The Wedding's Still On. You're Still Not Invited.

Damon didn’t even glance at me. His entire focus locked on Nina, who was still curled on the floor like a fallen porcelain idol.

“Nina…”

He whispered her name again, over and over, like repetition might mend broken bones or twisted truths. His voice was low, reverent, and it made something raw coil in my chest.

Beta Malric’s eyes found mine with fire and accusation behind them. His aura surged, the air rippling with Beta dominance. “What the fuck did you do to her, you unstable freak?”

I said nothing. Not yet. My silence stretched like tension before a full moon shift.

Nina trembled dramatically in Damon’s arms, clutching his shirt as though the world might rip her away, her voice quivering, small and soaked in faux innocence. “I only wanted to offer her some warm milk,” she said, her wolf peeking just beneath her tone, playing the fragile card too well. “Just like she gave me cake at my birthday…” Her eyes shimmered wet and manipulative, a tactic I’d seen her perfect for years.

Alpha Damon’s arms tightened protectively around her as he lifted his gaze to me, blazing now with quiet, dangerous fury. “You pushed her?” His voice was a low growl, threaded with Alpha command and disbelief.

I didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, didn’t justify myself.

I just watched them.

I kept my heartbeat steady and my face unreadable. I was too tired to plead and too smart to think it would matter.

Malric took a step toward me, the pack’s Beta now in full enforcer mode, fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. “Lay another hand on her,” he snarled, “and I swear to the Ancients, I’ll have the Council drag you out in chains. Luna bond or not.”

I tilted my head, unbothered. “She dropped the glass herself,” I said quietly, my voice low and even, like I was discussing the weather. “I never touched her.”

But the truth didn’t matter.

Not to Damon, the blinded Alpha of the Blackwell Pack.

He was too busy ordering the first aid kit, checking her wrist with trembling fingers, brushing her hair from her face with the kind of tenderness that used to be mine. The kind of touch that came with memories… and now betrayal.

Nina sobbed again, burying her face against his chest, her voice muffled but dripping venom. “It’s okay, Alpha,” she whispered sweetly. “Maybe she didn’t mean to… I just wanted to be kind.”

Malric looked at me like I was some feral creature in a cornered den. “You’re jealous. And clearly unfit,” he bit out. “You shouldn’t be living under this roof. Not until you get your damn emotions under control.”

This is my house!

I wanted to scream, but I didn’t argue. I didn’t beg.

There was no point in doing all that.

Instead, I stared at the rug, milk spilled across it like a ritual gone wrong—before I turned and walked out of my own room.

Every step down the stairs felt like descending deeper into the belly of a house that no longer belonged to me. The walls seemed to shrink around me, thick with judgment and silence. Behind me, I could still hear Alpha Damon murmuring softly to Nina, promising her everything would be alright, assuring her he’d fly her to the Swiss mountain packs the moment she was stable. Then the front door opened… and closed.

They rushed her back to the healer’s.

I didn’t chase.

I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water with hands that trembled more than I cared to admit. The cup nearly tipped, but I caught it, my palms pressed against the cool glass as I sat at the table in a house that no longer felt like home. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was cavernous. Haunted.

**

It was well past midnight when the silence turned strange, too perfect, too staged. Like the entire house was holding its breath to avoid me.

I sat on my bed, my knees drawn up, back against the headboard, the pain in my ribs flaring like a memory carved in flesh. I was scrolling through old photos, even though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t, letting my thumb hover over familiar faces I barely recognized anymore. Damon’s arm was around my shoulders. Malric’s crooked smile. Nina’s harmless smile was tucked neatly in the background, her wolf always lurking.

I smirked bitterly and felt the burn rise in my side again. I didn’t wince. I simply started deleting. One memory. Then another. Then another.

My wolf stirred restlessly inside me.

I remembered the way Alpha Damon used to look at me, like I was the tether keeping him from unraveling completely. “Lyra,” he had whispered once, his forehead resting against mine, breath warm from a long run beneath the stars. “You’re my compass. If I ever lose you… I’ll lose myself.”

Back then, I had laughed, young and foolish. “You’re overdramatic.”

“No,” he had said, his voice too honest. “You’re the reason I stay sane.”

Even Malric had once cared. He’d show up uninvited at my quarters with food I didn’t ask for and a protective scowl. “You skipped your meal again,” he’d mutter, setting it down like he hadn’t tracked me through the woods to deliver it.

“I had patrols,” I’d argue.

“I don’t care. Eat. Or I’ll chew it for you like a mother wolf.”

We weren’t perfect. But we were something. A chaos stitched into routine. Quiet evenings of burnt venison, old war documentaries, and bickering over whether to adopt a direhound or a shadowcat first.

Then came Nina.

She returned like a ghost, wide-eyed, with her pride shattered and her future in pieces. I was the idiot who opened the door.

“I didn’t know who else to turn to,” she had whispered as I held her, her tears soaking into my shirt.

“You’ll figure it out,” I told her.

And I meant it.

I covered her rent. Paid for her therapist. Left her meals when I got home late from training. Checked in. Gave her space. Let her stay.

Because that’s what family does.

And she repaid me by inching closer to Damon every night. Laughing at his jokes, grazing his arm like it was hers to touch.

“You’re so funny, Alpha Damon,” she giggled during a pack feast, leaning in like she’d been born to fit at his side.

I asked her for the salt. She blinked, all innocence. “Sorry,” she said with a sugary smile. “I was just laughing.”

But I knew.

I knew what she was doing.

So I asked him.

“Are you sleeping with her?” I asked, my voice soft but sharp.

He blinked at me like I’d insulted the moon goddess herself. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“A fair one,” I replied, arms crossed. “She’s not a pack member. She’s a parasite.”

He scoffed. “She’s your friend. Your responsibility. Why are you jealous of your own damn friend?”

I didn’t answer.

Because somewhere deep down, I already knew the truth.

And so did he.