Chapter 15: The Sister Moves First
1541 Words
Miriam had always known how to smile without warmth.
She stood before the polished bronze mirror in her chamber, fingertips brushing the crimson fabric of her gown as if it were a second skin. Red suited her. It always had. Not because it symbolized love—but because it demanded attention. Power. Possession.
Hadassah’s return had disrupted everything.
The pack whispered again. The elders hesitated. Even Abner—weak, spineless Abner—had begun to avoid her gaze. Worst of all, Eliakim had not dismissed Hadassah.
That single truth burned.
Miriam narrowed her eyes at her reflection. The woman staring back was still beautiful, still desired—but for the first time in years, uncertainty flickered beneath the surface.
She hated that.
“She should’ve stayed broken,” Miriam muttered.
The bond-breaking had been perfect. Public. Humiliating. Absolute. Hadassah was meant to disappear quietly into obscurity, carrying her shame like a scarlet mark. Not walk back into pack territory with her spine straight and her eyes sharp.
And certainly not draw the Alpha’s attention.
Miriam’s fingers curled into a fist.
If Hadassah wanted to play survivor… then Miriam would remind her who had always controlled the board.
The elders’ hall buzzed with tension long before Miriam arrived.
She entered deliberately late, the soft echo of her heels against stone drawing every eye toward her. Heads turned. Murmurs died. Sympathy bloomed where suspicion had once lived.
Good, she thought. Let them see me.
She inclined her head respectfully, her expression carefully arranged—grief-softened, humility-worn, and just fragile enough to invite concern.
“Elders,” Miriam greeted gently.
One of them nodded. “You asked for this audience.”
“Yes.” She hesitated, then clasped her hands together as if steadying herself. “I wouldn’t trouble the council if it weren’t… necessary.”
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Abner stiffen.
Perfect.
“I’m worried,” she continued quietly, voice trembling just enough. “About Hadassah.”
A ripple of surprise moved through the room.
Concern? For Hadassah?
Miriam lowered her gaze. “She’s been through so much. The bond-breaking, the exile, the… confusion.” She swallowed, visibly emotional. “I fear she’s not thinking clearly.”
An elder frowned. “Explain.”
“She came back different,” Miriam said. “Angrier. Calculating. And now… now she’s involving Alpha Eliakim.”
The name landed like a stone dropped into still water.
“She’s manipulating him,” Miriam pressed on softly. “I believe she’s using seduction to provoke conflict within the pack.”
A sharp intake of breath sounded.
“That’s a serious accusation,” an elder warned.
Miriam met his eyes, tears pooling but not falling. “I know. And I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t fear for everyone’s safety. Especially my father. And Abner.”
Abner shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.
“She wants revenge,” Miriam whispered. “And revenge makes people reckless.”
Silence followed.
Miriam felt it then—the subtle shift. Doubt seeping in. Seeds planted.
She hid her smile.
Hadassah sensed it before she heard it.
The pack’s energy felt… off. Watchful. Tight.
As she crossed the training grounds, conversations faltered. Eyes followed her. Not openly hostile—but cautious. Measuring.
She stopped near the well, gripping the stone edge as her wolf stirred uneasily.
Something moved against us, her wolf warned.
Hadassah exhaled slowly. “I know.”
She didn’t need to ask who.
Miriam had always struck first from the shadows.
A voice drifted toward her—two she-wolves whispering behind a nearby structure.
“…they say she’s after the Alpha’s favor…”
“…using the bond-breaking as leverage…”
“…dangerous, really…”
Hadassah closed her eyes briefly.
So this was Miriam’s play.
Paint her as unstable. Vindictive. A threat.
Classic.
She straightened and turned—only to freeze.
Eliakim stood across the courtyard, his posture rigid, jaw tight. Their eyes met, and something unreadable flickered across his expression.
Concern?
Conflict?
Or doubt?
The realization struck deeper than any insult.
Miriam hadn’t just attacked Hadassah’s reputation.
She’d gone after Eliakim’s trust.
Miriam waited until nightfall to make her final move.
She approached Eliakim’s quarters alone, wrapped in pale silk this time—soft colors, non-threatening. The guards hesitated but did not stop her. After all, she was still Abner’s mate. Still pack.
She bowed her head when Eliakim opened the door.
“Alpha,” she said quietly. “I won’t take much of your time.”
