chance. If he spoke for me, others might have second thoughts. Father rose slowly, looking a hundred years old. "Mona is my daughter," he began, and something in my chest cracked further. "Her suffering these past months..." He stopped, glanced at me, then at Rose, then at the floor. His hands curled into fists at his sides. For one moment I thought he might say something else. Then his shoulders dropped. "I cannot ask for her death. But neither can I defend her actions." He drew a slow breath. "I abstain from this decision and accept the pack's judgment." He sat back down and would not look at me again. He had not condemned me. He had not saved me. He had simply erased me, the way he always had. Alpha Kenneth nodded gravely. "I have heard everyone. Based on the evidence, and by pack law, I find Lyra guilty of attempting to murder Mona." A wave of approval rolled through the hall. "The sentence will be carried out at moonrise tomorrow," he continued. "Death by silver blade, as our laws demand for crimes against pack members." Tomorrow. My last day alive. "Do you have any final words before you return to your cell?" Alpha Kenneth asked. I looked out at the hall. At my father's downcast eyes. At Roman's cold stare. At Mona's tears. "I am innocent," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I did not push Mona. Someday the truth will come out." "Take her away," Alpha Kenneth ordered. As the guards took my arms, Rose stepped into my path, triumph blazing in her eyes. "You should have stayed in your place," she hissed. "Always reaching above yourself. Tomorrow you will finally learn your limits." Linda joined her, both women blocking the way like a pair of gatekeepers. "The pack will be cleansed tomorrow," Linda said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "The threat to my future daughter-in-law removed for good." "Cut out like the poison she is," Rose agreed, glowing with satisfaction. "My daughter will take her rightful place, and no one will remember you existed." They turned to the Alpha. "We request to witness the execution up close," Linda said. "As the women she harmed." "To be certain justice is truly served," Rose added. "Granted," Alpha Kenneth said. The two women looked back at me, victory shining in their eyes. "Enjoy your last night," Rose whispered. "We will be counting the minutes until dawn." The guards dragged me away. Their words burned in my ears until the doors slammed shut behind us and the sounds of the pack preparing for tomorrow fell silent. My execution.
Not enough history yet to show a trend.