The Alpha's Forgotten Daughter

The Silence Within

My wolf.

The words struck harder than they had any right to.

Not because I had forgotten what I was.

Because everyone else had made it easier to pretend.

The rogue watched me carefully from the bed, his face pale beneath the lantern light. Sweat glistened along his brow. Every breath seemed to cost him something, but his eye remained fixed on mine.

"Has anyone ever told you," he whispered, "why your wolf has never answered you?"

The room fell unnaturally quiet.

Mara stood beside me.

The Alpha stood near the doorway.

Neither of them spoke.

That was the first answer.

My throat tightened.

"No."

The word barely came out.

The rogue's expression shifted.

Not surprise.

Horror.

"She's never spoken to you?"

I shook my head.

The admission felt wrong.

Too private.

Too shameful.

"I thought..."

My voice faded.

I didn't know what I thought.

That I was broken.

That I was weak.

That maybe the Moon Goddess had forgotten to finish me.

The rogue closed his eye for a moment.

"That should be impossible."

A cold weight settled in my stomach.

Impossible.

I was starting to hate that word.

"Mara?"

My voice shook.

I hated that too.

Mara's face had gone pale again.

She reached for the edge of the bed, steadying herself.

"Not now."

The answer hit like a slap.

Not now.

Always not now.

Later.

Soon.

When it was safe.

When I was ready.

When the truth no longer had teeth.

I turned fully toward her.

"When?"

Mara looked at me.

For once, she didn't have a careful answer.

The rogue shifted against the pillows.

"She's not gone," he said.

My breath caught.

Mara's head snapped toward him.

"Stop."

He ignored her.

"She's buried."

The words moved through me slowly.

Buried.

Not absent.

Not missing.

Buried.

Something inside my chest tightened painfully.

The Alpha stepped forward.

"That is enough."

His voice filled the room.

Commanding.

Final.

For most wolves, that tone would have ended everything.

It almost ended me too.

Almost.

But I was so tired.

Tired of answers being snatched away.

Tired of adults trading looks over my head.

Tired of being treated like the truth would break me when lies had been doing that for years.

I turned toward him.

"No."

The word left my mouth before fear could stop it.

The Alpha went still.

Mara did too.

Even the rogue seemed to hold his breath.

I had never told the Alpha no.

Not like that.

Not standing directly in front of him.

Not with his dark eyes locked on mine.

My pulse thundered.

I wanted to look away.

I didn't.

His jaw tightened.

"Aria."

There was a warning in my name.

I felt it.

I heard it.

But beneath the warning...

There was something else.

Fear.

Not for himself.

For me.

That only made me angrier.

"Why does everyone know more about me than I do?"

Silence.

My voice rose despite my best effort to keep it steady.

"My mother knew something. Mara knows something. He knows something."

I pointed toward the rogue without looking away from the Alpha.

"Even strangers know something."

My hands shook.

I curled them into fists.

"But I don't."

The words hung there.

Raw.

Ugly.

True.

"No one thought I deserved to know my mother's name."

Mara flinched.

I hated hurting her.

I hated that she had hurt me first.

"No one told me why people thought I was dead."

The Alpha's expression hardened, but his eyes betrayed him.

They always did...

When he forgot to hide them quickly enough.

"No one has ever explained why I've spent nineteen years feeling like there is a locked room inside me."

My voice cracked.

"And now he says my wolf is buried?"

The last word broke apart.

I swallowed hard.

"I need to know what that means."

The Alpha didn't answer right away.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Finally, he looked at the rogue.

"You will not speak another word to her tonight."

The rogue gave a weak laugh.

"Still giving orders to silence the truth."

The Alpha's gaze sharpened.

"You are alive because I allowed it."

"And she is alive because someone lied."

The words struck the room like lightning.

Mara whispered something in warning.

I didn't catch it.

I didn't know the rogue's name.

That bothered me suddenly.

This man had given me pieces of my mother.

Pieces of myself.

And I didn't even know what to call him.

The Alpha stepped closer to the bed.

"Enough."

The rogue smiled faintly.

"Never was your favorite word, Darius."

The room changed.

Darius.

Not Alpha.

Not my Alpha.

Darius.

The name sounded different coming from the rogue.

Older.

Personal.

As though he'd known him before the title.

Before the distance.

Before whatever had broken everything.

The Alpha's face went cold.

"Take Aria out."

Two warriors moved toward the door.

Mara stepped in front of me before they could.

"I'll take her."

"I'm not a prisoner," I said.

No one answered.

That was answer enough.

Mara turned toward me.

Her eyes were wet.

"Please."

One word.

Soft.

Desperate.

Not an order.

A plea.

And because it was Mara...

Because I loved her even when I was angry...

Because part of me was afraid of what I might hear if I stayed...

I let her lead me out.

The hallway felt colder than the treatment room.

