the Triplets' Silent Mate

Ayla’s POV Snow falls in a slow, quiet drift all around me—not in the kind of way that would make it look magical. Just… endless, and white, and cold. It settles over everything, the trees, the ground, and rooftops, like it’s trying to cover things up. Like if it piles high enough, no one will remember what’s buried underneath. Like blood has never soaked into the ground beneath my feet. The cold bites through my thin, worn hoodie. I tug it tighter anyway, more out of habit. It wasn’t nearly enough to keep me warm. The cold in me is bone-deep. I tried to shake it off and turn my focus to something else—the scent of pine trees filled my nostrils, the air smelling fresh and clean. The smell of smoke came from the packhouse, yet there was always something luring just underneath. Something sharp, something with a metallic scent—it reminded me of the smell of blood, even when there isn’t any. I stop at the edge of the road, my gaze drifting toward the packhouse. It glows ahead, warm, jolly, and inviting. Everything that I avoid. My gaze snaps toward a group standing at the packhouse entrance as laughter filled the air. Real laughter is easy and loud, and it hits something in my chest. I gasped. I can't remember if I have ever laughed that way. I quickly pushed the feelings and thoughts to the side. I will not pity myself. I will not react and feel sad. I step closer. Not urgently. I am always the last one to arrive. I keep to the shadows. My nostrils flare, and I freeze. Something twists inside me. The smell fills the air—rich, warm, impossible to ignore. It comes from the packhouse—roasted meat, potatoes, and something sweet—like cinnamon. Probably a pumpkin pie. My chest tightens before I can stop it, and I breathe heavily. Numbness settles in for a moment. Christmas. The day I hate the most. I swallow, trying to shake the feeling. Tears fill my eyes as sadness settles into my bones. Because of what it’s supposed to mean. And I didn’t have that. Family. The word held no more meaning to me. A group brushes past me on their way to the packhouse, their shoulders bumping into mine without slowing. One of them clips me harder than the rest. “Hey, watch it!" He yells, turning around to face me. His gaze catches mine, and a sneer follows on his lips. I steady myself and look down. It was easier like that. Avoid all contact. Don’t look up. Keep a low profile. “Don’t bother,” another boy says. “It’s just the mute stray. You won’t get anything out of her.” They laugh like it’s nothing. I was five when I stopped speaking. As if not speaking means I don’t feel. I keep my eyes down and I don't react. I've learned early in my life to just ignore; reacting just gives them fuel to work with. I don’t remember deciding to. It just… happened. It felt as if a switch had been flicked off and never turned back on. What I do remember comes in flashes. A huge angry fire, consuming all. The smell of burning fur, blood, and smoke so thick it stuck in my throat. My mother’s hand slipped from mine; it was covered in thick blood. Her eyes lose their light—go dim. My father’s voice calling out to me, and then nothing. Silence. My body tenses as a memory flashes: a set of red eyes set on me, and I shiver. I always believed it was rogues who had destroyed my pack, but some days I wonder if it wasn't something else. I can't remember anything clearly; it was years ago. The rest of the memory was tucked away with my voice. A shiver runs through me, sharp enough to make me tense. I push it down, like always. There’s no space for that here. “Hey. Mute.” My shoulders tense before I can stop them. I don’t turn. I don’t need to. I know who it is. Their footsteps are slow and purposeful, like they want me to hear every step. It vibrates through my body. My heart rate escalates; it beats so loudly it hurts, but I do not dare run. They will chase after me like wild wolves and make me their prey. The air changes when they get closer; somehow it's heavier, dominant, and warmer, but not in a way that helps. The triplets. They always move together. The three brothers could have been the same person. They look the same at first glance. Same height. Same dark hair. Too perfect. Like copies. Their blue eyes bore into you. Kael steps into my view first. He doesn’t rush. He never does. Everything about him feels deliberate—like he’s already decided how this will go. His eyes find mine immediately. They are cold, icy blue that looks right through me. Even before the title—Alpha—is officially his, it already sits on him like it belongs there. Ryker comes up beside him, already smiling like this is the best part of his night. It probably is. He will be Kael’s Beta when they take over the pack. Soren lingers just behind them, the quiet brother who is always watching. Keeping his distance and never taking part—not that it helps. “Well?” Ryker tilts his head slightly to pin my gaze under the hoodie. A taunting, cold smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His blue eyes darken with excitement. “Did she go deaf too, or is she ignoring you?” Before I can shift back, a hand grips my shoulder and spins me toward them. Too fast. My balance slips, but Kael keeps me in place. He doesn’t let go right away; his brows furrow as if he's searching for something tonight. For a moment, he just stares into my eyes, his body heat filling the space between us even through the cold. It makes me more aware of how frozen I am. “Answer him,” Ryker sneers, his eyes never leaving me. Then he laughs under his breath. “Right. Forgot." Laughter erupts from behind them. I don’t look to see who joined in. I drop my gaze instead. Not because I can’t face them. Because I won’t give them what they’re looking for. “Pathetic,” Kael says, and scoffs, pushing me back with force into a heap of snow. “You know,” Ryker says, shifting his head to the crowd behind them. “It’s kind of impressive. Thirteen years and not a word.” He leans in. “Do you even remember how?" Someone behind him snorts. “Maybe she never could.” The remark ripples through me and spikes another round of laughter. It echoes more than it should—especially today. I don’t react. I haven’t in years. It’s easier that way. They will get bored soon and leave me alone. Soren’s gaze lingers on me longer than usual. Not mocking. Not kind either. Just… there. Like he’s trying to figure out something. His eyebrows knit in frustration. Why doesn't he just ask the questions? Why doesn't he just say it? A long and loud howl fills the air; it cuts through everything, making them freeze. Kael’s eyes flicker to me. “Don’t wander off,” he says. “We’re not dealing with you tonight.” Ryker snorts. “Maybe find yourself a new place to stay. This freeloading thing? Yeah. It’s done.” They turn like I’m already gone. Like I don’t matter. Soren hesitates for just a moment, his gaze flickering between me and his brothers. Then, he silently follows behind them. And just like that, it’s quiet again. I push myself out of the snow and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My hands were trembling, not from cold, but in fear. I press them against my hoodie until they stop. It’s fine. It’s always fine. I’ve lived through worse than this. The space around me feels bigger now that they’re gone. Emptier. Colder. The packhouse still glows in the distance, full of warmth I don’t get to touch. Warm and joyful laughter drifts out every time the door opens, then fades again. I stay where I am. Where I belong. Outside. I'm not welcome inside. Something inside me shifts suddenly. I frown slightly, hand pressing against my chest before I even think about it. It’s not pain. Not exactly. Just an unfamiliar feeling. It feels like something is moving in a place where nothing has moved in a long time. I take a slow breath to calm myself. It's probably just my nerves. Something stirs, and for a second, I think I’m imagining it. But I’m not. Because deep inside I know what it means—my wolf has awakened. She suddenly moves, and I stiffen; it wasn't nearly time yet. The packhouse door opens, and I feel gentle eyes land on me. "Ayla," Luna Ria called. "Come, dear child. Everyone is waiting." My gaze slowly raises to meet hers. I gave her a faint nod before moving. But I already know something has changed, and whatever happens next—there's no going back. ****