Chapter 7
1443 Words
Chapter Seven – The Shape of a Lie
Anna’s P.O.V.
I had become good at disappearing.
Not completely.
Not enough to worry anyone.
Just enough.
I showed up for meals when I had to. Smiled when pack members asked if I was okay. Sat through strategy meetings with my hands folded neatly in my lap, pretending I still cared who controlled which border road.
Then, when no one was looking…
I vanished.
Six months after Carter’s alleged death, people expected me to still be grieving.
That made hiding easier.
Grief explained everything.
The weight loss.
The loose clothes.
The quiet.
The way I flinched when someone said his name.
What grief did not explain was the life growing beneath my ribs.
A knock sounded at my bedroom door.
I pulled my sweater lower before answering.
“Come in.”
Mom stepped inside.
Not Alpha Christa.
Not La Diabla.
Mom.
Her hair was braided over one shoulder, and she wore black training clothes with no weapons in sight.
Which meant she had at least three.
“Walk with me,” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
I followed her outside.
DeL Sol was warm beneath the afternoon sun. Children ran between the garden beds while warriors sparred in the lower yard. Pack life moved around us, loud and alive, like the world hadn’t ended six months ago.
Mom didn’t speak until we reached the training grounds.
Then she picked up two wooden practice blades and tossed one to me.
I caught it on instinct.
“I don’t train anymore.”
“I know.”
Her voice stayed calm.
“You stopped.”
I looked down at the blade.
“I had reasons.”
“You had pain.”
My throat tightened.
“Same thing.”
“No.”
She stepped into position.
“Pain is what happens to you. What you do with it is still a choice.”
I almost laughed.
“That sounds like something an Alpha would say.”
“It is.”
She raised her blade.
“But I’m saying it as your mother.”
I should have refused.
Instead, I lifted the blade.
She moved first.
Slow.
Controlled.
Testing.
I blocked the strike, and my body remembered what my heart had tried to forget.
Step.
Turn.
Breathe.
Again.
Mom didn’t fight like other people.
She flowed.
Precise.
Quiet.
Deadly even with wood in her hand.
Everyone knew who she had been before she became Alpha.
Everyone knew what La Diabla could do.
But to me…
She was still the woman who taught me how to braid my hair, how to sharpen a knife, and how to never let anyone see where I was bleeding.
Her blade tapped my shoulder.
“You’re distracted.”
“I’m grieving.”
“You’re hiding.”
My grip tightened.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar.”
The word wasn’t cruel.
It was tired.
I swung harder than I meant to.
She blocked it easily.
For a few minutes, there were no secrets.
Only movement.
Wood struck wood.
Dust rose beneath our boots.
My breath came faster.
So did my heart.
I had forgotten how good it felt to be angry somewhere my anger could go.
Then Mom stepped inside my guard and knocked the blade from my hand.
It hit the dirt.
I froze.
She didn’t smile.
“You stopped training.”
“I know.”
“You stopped leading.”
“I know.”
“You stopped laughing.”
My eyes burned.
“I know.”
Her face softened.
“Anna…”
“Don’t.”
“If Carter were here—”
“He isn’t.”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
Mom went still.
For one impossible second, something flashed across her face.
Not grief.
Guilt.
Then it was gone.
“I know you think he’s gone,” she said quietly.
My chest tightened.
“I watched him burn.”
Her jaw flexed.
“I know what you saw.”
“Then don’t tell me what he would want.”
The wind moved between us.
She looked past me, toward the northern mountains.
Only for a breath.
But I saw it.
Something in her eyes hardened.
Not like mourning.
Like a promise.
When she looked back at me, her voice was softer.
“If Carter loved you the way I believe he did, he would be furious that you’re letting grief bury you beside him.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“You believe he loved me?”
“I do.”
The answer came immediately.
“And I was wrong about him.”
That broke something open inside me.
Mom swallowed.
“I spent so much time seeing Dorian every time I looked at him.”
A shadow crossed her face.
“I saw the hybrid.”
“I saw the danger.”
“I saw everything that could take you from me.”
Her voice lowered.
“I almost missed seeing Carter.”
I wiped at my cheeks.
“You hated him.”
“I feared him.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“Hate wants to destroy. Fear wants to control.”
I let out a broken laugh.
“You definitely tried to control us.”
“Yes.”
A sad smile touched her mouth.
“And you definitely inherited my talent for doing whatever you wanted anyway.”
Despite myself…
I laughed.
It hurt.
But it was real.
Mom reached for my hand.
“I owe him an apology.”
The words hung between us.
I looked away.
“I wish you could give it to him.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
Just barely.
Enough that I felt it.
“So do I.”
Something about the way she said it made my heart ache.
I thought it was grief.
I didn’t know it was a lie.
She pulled me into her arms.
I hadn’t let my mother hold me like that in months.
This time, I didn’t pull away.
I pressed my face into her shoulder and cried.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for all the things I couldn’t say.
I’m pregnant.
I’m scared.
I don’t know how to do this without him.
I want my mate back.
Mom held me tighter than she had in years.
Her hand cradled the back of my head.
Her heartbeat was steady against my ear.
But inside her silence, something trembled.
Christa’s P.O.V.
My daughter cried in my arms, and I lied by holding her.
That was the worst part.
Not the Council.
Not Navarro.
Not the waiting.
This.
Anna believed Carter was dead.
I knew he wasn’t.
She believed she was grieving a ghost.
I knew he was chained somewhere in Iron Fang territory, alive because I had let Navarro take him.
I closed my eyes and held her tighter.
Forgive me.
The words stayed trapped behind my teeth.
If I told her, she would run.
Pregnant or not—though I still did not know that truth—Anna would tear across every border until she found him.
She was my daughter.
I knew exactly what kind of reckless love lived in her blood.
So I said nothing.
I let her cry.
I let her believe I was grieving with her.
Across the courtyard, Carlos stood on the balcony.
Watching.
He knew.
Of course he knew.
He saw the moment my face nearly gave me away.
He saw the way my eyes kept drifting north.
He saw the truth clawing at my throat.
Anna finally pulled back, wiping her face.
“I’m sorry.”
“Never apologize for breaking in front of me.”
She gave me the smallest smile.
“I haven’t trained in months.”
“I noticed.”
“I might be terrible now.”
“You were terrible before.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Mom.”
I shrugged.
“Motivation.”
For one precious second, she laughed again.
Then she picked up the wooden blade from the dirt.
“I want to try again.”
I nodded.
“Then try.”
She stepped back into position.
My daughter raised her blade.
Her hands shook.
But she raised it.
And for the first time in six months, Anna Rivera did not look like grief had swallowed her whole.
She looked like she might fight her way back.
I should have felt relief.
Instead, all I could think was—
Hold on, Carter.
Just a little longer.
Please.
Because when Anna learned the truth…
I didn’t know if she would ever let me hold her again.
- Writer
