By [Jack Dense]
Liora had always believed that love, when given selflessly and with patience, could thaw even the coldest heart. The day she married Kael, Alpha of the Silvercrest Pack, she thought the Moon Goddess herself had blessed their union.
She imagined a life forged in mutual devotion, a love that would grow deeper with time. But years later, that belief had turned to frost, and every breath she took beside him burned with its chill.
Kael's world was one of structure and control. The Silvercrest Pack thrived under his rule—warriors trained at dawn, patrols never faltered, and the pack house stood like a fortress carved from discipline. It was a place where strength was celebrated and tenderness was seen as weakness.
In that world, Liora often felt like a ghost wandering through her own home. Her grace was noted, her silence admired, but her presence never felt truly seen.
At dinner, he sat opposite her, the weight of his authority heavier than the silence between them. Their meals were ritual, not connection, meat grown cold while words went unspoken. No different was the bed they shared: two bodies lying side by side, worlds apart.
When their son Arlo was born, Liora believed things would change. She believed Kael's heart would finally open when he held their child for the first time. And for a moment, just one brief heartbeat, she thought she saw it.
The way his eyes softened when Arlo wrapped his tiny fingers around his father's thumb. But by morning, the warmth was gone, buried beneath the same calm indifference that had become Kael's armor.
Still, she hoped. Still, she waited.
Complete.
She made him a tray of tea that night. In it, she stirred a honey blend he used to love as a boy, one of the few details she remembered from his mother's stories. It was a meager gesture, fragile as the thread that still tied her with him.
As she came into his office, Kael barely looked up from his papers. The room smelled of parchment and cedar, the air thick with the weight of duty.
"I brought you tea," she said softly.
He nodded, not removing his gaze. "Thank you, Liora."
Just two words. Not cruel, but distant enough to wound.
She waited for him to say more, to meet her eyes, to notice her in some small way. But he kept his eyes on his work. The silence stretched like a wall between them.
"Did you eat today?" she asked softly.
"I'm fine," he said.
It was the same answer he always gave, an answer that ended every conversation before it had a chance to begin.
Liora forced a faint smile and set the cup beside him. "Try to rest tonight," she whispered.
The only response from Kael was the scratch of his pen.
She spun, and made for the door before her composure could falter, her hand tightening on the tray. As it closed behind her, the sound was almost like the end of something that had been over for years.
The outside corridor was cool, with stone floors that chilled her bare feet. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes to breathe in and out until the beat of her heart steadied.
Then—something.
A faint scent wafted through the air, floral and sweet and unfamiliar.
Her wolf stirred inside her, hackles rising.
She frowned and inhaled again, trying to find the origin, but it was already gone. She shook her head; it had to be nothing-fatigue perhaps, or a memory of someone passing earlier. Yet the smell had stirred something inside her. Something wary. Something wrong.
--
Later that night, she tucked Arlo into bed. His soft breathing was a comfort, the gentle rhythm grounding her in a world that had grown uncertain. She sat by the window, moonlight spilling across her lap, and whispered a prayer to the Moon Goddess.
"Pray," she whispered, her voice shaking, "if it be my doom, give me the power to support it."
Her reflection stared back at her in the glass, eyes too tired for her age, lips too still for someone who once believed in love.
"Was I a fool?" she whispered.
The silence gave no answer.
Then,
Her head snapped up. The sound came again, faint but deliberate, somewhere down the hall.
Immediately, her wolf rose, ears pricked, muscles coiled. Liora stood and moved quietly to the door, the sound of her heartbeat loud in her ears. The floral scent returned, stronger now, lush and intoxicating, threaded with something unmistakably intimate.
Her pulse quickened.
She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Moonlight streamed through narrow windows, reaping pale silver paths upon the floor. The air shimmered faintly about an almost-whispered breeze.
Her wolf urged caution, but her feet carried her forward. The scent led her deeper into the house, toward the west wing—the guest quarters. That part of the house was rarely used.
Her fingers brushed against the wall as she walked, seeking balance. The closer she got, the stronger it was. It clung in the air, rich and warm, unmistakably feminine.
And then she saw it, a sliver of golden light spilling from beneath a half-open door.
Her breath caught.
That was supposed to be an empty room.
-
Liora hesitated. Every instinct screamed for her to turn back, but her heart, her stubborn, hopeful heart, needed truth.
Her hand shook as she pushed the door open.
Inside, the air was warm and perfumed with roses. Curtains swayed lazily, their movement casting shifting shadows across the floor. The faint sound of laughter drifted through the room.
Her world came to a grinding halt.
Kael stood there, shirt discarded, his strong shoulders glinting under the moonlight. And beside him, draped in silk, was a woman Liora did not know. Young. Beautiful. Her hand rested on Kael's chest with a familiarity that made Liora's stomach twist.
"Kael," she breathed, her voice little more than a whisper.
He turned.
Shock flickered across his face for an instant, quickly masked by something far colder, irritation.
"Liora." His voice came sharp, defensive. "This isn't— "
"Who is she?" Liora's words cut through his, low and shaking, but steady enough to be heard.
The woman took a step back, eyes wide, the scent of fear mingling with that same floral sweetness.
Kael said nothing.
The silence between them filled the room, heavy and suffocating.
Liora's hands were trembling. "Say something," she whispered. "Tell me I'm wrong.
Kael's jaw clenched. His lips parted, as if to say something, but no words came.
That was her answer in silence.
The woman's gaze flicked between them, guilt and triumph warring in her gaze.
Liora's throat burned. She blinked hard, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. Her wolf whimpered, torn between heartbreak and rage.
"You could have told me," she said, voice breaking. "You could have at least given me that dignity."
"Liora," Kael said, but she shook her head.
"No," she whispered. "You don't get to say my name now."
She turned and walked out, her steps slow but unbroken, her breath coming in shallow bursts.
Behind her, Kael called after her once, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. The corridor felt endless, the walls closing in as her heart cracked open in quiet ruin.
Every step carried the echo of finality, the end of years spent loving someone who never loved her back. When she finally reached her room, she shut the door and pressed her back against it, shaking.
Her wolf's cry echoed in her mind, a low, mournful sound that filled the silence. She sank to the floor, clutching her chest as though holding herself together could stop the pain. But beneath the anguish, buried deep within her, something small began to stir. It was not hope, not yet.
It was fire. A quiet, dangerous spark whispered in her bones warning her that the night everything shattered was not her ending, only the beginning of a storm that will change everything.!