His eyes were sharp. Guarded. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.” She lifted her gaze, vulnerability perfectly curated. “But I couldn’t stay silent.”
He said nothing.
Miriam clasped her hands. “Hadassah hates me,” she confessed softly. “And I understand why. But her pain is… twisting her.”
Eliakim’s jaw tightened.
“She’s been asking questions,” Miriam continued. “About old laws. About your past. About… the bond.”
The air shifted.
“She’s trying to hurt Abner,” Miriam whispered. “Through you.”
That did it.
Eliakim’s eyes darkened, stormy and conflicted.
“I fear she’s setting a trap,” Miriam said gently. “And I fear you’re the one she intends to use.”
Silence stretched.
Miriam waited.
Finally, Eliakim spoke—low, controlled. “You should leave.”
She bowed her head obediently. “I only wanted to warn you.”
As she turned away, her lips curved faintly.
From the shadows across the courtyard, Hadassah watched Miriam disappear into the night.
Her chest burned—not with pain, but with clarity.
So that was it.
The sister had moved.
And she had aimed straight for the Alpha.
Hadassah’s wolf growled softly, eyes gleaming.
Then we stop playing defense.
Hadassah lifted her chin, moonlight catching in her eyes.
“No,” she whispered. “We finish this.”
Because Miriam had made one fatal mistake.
She assumed Hadassah was still the girl who ran into the forest crying.
She wasn’t.
And the war had officially begun.
The war had officially begun.
But wars were not won with claws alone.
Hadassah remained where she was long after Miriam vanished into the darkness. The night air felt heavier now, saturated with unspoken accusations and half-formed judgments. Somewhere in the distance, wolves howled—but even their voices sounded divided.
She exhaled slowly.
So Miriam had gone to the elders.
To the Alpha.
To anyone willing to listen.
The realization didn’t shock her. What unsettled her was how effective it already felt. The pack no longer looked at Hadassah with pity alone. There was fear now. Suspicion. The kind that spread quietly, infecting loyalties before truth ever had a chance to defend itself.
Her wolf bristled. They’re afraid of us.
“They should be,” Hadassah murmured. “But not for the reasons she’s feeding them.”
She turned toward the Alpha’s quarters, her steps slow and deliberate. Every instinct urged her to confront Eliakim—to demand honesty, to ask whether he believed the poison Miriam had poured into his ear.
But desperation was exactly what Miriam wanted her to show.
No.
Hadassah stopped herself.
Revenge didn’t begin with explanations.
It began with patience.
Inside his chambers, Eliakim stood motionless long after Miriam left.
Her words echoed in his mind like an unwanted chant.
Using you.
Trap.
Revenge.
He dragged a hand down his face, jaw clenched tight. He didn’t want to doubt Hadassah. Every instinct in him reacted to her presence with something ancient and undeniable—recognition, protectiveness, hunger.
But instinct had betrayed him before.
His former mate had worn devotion like armor while quietly tearing his heart apart.
And Miriam’s warning… it struck where old wounds still bled.
Eliakim crossed the room and stared out the window toward the training grounds.
Hadassah stood there alone, moonlight carving sharp lines across her figure.
She looked nothing like the unstable creature Miriam described.
She looked controlled.
Watching.
Waiting.
His chest tightened painfully.
If she is playing a game, he thought darkly, then she’s far more dangerous than Miriam knows.
And if she isn’t…
Then I am already failing her.
The thought unsettled him more than any accusation.
Elsewhere in the pack, Abner paced his quarters like a caged animal.
Miriam’s scent clung to the room—sweet, possessive, suffocating.
“You didn’t have to go that far,” he muttered.
She had smiled at him earlier. Kissed his cheek. Told him it was all for their future.
For their safety.
But deep down, a familiar guilt twisted in his gut.
Hadassah’s face haunted him. Not crying. Not begging.
Watching.
And that terrified him more than her tears ever had.
Hadassah finally moved, disappearing into the shadows between the trees.
She didn’t need allies yet.
She didn’t need forgiveness.
What she needed… was proof.
Proof of Miriam’s lies.
Proof of Abner’s cowardice.
Proof of the bond Eliakim could no longer deny.
And when the truth surfaced—when the moon itself refused to stay silent—
No amount of manipulation would save her sister.
Hadassah’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile as she vanished into the forest.
Let Miriam strike first.
The deeper the betrayal, the sweeter the reckoning.
- Writer