Or maybe I was colder.

Mara walked beside me, close enough that our sleeves brushed.

Neither of us spoke.

Behind us, the low murmur of voices continued.

The Alpha's.

The rogue's.

A warrior's.

Not mine.

Never mine.

I stopped halfway down the hall.

Mara stopped too.

Rain tapped against the windows lining the corridor.

Each drop slid down the glass like something trying to get in.

"Is it true?"

Mara closed her eyes.

"Aria..."

"Is my wolf buried?"

Her lips pressed together.

For a second, I thought she wouldn't answer.

Then she whispered,

"I don't know."

The answer should have comforted me.

It didn't.

Because I believed her.

Mara knew pieces.

Not the whole truth.

Maybe no one knew the whole truth.

Except Talia.

And Talia was gone.

My chest ached at the thought.

"What does that even mean?" I asked.

Mara looked toward the window.

"I have theories."

"Then tell me one."

She hesitated.

I waited.

The rain filled the silence between us.

Finally, she spoke.

"Suppression."

The word slithered through me.

"Wolves can be suppressed?"

"Rarely."

"But it happens?"

"It has happened."

"To whom?"

Her gaze returned to mine.

"Wolves born with power others feared."

My skin prickled.

Power.

Me.

The two words didn't belong together.

I almost laughed.

It would have sounded bitter if I had.

"I don't have power."

Mara looked at me for a long moment.

Then, almost sadly—

"You don't know what you have."

The hallway seemed to tilt.

I leaned back against the wall.

The cold stone pressed through my dress.

For nineteen years, I had thought my silence was proof of emptiness.

Maybe it had been proof of something else.

Something hidden.

Something caged.

Something waiting.

My hand drifted to my left shoulder.

The star slept beneath fabric and skin.

Or maybe it didn't sleep at all.

Maybe it had been awake this whole time.

Maybe I was the one who hadn't been.

"Mara."

She looked at me.

"Did my mother know?"

Her face crumpled for one brief second before she mastered it.

"Yes."

The word landed gently.

Somehow, that made it hurt worse.

Of course Talia knew.

My mother had known my name.

My mark.

My wolf.

My danger.

She had known everything.

And I had known almost nothing.

I pushed away from the wall.

"I need air."

Mara reached for me.

I stepped back.

Not far.

Just enough.

Her hand froze in the space between us.

Pain flashed across her face.

I almost apologized.

I didn't.

If I started apologizing for hurting people with questions, I would never stop.

"I won't leave Beaumont," I said.

Mara nodded slowly.

"Stay close to the den."

I nodded.

Then walked away before she could say anything else.

The village was nearly empty beneath the rain.

Lanterns glowed behind windows.

Smoke rose from chimneys.

The ground had turned soft beneath my boots, snow melting into mud where the rain struck hardest.

Everything smelled sharp.

Wet pine.

Cold stone.

Smoke.

Blood still clinging faintly to my sleeves.

I walked without thinking.

Past the well.

Past the training yard.

Past the path leading toward the packhouse.

I didn't look at it.

Not tonight.

Eventually, my feet carried me to the edge of the village, where the forest waited in darkness.

I stopped before crossing the boundary.

The trees stood tall and silent.

Watching.

I used to think the forest felt kinder than Beaumont because it asked nothing of me.

Now I wondered if it had always been listening.

My wolf.

I closed my eyes.

The words felt strange inside my mind.

Like speaking into an empty room.

For as long as I could remember, there had been silence inside me.

Other wolves described their wolves as voices.

Instincts.

Second hearts.

Something wild and certain living beneath their skin.

I had none of that.

Only quiet.

A deep, endless quiet.

The kind I had mistaken for absence.

I pressed a hand to my chest.

Rain slid down my hair.

Cold water traced my neck.

I barely felt it.

"If you're there..."

My voice sounded small beneath the trees.

Embarrassing.

Desperate.

I almost stopped.

Then I thought of Talia.

Talia, who had called me her little star.

Talia, who had loved me with everything she had.

Talia, who had known something about me worth dying for.

My throat tightened.

I tried again.

"If you're there..."

I swallowed.

"Please answer me."

Nothing.

Only rain.

Only wind.

Only the distant creak of branches.

Of course.

A hollow laugh escaped me.

What had I expected?

A voice?

A miracle?

A wolf suddenly rising inside me after nineteen years of silence?

I lowered my hand.

Stupid.

I turned back toward the village.

Then stopped.

There.

So faint I almost missed it.

Not a voice.

Not a word.

Not even a sound.

A flutter.

Deep inside my chest.

Small.

Fragile.

There and gone in the same breath.

I froze.

Rain slid down my face.

My heart pounded once.

Twice.

Then...

Another pulse answered.

Not mine.

My breath caught.

The forest went still around me.

And somewhere inside the silence I had carried my whole life...

Something moved.