Chapter Three: Cracks at the Table
755 Words
Breakfast was supposed to be safe.
The long wooden table was bathed in early sunlight, the windows open to let in the scent of pine and warm bread. Plates were set. Steam curled from mugs of tea. It was ordinary in a way Asia rarely trusted.
Her mother moved easily between the counter and the table, humming under her breath. Her father sat across from Asia, reading reports he had already memorized.
Asia stared at her plate.
Eggs. Toast. Fruit.
Her hands were steady. That alone took effort.
“You didn’t sleep,” her mother said gently, setting a cup in front of her.
Asia didn’t look up. “I did.”
“You rested,” Alpha Kade corrected, lowering the papers. “That isn’t the same.”
Her jaw tightened.
Silence stretched. The kind that waited.
“You overextended yesterday,” her father continued. Calm. Measured. “Pinning a wolf without shifting—”
“I had it under control.”
“You nearly crushed him.”
Asia’s deep blue eyes snapped up. Cold flickered there, sharp and fast. “He volunteered.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
The air shifted.
Not enough to notice at first. Just a faint pressure, like the room drawing a breath.
Her mother sat beside her. “Asia, we’re not questioning your strength. We’re worried about how fast it’s growing.”
“It’s mine,” Asia said. “I should be allowed to use it.”
Her father leaned forward slightly. “Power without restraint destroys packs.”
Asia laughed once—short, humorless. It startled them both.
“You think I don’t know that?” she asked. “You think I wake up wanting this inside me?”
The pressure thickened.
The cups on the table rattled.
Her mother’s hand covered Asia’s. “Sweetheart—”
“Don’t.”
The word landed hard.
The floor creaked.
Asia stood abruptly, chair scraping back. Her heart was pounding now, loud enough to drown out thought. Her wolf surged forward, not angry—defensive.
They doubt us, it whispered.
They fear what we are becoming.
“I am going to be Luna,” Asia said, voice rising despite herself. “And every time I show what I can do, you pull me back like I’m a threat.”
“That’s because you are,” her father said quietly.
The moment the words left his mouth, he knew.
Asia froze.
Something in her eyes changed—not glowing, not wild, just empty. Like the ocean before a storm breaks.
The table cracked.
Plates shattered. The windows bowed inward, glass screaming as invisible force pressed against it. The air exploded outward, throwing chairs back, slamming cupboards open.
“Asia!” her mother shouted.
The floor split beneath Asia’s feet.
She gasped—not in pain, but shock—as the power tore free, no longer contained, no longer listening. The walls groaned. The ceiling beams strained.
“I— I can’t—” Her voice broke.
Her father was already moving, placing himself between Asia and her mother without hesitation. “Asia, look at me,” he commanded. Alpha voice. Full force.
She couldn’t.
Tears burned her eyes—hot, furious, unwanted. The power fed on it.
“I didn’t mean to!” she cried.
Her mother rushed forward despite the danger, gripping Asia’s face in her hands. “Asia. Breathe with me. You’re not alone. Do you hear me?”
Her touch cut through the chaos.
The pressure wavered.
Asia sucked in a shaking breath. Another. Another.
The walls stopped shaking. The force collapsed inward, slamming back into her chest like a beast caged too fast.
Asia fell to her knees.
Silence crashed down, broken only by her ragged breathing and the soft clatter of settling debris.
Her parents stared at the destruction—the broken table, the cracked stone floor, the shattered glass.
Then they looked at their daughter.
Asia wrapped her arms around herself, shoulders trembling. Her blue eyes were wide now—not cold, not fierce—just scared.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be this.”
Her mother knelt immediately, pulling her into her arms. “I know. I know.”
Her father knelt too, placing a steady hand on Asia’s back. “That’s why we’ll keep fighting this together.”
Asia closed her eyes.
Because for the first time, she wasn’t afraid of the pack.
She was afraid of herself.
- Writer
