Setting Free

Chapter 2: The Road Home

The morning after a reception always felt too still—like the world had held its breath overnight and forgotten how to exhale. Sofia sat at the edge of the long table, untouched fruit in front of her, still waiting to remember how to breathe.

Sunlight slanted through gauzy curtains, spilling warm gold across a table set with linen and glass. The scent of tea and oranges lingered in the air, sweet and heavy, a little too clean. Too staged. Like everything else in this house.

Sofia sat at the edge of the long table, rearranging slices of fruit into patterns she had no intention of eating. A crescent moon. Then a snake. Then nothing. Her plate remained mostly untouched.

Technically, this was a farewell brunch. In truth, it felt like the last act in a performance she never wanted to audition for.

Across from her, Eliza sipped coffee with the easy grace of a woman who had once commanded rooms like this with nothing but a glance. Her dark braid was coiled neatly over one shoulder. Her expression was soft. But her eyes were always watching.

“I think the Wilson Alpha is planning to marry you off,” she said, voice low and amused behind the rim of her cup.

Sofia didn’t look up. “Was it the one who tried to impress me with his wolf tattoo, or the one who monologued about his macros?”

Eliza chuckled, brushing a crumb from her lap. “Don’t be so hard on them. They’re young. Hopeful.”

“They’re exhausting.”

“They’re fascinated,” Eliza corrected gently. “You carry power like breath. It draws attention whether you want it to or not.”

Sofia’s jaw tightened. She didn’t answer. Just lifted her fork and skewered a piece of melon like it had insulted her.

“Can we go home now?” she asked, her voice pressed flat between manners and frustration.

Eliza didn’t reply right away. She just watched her daughter across the table, quiet and unreadable.

“Yes,” she said. “We’ll leave after breakfast.”

☽

The road home unraveled in rust and gold, a ribbon of highway stretching through scrub brush and wild grass. Shrubs blurred past the windows. The sky was a perfect, pale blue.

Sofia sat in the backseat, her forehead resting against the cool glass. Ariana was beside her, quiet and observant, knees tucked to her chest. Up front, a Moon Pack guard drove while Eliza rode passenger—as always. She said she liked being close to the road. Said it kept her grounded.

They drove in silence for a while. Sofia closed her eyes, letting the hum of the tires and the warmth of the sun sink into her bones. Almost peaceful.

Then Eliza spoke.

“You know,” she said, “when I started attending these things, I wore full Ixchele regalia.”

Sofia cracked one eye open.

Eliza smiled faintly, staring ahead. “The feathers. The paint. The goldwork. Everything. Not because I wanted to—but because I had to. The wolves didn’t understand what we were. So I gave them something to believe in.”

Sofia exhaled slowly.

“I’ve heard this story,” Sofia said, but she didn’t close her eyes this time. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Not when her mother’s voice sounded more like memory than myth.

“I know,” Eliza said. “But you haven’t lived it.”

There was no accusation in her tone. Just memory. And weight.

“They believed Ixchele blood was sacred,” Eliza continued. “Said it was the closest thing to the goddess walking the earth. I never corrected them. Why would I? If they needed legend to respect me, I gave it to them. I performed. I dazzled. I made them want our alliance.”

Ariana turned her head, watching her grandmother with quiet eyes.

“I played the long game,” Eliza said. “So none of you would ever have to wonder if you were safe. So no one would look at you and think easy target.”

Sofia didn’t respond. Her fingers were curled into the hem of her sweater. Her eyes back on the sky.

“I know they feel like pageants. But once, they were survival. And now?” She paused. “Now they’re our empire."

“You say that like it’s freedom,” Sofia said softly. “But it still feels like a cage.”

Eliza turned in her seat, just enough to look at her daughter directly.

“You think I don’t know what it cost me?” she said. Her voice was calm, but something beneath it burned. “You think I wanted to smile at wolves who looked at me like I was both miracle and threat? I didn’t do it for glory, Sofia. I did it so you could sit in a room like that one and say no.”

Sofia flinched at that.

“I’m not asking you to be me,” Eliza said. “I’m asking you to understand what it took to build this empire. And why I won’t let it fall.”

Silence settled thick between them.

“I just want to be seen for who I am,” Sofia said. “Not what I represent.”

Eliza’s voice softened. “Then show them.”

Ariana didn’t speak, but her fingers traced the seam of her jeans, over and over—absorbing every word like they were sacred. This was only her second reception. The awe hadn’t worn off yet. She still marveled at the gowns and the ceremony, still believed there might be beauty in the spectacle.

Sofia envied her a little.

She turned her face back to the window. Outside, a herd of wild horses galloped across the horizon—manes flying, hooves tearing into the red dust like the earth had offended them.

And maybe it had.

Sofia leaned back against the seat and whispered—more to herself than anyone else—

“I just want to be free.”

Eliza didn’t answer. She just looked out at the road, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

But her eyes—sharp as ever—missed nothing.