CHAPTER FIFTEEN
1177 Words
SILVER’S POV
The west wing smelled like lavender and lemon balm.
Which was strange, considering it was also the part of the estate closest to death.
Lucia De Luca’s quarters were nothing like the rest of the house. While the halls outside were stone and steel, her room was flooded with soft light, stacked with books, woven blankets, and the warm hum of a radio playing opera.
She didn’t look like a dying woman.
She looked like a queen at rest—propped up on silk pillows, hair braided elegantly over her shoulder, her frail hands folded like she was perpetually waiting for something. Or someone.
She looked happy even when she knew she was dying.
When I knocked gently and entered, she opened one eye and smiled.
“Look at you,” she said, voice like warm tea.
“Luna of Cassano. Sitting straighter than the throne itself.”
I walked over and sat in the armchair beside her bed.
“You summoned me.”
“I did,” she said.
“Because if I wait for my son to give me an update on his marriage, I’ll be dust before dinner.”
I smirked.
“I didn’t realize you were the curious type.”
“Oh darling,” she chuckled,
“I’m the dangerous type. Just dressed in pearls.”
I laughed softly.
There was something about Lucia that made it impossible to feel like a prisoner. She was blunt. Sharp. But kind in the way only someone who’s suffered deeply can be.
In fact, she seemed like the direct opposite of what Alessio was.
Was he adopted or something?
“You’ve been busy.” she said, nodding toward the pile of folders I’d brought with me.
“I thought I’d give my new pack a tune-up.”
“And how is the engine?”
“Leaking. Loud. Possibly cursed.”
Lucia laughed again, a breathless sound that turned into a light cough. I reached over instinctively, pouring her a glass of water from the side table.
She took it, nodded in thanks, and then peered at me with eyes that saw everything.
“You were too smart for them.” she said softly.
“For who?”
“For anyone who thought you’d sit quietly in a room and wait for affection. Your birth pack.” She leaned back against her pillows.
“And too strong for a boy who doesn’t know what to do with his own heart.”
My throat tightened.
“Alessio isn’t a boy,” I said quietly.
“No. He’s a man who was never allowed to be a boy,” she said, her smile fading.
“His father made sure of that.”
I waited.
And, for once, she didn’t make me beg for the story.
I was always curious about Alessio.
Because never in my life ( not that I've lived for long) have I seen someone this cold towards another.
There got to be a story just like mine.
“He used to lock Alessio outside the estate when he was only ten. Said no Alpha should rely on warmth. No Alpha should sleep in a bed until he bled for it.”
My stomach twisted.
“ After his big brother, Alejandro, died, everything suddely fell on poor Alessio. After being in the shadows for years, all the light and responsibilities fell on him. He trained him like a soldier, flogged his under his feet when he did even the littlest mistake, locked him outside to freeze in the cold as consequences.” she continued.
“No hugs. No goodnights. Just pressure. Every hour. Every day. Until Alessio stopped speaking unless it was an order. He became a shadow of himself, even worse than when he was the noticeable child.”
Alessio had an older brother?
“That’s… cruel.”
Lucia’s eyes shimmered with something like grief.
“When I tried to protect him, I was called soft. Weak. The Luna who coddled her son. His father hated it, said i was making Alessio a weakling. Caro signore.” She exhaled.
“But I knew… I knew he was breaking long before anyone else saw the cracks. He was hurting deep down for everything. He began to shut even I out.”
I looked down at my hands.
“He doesn’t want me here.”
“He doesn’t know what to do with you.”
“I don’t need him to do anything,” I murmured.
“I just need him to stop pretending I’m invisible.”
Lucia reached out and took my hand, her skin papery and warm.
“He sees you, Silver. He just doesn’t trust what he sees.”
A pause.
Then she added.
“Because you’re not like her.”
My eyes snapped to hers.
“Her?”
Lucia nodded.
“His fated mate. The one he lost.”
I swallowed. “I’ve heard the rumors.”
“Rumors are fire. A little truth, and a lot of burn.”
I waited again.
“She wasn’t right for him.” Lucia said.
“Not because she wasn’t good. But because she needed love he didn’t know how to give. He tried. In his way. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. And when he couldn’t offer it… she drowned in loneliness. Literally.”
“She—?”
“She walked into the sea,” Lucia whispered.
“And left her wedding ring on the shore. He wasn't even around when she drowned herself. Only Lorenzo. And he felt it, he felt the pain she felt from the mate bond, the pain of the lungs filling with water until there was no life. He felt it all.”
That means they had consummated their bond.
A long silence followed.
And suddenly, I understood why he never bothered to even lift my veil.
The silence.
The distance.
Alessio wasn’t just guarding himself.
He was punishing himself.
Lucia squeezed my hand.
“But you… you’re not here for love. Not yet. You came here with a purpose. And he respects that more than you know.”
“Respect doesn’t feel like silence.”
“Then make some noise,” she said, smiling again.
“Shake the walls. Shake him. Remind him that there’s still life here. That he’s not just a relic buried in grief.”
I exhaled slowly.
Then nodded.
“I will.”
Lucia let go of my hand and leaned back, tired now. Her eyes drooped.
“Good. Because this pack doesn’t need another ghost. That is my only wish. To see my only son happy.”
She began to drift into sleep, the opera still humming in the background.
I stood quietly, gathered my files, and looked back at her.
Then whispered.
“Thank you.”
And walked out with a little more weight in my chest.
Not grief.
Not rage.
But understanding.
I didn’t need Alessio’s love.
But one day, I would earn his trust.
And when I did, I’d bring the storm he thought he’d buried long ago.
- Writer
