The Quiet month
812 Words
Rowan’s POV
A full month had passed since we carried her broken body into the infirmary.
Long enough for the pack to forget her again.
That was how it worked here. Wolves remembered spectacle, not survival. Once the blood was cleaned and the whispers grew old, omegas faded back into the corners where they belonged.
Mira had blended into the background perfectly.
She moved through the pack grounds quietly now, another head bowed low, another pair of hands completing tasks no one wanted. Laundry. Sweeping. Water runs. Kitchen cleaning. Work meant to remind omegas of their place.
I should have stopped noticing her.
Yet my eyes found her before my mind allowed it.
She was supposed to still be weak. Omegas without a wolf healed poorly—slow muscles, uneven balance, shallow breaths that lingered for weeks. She should have been stiff, favoring one side, dragging slightly when she thought no one was watching.
That was what the pack saw.
But that was not what I saw.
Her posture was too straight. Controlled. When she lifted buckets, her shoulders did not tremble the way they should. When she bent to sweep, her breathing evened out faster than expected.
Small things. Easy to miss.
But I had not risen to lead this pack by ignoring small things.
I found her in the courtyard that afternoon, sunlight breaking across the stone in scattered warmth. She was sweeping slowly and deliberately, choosing a pace that would never draw attention. Not weak. Careful.
Gentle enough to invite dismissal.
Her hair slipped over her shoulder as she bent. She winced—just once—but smoothed it away almost immediately. That was too practiced.
She sensed me before I spoke.
She always did.
“Alpha,” she said, bowing low.
The courtyard stilled.
That was the difference. When I stepped into a space, it changed. Conversations died. Movements slowed. Wolves became aware of themselves.
King of this pack or not, my presence carried weight.
“You should not be doing heavy tasks,” I said, my voice flat. Not unkind. Not soft. Simply law. “Your body is still recovering.”
“I am better now,” she replied quickly. “I can work. It is my duty.”
Duty.
She said that word often. Like a shield. Like an apology.
Her fingers tightened around the broom handle. “I am only helping a little. I do not wish to be a burden.”
Before I could respond, I caught the familiar scent.
Sweet. Sharp. Deliberate.
Selene.
She approached with measured confidence, perfume announcing her before her steps did. When she noticed Mira, her gaze slid over her like she was inspecting something that didn’t belong.
“Alpha,” Selene said smoothly, holding out parchment. “The updated patrol schedule. I thought you would want to review it before evening rounds.”
I did not take it immediately.
Mira stepped back at once, shrinking inward, eyes lowering. Her shoulders tensed under Selene’s attention, though she said nothing.
Selene noticed.
“I’m surprised she’s already outside working,” Selene added lightly. “Injuries like hers usually take much longer to heal.”
“She is doing what she can manage,” I replied.
Selene’s eyes flicked to Mira again. “If you say so.”
Mira clasped her hands together. “I will stop if I am not permitted.”
Her voice trembled just enough to convince anyone listening.
Except me.
“You are not doing anything wrong,” I said.
The words were plain. Unsoftened. Yet Selene’s smile tightened immediately.
“Omegas like her shouldn’t be outside alone,” Selene said. “Others may misunderstand. They might think she’s being favoured.”
“There is nothing to misunderstand,” I replied.
A pause.
Selene’s jaw clenched for a heartbeat before she masked it. “Of course.”
I took the schedule from her.
“Return to the hall,” I said. “I will meet you there.”
She bowed stiffly. “As you wish, Alpha.”
When she left, Mira’s shoulders eased slightly, barely noticeable unless you were watching for it.
“You do not need to fear her,” I said.
Mira lowered her gaze again. “She is ranked. I am not. That is reason enough.”
She bent to gather the fallen leaves, moving with care, favouring weakness without truly embodying it.
My wolf stirred.
Not in anger. Not in hunger.
In recognition.
This was not an attachment. I did not allow myself that luxury. This was something colder. Sharper.
Curiosity.
The way she sensed footsteps before sound. The way her strength appeared and vanished like a thing she controlled rather than lacked.
I kept my face impassive.
But my thoughts lingered.
Mysteries had no place beneath my roof.
And Mira was becoming one I would not ignore.
I would find out why.
- Writer
