CHAPTER 2 – INTRUSIONS
1228 Words
Nevara
It’s only been two days since Nickolai’s funeral, and already Vanessa walks around like it’s been years. She’s no grieving widow—that’s for sure.
She swans through the pack house like she owns it, draped in silk robes and perfume too strong for the halls, flipping her hair and flashing her teeth at anyone with a Y chromosome and a decent jawline. Not just my husband—though she’s boldest with him.
I’ve seen the way she sidles up to Tobias in the kitchen, brushing his arm with her fingers under the pretense of gratitude. The way she lowers her voice when she thanks him for taking her in. The way she tilts her head and bites her bottom lip when she talks to him like we’re not both standing right there.
She doesn’t stop at him, either. Last night I walked into the courtyard and caught her running her hand up the bicep of one of our warriors—purring over how strong he must be, asking what he benches, like she’s never seen a man with muscles.
We’re wolves. Everyone has muscles.
What she doesn’t have is shame.
And she lets her child run amuck through the house like it’s a playground. Toys scattered across the floor. Sticky fingers on the walls. Screaming through the halls at all hours. And Tobias, of course, says nothing—because he’s just a kid.
Which is exactly what I reminded myself this morning when I heard the crash.
It came from the family room. I froze for a second, already knowing.
By the time I stepped inside, Noah was crouched in the middle of the rug surrounded by glass and broken wood. The frame that held my last photo of my entire family lay shattered. My mother’s face was half-obscured by a jagged shard. Nickolai’s image had a diagonal crease across his smile. The glass had sliced the corner of the picture clean off.
My hands went cold.
“Noah,” I said, keeping my voice level. “What happened?”
He looked up, blinking wide eyes that were too big for his face. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Were you playing?”
He nodded, holding up a stuffed dinosaur. “He jumped too high.”
The photo. The frame. The memory. Gone—because of a dinosaur.
I inhaled through my nose and walked carefully across the glass. I didn’t yell. I didn’t curse. I didn’t even raise my voice. But anger throbbed under my skin like heat behind a bruise.
He’s four. He’s Nickolai’s son. He didn’t mean it.
But that photo was all I had left of before. Before Nickolai met Vanessa. Before the weird distance started creeping into his voice.
Before everything got complicated.
“You’re not supposed to play in here,” I said softly, kneeling to pick up the broken frame.
He backed away like I’d hit him.
“I’m not mad,” I added, even though I kind of was. “I just wish you’d been more careful.”
He looked at the glass, then at me. “Is it your favorite?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It was.”
Noah blinked fast. “Are you gonna tell my mommy?”
I stood and brushed my hands off. I wanted to say, No, but I should. I wanted to say, If she actually watched you, this wouldn’t have happened.
Instead, I said, “No.”
Because I wouldn’t give Vanessa the satisfaction. But I also couldn’t leave it alone.
“Do you want to hear a story?” I asked after a moment.
He tilted his head. “Now?”
“It’s a Halloween story,” I said, sitting on the couch. “You like spooky stuff, don’t you?”
He hesitated, then padded over slowly, dragging his stuffed fox by the leg.
I didn’t reach for a book.
“You ever hear about the Bone Keeper?” I asked, voice low.
Noah’s eyes widened. “Is he a bad guy?”
“He’s not bad,” I said. “He just… keeps count.”
“Of what?”
“Broken things. Things people don’t care for. Like heirlooms. Photographs. Things that meant something once, but someone was too careless to protect them.”
Noah’s fingers clutched the dinosaur tighter.
“They say the Bone Keeper walks on tiptoe so you can’t hear him coming. He only visits children who break things that don’t belong to them—especially things with memories inside.”
Noah shifted on the couch.
“He doesn’t take big bones. Just the little ones. A toe here. A knuckle there. Just enough to make you feel hollow. But he doesn’t hurt you, no. You don’t even know he’s been—until you try to run and realize you can’t keep up anymore.”
Noah’s eyes were huge now.
“And the worst part?” I leaned in close. “He doesn’t take from the naughty ones first. He takes from the ones who lie about it after.”
That’s when Vanessa’s voice rang out from the hall.
“Noah?” she called sweetly. “What are you doing, honey?”
He bolted upright and ran out of the room like the Bone Keeper himself was on his heels.
I smiled. Just a little. But of course, it didn’t last.
Vanessa burst in moments later, her heels tapping against the hardwood like a warning shot. “What did you say to him?”
“He broke something,” I said calmly. “And I told him a story.”
“You scared him.”
“I didn’t touch him.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
She stared at me like I was stupid. “He’s four, Nevara. You told a four-year-old a horror story because he made a mistake?”
“I couldn’t discipline him. You would’ve made it a scene.”
“I would’ve protected my son, yes.”
“From consequences?”
“From you.”
And there it was. I opened my mouth to speak, but a voice cut in behind us.
“What’s going on?”
Tobias.
Of course.
I didn’t even bother turning around. “Ask your guest.”
“She’s not a guest,” he said, stepping in. “She’s family.”
I flinched before I could help it. Vanessa saw. She smiled.
“He told me a story about a bone monster,” Noah said from behind her leg. “He takes your bones if you break things.”
Tobias finally looked at me. “Seriously?”
“He broke the photo,” I said flatly. “The last photo I had of my whole family.”
He blinked. “The one on the shelf?”
I nodded.
He didn’t say he was sorry. Didn’t ask if I was okay. He just turned to Vanessa, touching her elbow lightly. “Let’s get him upstairs.”
She nodded, casting one final glare over her shoulder. “Come on, baby. Let’s get away from the scary witch.”
I didn’t rise to it.
I just stood in the silence of the room after they left, looking down at the shards of glass still scattered across the rug.
And for about the hundredth time in days, I wanted to scream.
- Writer
