Claimed By My Best Friend's Alpha Daddy

Fractured Family

Myra's POV

The bus ride from campus to my mother’s small house on the outskirts of the neutral territory felt longer than usual. Golden afternoon light filtered through the windows, but it did nothing to ease the heaviness settling in my chest. I had done well today—aced another quiz, submitted a paper early, and handled Jax’s usual comments without letting them get under my skin. On the outside, I looked composed. Inside, everything felt fragile.

I pushed open the front door. The familiar scent of the house—old herbs and something heavier, like lingering sadness—settled over me immediately. Mom was in the kitchen, standing over a pot that had clearly been left too long. Her hair hung limp around her shoulders. The past year had carved deep lines into her face.

“You’re back,” she said without turning around. “Took your time. Busy playing house with those fancy Thorns again?”

I set my bag down carefully. “I had classes, Mom. Exams are coming up.”

She let out a short, bitter laugh and finally faced me. Her eyes were sharp with old pain.

“Classes. Right. While your brother is gone. A whole year, Myra. One year since he died, and you’re still moving through life like nothing changed. Like it wasn’t your fault.”

The words hit hard. I stood frozen in the doorway, throat tight.

My twin brother, Elias.

Gone.

The guilt I carried every day rose up again, heavy and familiar. I replayed the same questions I always did—what I should have said, what I should have done, whether I could have stopped him. Mom never let me forget.

“I miss him too,” I said quietly. “Every day.”

“Do you?” She set the spoon down hard. “You were supposed to look out for each other. Twins. But you weren’t there when it mattered. Now I’m left with the one who lived. The perfect student who couldn’t protect her own brother. Get out of my sight, Myra. I can’t look at you without seeing what I lost.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I forced them down and went upstairs to my old room. The door closed behind me with a soft click. The walls felt closer than they should have. Posters from our childhood still hung on the walls—Elias and me laughing, running through the woods in wolf form. His side of the room remained untouched, preserved like a quiet memorial. My chest tightened as the familiar panic began to rise.

*It was my fault.*

The thought looped without mercy. I sat on the edge of the bed, hands trembling. My heart raced. Breathing grew shallow and quick. The room seemed to tilt. If I had gone with him… if I had stopped him… A quiet sob escaped as the weight of it pressed down.

I lowered myself to the floor, forehead resting against the cool wood, trying to pull air into my lungs. Dark spots edged my vision.

*Breathe, Myra. Just breathe.*

I forced myself to use the technique my counselor had taught me months ago: inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for six. Again. And again. Slowly, the worst of the panic began to ease. In the middle of it, an uninvited thought surfaced—David. Not in any dramatic way, just the memory of his steady presence. The calm way he moved through a room. The quiet authority that somehow made everything feel more grounded. It was wrong to reach for thoughts of him in a moment like this, but the idea of that steadiness helped me hold on.

Eventually I sat up, wiping my face with shaking hands. I was not okay. But I had gotten through another attack.

Night had fallen by the time I felt steady enough to move. Mom had closed herself in her room. The house was silent. I knew I could not stay here much longer—not for another night, and certainly not for weeks of the same quiet cruelty. I picked up my phone and called Sophia.

She answered on the second ring. “Myra? Hey, what’s up?”

The sound of her voice—warm and familiar—broke something open. Tears came freely.

“Soph… I can’t do this anymore,” I managed. “Mom’s worse than ever. She’s blaming me for Elias again. I just had a panic attack, and I need to get out. Please.”

“Oh, Myra.” Her tone shifted immediately into concern. “I’m so sorry. Come back tonight. Stay as long as you need.”

I held the phone tighter. “Not just tonight. Can I stay the whole month? Until things settle here? I’ll help around the house, keep to myself, study quietly—whatever you need. I just can’t keep drowning in this every day.”

There was a short pause, then her voice softened. “Of course. You’re family to me. Dad won’t mind—he barely notices extra people half the time. Lila’s still here, but there’s plenty of space. Pack your things. I’ll send a car or come get you myself.”

Relief washed through me, mixed with something quieter and more complicated. A full month under the Thorn roof. Close to the one person whose presence unsettled me most. The guilt over Elias still sat heavily in my chest, but the thought of leaving this house brought a fragile kind of hope.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

After the call, I packed quickly—clothes, books, my laptop. Mom never came out. I left a short note on the kitchen counter so she would know I had gone, then waited by the window for the car.

As the headlights finally appeared, my thoughts drifted once more to the mansion. To David. To the careful distance that always remained between us. Home had become a place of sharp edges and old blame. The Thorn house held its own kind of tension—quieter, more complicated, and harder to name.

David still did not truly see me.

But for the next thirty days, I would be there. Close enough to notice. Close enough to feel the pull I could never quite silence.

And maybe, in that closeness, something would finally begin to shift.​