~Chapter Four~
1233 Words
“Step away from him.”
The command sliced through the air like a blade.
Darian’s gaze was unrelenting, cold as steel, as Nyara clutched Eliot to her chest. The boy trembled against her, his scraped arm staining her sleeve. His wide eyes darted between them, frightened and searching for safety.
Nyara’s breath hitched. She tightened her grip, every instinct screaming to protect her son. But the weight of Darian’s authority pressed down like chains, suffocating even her wolf. Slowly and painfully, she released Eliot.
Ever since she woke up as Elair, she kept seeing different sides of Darain she had never seen, she kept wondering if there was a part of him from the start or maybe something made him different after her death.
Eliot stood frozen, small shoulders stiff, his hand twitching at his side as though he longed to reach for her again but didn’t dare.
The silence was unbearable. Nyara’s heart cracked with every beat.
And then Liora’s voice cut through the moment, soft and trembling, perfectly crafted for pity.
“Alpha… you can’t let her stay here.” She clutched Darian’s arm, leaning close into him as if she belonged there. “Not in the same house as Eliot. If she’s willing to shove him once, what will stop her from doing worse next time?”
Her words dripped venom dressed as concern.
Nyara’s mouth opened, but Elair’s voice—the body’s voice—sounded weak, shaking, powerless. “I didn’t—”
“She’s unstable!” Liora cried louder, forcing every ear to hear. “Everyone knows it. If you let her stay, you’re endangering Eliot.”
Gasps rippled from the onlookers. Wolves whispered at the edges of the courtyard.
“Maybe Alpha Darian won’t punish his mistress…”
“What are you saying? Lady Liora is his Luna-to-be! That filth could never be—”
The rumors clashed and tangled, all spun from Liora’s poison.
“Darian said nothing. His silence was worse than a roar.
Nyara’s pulse pounded in her ears. She wanted to scream the truth, to tear the mask off Liora in front of them all—but in this body, in Elair’s skin, her words carried no weight.
“Enough!”.
The Alpha command shook the ground beneath their feet. Darian’s gaze was unyielding.
“She will return to her home. She enters this house only with my permission—or Knox’s.”
The decree landed like a sentence.
Nyara staggered back. *Her home?* The humiliation burned hot in her chest, sharper than any blade. She didn’t want to leave Eliot—not after finally holding him, she can't protect him from her home wherever that is. What if something like what happened today happens again?
But then another thought came in. *Elair’s house might hold answers. Clues to why she had woken in another’s skin. If the Moon Goddess had put her here, perhaps the truth lay buried there.*
Still, Darian’s gaze cut her like glass.
“It hasn’t even been a year since Nyara died,” he said, voice edged with contempt. “And yet you would raise a hand to her son.”
Nyara froze.
*Not even a year?*
The ground seemed to tilt beneath her. A year. She had been dead for an entire year. Her heart slammed against her ribs as the truth spiraled through her. A whole year stolen from her, a year her son had grown without her.
Her world blurred at the edges.
And in that moment of weakness, Liora brushed past her. Their shoulders touched, deliberate, and Liora’s breath ghosted against her ear as she whispered:
“You can never have him.”
The words stripped away the mask completely.
Rage and grief collided inside her chest, and memory pierced through the haze—
---
They had been children then. The sun had been high, the summer grass tall around them. Nyara remembered her laughter as Darian chased her through the meadow, the sound of children laughing filled the air. She had tripped, squealing, and he had caught her by the wrist, pulling her upright before she fell.
“You’re too clumsy,” he teased, grinning, eyes sparkling with boyish mischief.
“Then stop chasing me!” she had laughed, hitting him with a flower she’d plucked.
Liora had been there too, at first smiling, trailing behind with her own bouquet of wildflowers. But when Darian pulled Nyara closer, holding her steady, his eyes lingering on her face longer than necessary—her small smile fell.
Her small fists had clenched around the stems of her flowers, petals crumpling under her grip.
“You two always leave me out,” Liora had snapped, her voice sharp even at that age. “I don’t want to play anymore.”
“Don’t be silly, Liora,” Nyara had said, reaching toward her. “We’re all playing together—”
But Liora had spun away, storming toward the pack house, her braid bouncing furiously behind her.
Nyara had tried to call after her, confused. Darian only shrugged, muttering, “She’s always like that when she doesn’t get her way.”
It had been a fleeting moment then. A child’s tantrum. But now, as the memory replayed against the backdrop of Liora’s whispered venom, Nyara saw it differently.
The jealousy had been there all along. The mask had only grown sharper with age.
---
Nyara’s chest heaved as she blinked back to the present. Liora stood at Darian’s side, her grip on him possessive, her eyes glimmering with victory.
And Darian—he didn’t shove her away. He didn’t even look surprised.
Her heart ached. Elair was supposed to be whispered as his mistress, a shadow in his life, yet here was Liora, clinging to him openly, allowed to stand where only Nyara once belonged.
Had it always been her? When did this happen?
Before she could think further, Darian’s eyes glazed over, his expression tightening. He was mind-linking.
Moments later, Ayanna arrived, breathless, her warrior’s stance sharp, eyes scanning the scene.
Darian’s gaze snapped to her, cold and cutting.
“I told you to keep an eye on her,” he said, his tone laced with fury beneath its calm. “You failed.”
Ayanna stiffened under the rebuke. “I'm sorry Alpha, I…”.
“No excuses” he cut her off before she could complete her sentence.
Nyara’s heart sank further, she didn't want to get Ayana into trouble, but now she felt like she had no one to call her ally, no one to trust, she was alone in a foreign body.
She glanced at Eliot. He stood still, his scraped arm bleeding faintly, his lips pressed into a thin line. He dared not show any sign of weakness or pain in front of his father, he couldn't afford to.
Her son was being smothered by fear, silenced by threats she hadn’t been here to shield him from.
And she, trapped in another woman’s skin, stripped of her voice and her name, was powerless.
For now.
The courtyard closed in around her, eyes watching, whispers stirring, all of them believing Liora’s lies.
And as Darian turned away—letting Liora cling to him like the rightful one—Nyara felt the last thread of hope slip through her fingers.
The trap had closed.
And she had fallen straight into it.
---
- Writer
