Chapter 19

Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN

LYRIQ’S POV

The cold night settled around Northside pack like a heavy, silent shroud. The trees loomed thick and still, each leaf and shadow seeming to bow under the weight of winter’s first true chill. 

And it was funny because it was always cold here.

I sat alone near the cliff’s edge, where the steep drop met the black horizon. The wind tugged at my coat, but I barely felt it. I hadn’t felt much of anything in a long time.

Not until I met Indigo that is.

Growing up here—if you could call it “growing up”—had never been easy. My pack was built on a foundation of strength and survival, and no one had taught me that more clearly than my mother. 

Feint memories of her still lingered in the back of my mind, shadowed and worn, like faded scars. She’d done her best, I supposed. But her best wasn’t enough to stop the beatings, the constant struggles, or the life we’d led in hiding. 

I remembered her silence, her stoic resignation as she shielded me from the blows, never once fighting back.

She’d given me no father’s name, only whispers of a lineage that I barely cared to know. That man, whoever he was, had left us long before I could form any idea of him. It hurt my mother more badly than she'd ever admit.

And yet, he was still part of me—part of the bitterness that had hardened over the years, like ice locking in the pain, burying it so deep even I could barely remember what warmth felt like. 

Even when I’d joined the Sanctum, it hadn’t been out of loyalty. It was out of necessity. That was survival.

And here I was now, Alpha of the very pack I despised.

A sound behind me pulled me back to the present. I didn’t turn; I knew the steady, quiet steps belonged to Celia, my Delta. She was one of the few in this pack who understood that silence could be as loud as a shout, especially with me.

“You’re out here again,” she said quietly, her voice low, respectful. It was a statement, not a question. “You have a visitor.”

I glanced over my shoulder, catching her gaze in the moonlight. Her expression was calm, neutral, but I sensed an edge beneath it. Celia didn’t disturb me unless it was important.

“Who?” My voice sounded as cold as I felt.

“Aries,” she replied, watching me carefully. “He’s waiting in the main hall.”

I tensed, my jaw tightening. Aries. My cousin and Beta. Technically, we were family. But in reality, we couldn’t be more different. Aries was the polar opposite of everything I valued. 

While I ruled Northside with discipline, distance, and strict control, Aries ruled his people with a kind of charisma I couldn’t muster if I tried. His laughter was as common as his growls, and he had the nerve to make decisions with his heart, not his head.

“Did he say what he wanted?” I asked, already dreading the encounter.

“Not exactly.” Celia shrugged slightly, her eyes flicking toward the hall. “But knowing him, he won’t leave until he’s had his say.”

I sighed, turning back toward the cliff one last time before following Celia back to the pack house. The wind picked up as we walked, carrying with it the faintest trace of a scent I hadn’t smelled in years—a hint of lavender and winter. It was the scent of my mother and I paused, looking back.

“Is something wrong?” Celia asked but I nodded.

The main hall was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls. Aries stood near the fireplace, his stance relaxed, one hand resting on the mantel as if he owned the place. He looked up as I entered, his eyes flashing with that same, irritating warmth he always seemed to carry.

“Lyriq,” he greeted me with a small nod, his tone casual, as if we were old friends meeting over a drink.

“Aries,” I replied coolly, crossing my arms over my chest. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Pleasure, right. I’d forgotten how charming you are.”

I ignored the jab, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Aries sighed, pushing away from the fireplace to face me fully.

“There’s tension brewing between our packs,” he said bluntly, his eyes steady on mine. “You’ve noticed it, haven’t you?”

I narrowed my eyes, though I’d suspected this was the reason he’d come. “What about it?”

“People are talking,” Aries continued, his tone more serious now. “They’re questioning your leadership, your methods. They think you’re too… distant.”

I felt a flash of irritation, though I kept my expression neutral. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” He took a step closer, his gaze intent. “They’re saying you don’t care, that you rule with an iron fist, that you don’t understand what your people want.”

“And what do they want, Aries?” I asked, my voice a low, dangerous growl. “Warmth? Compassion? A shoulder to cry on?”

He met my gaze without flinching. “Maybe they need to feel like they belong. Like they’re more than just soldiers to you.”

I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “Belonging doesn’t keep people alive, Aries. Strength does. Discipline does.”

Aries clenched his jaw, his expression hardening. “And what about loyalty? Trust? You think they’ll follow you blindly, no matter how cold you are?”

“They’ll follow because they know I’m strong,” I retorted. “Because they know I won’t coddle them or let my emotions get in the way.”

“Have you never felt love? Do you even know what compassion feels like?”

Indigo flashed through my mind but my expression was stern. “No.”

Aries shook his head, a look of disappointment crossing his face. “You sound just like our grandfather.”

The words hit me harder than I’d expected, a cold jolt that sent a ripple of anger through me. Our grandfather was a ruthless Alpha, known for his brutal tactics and unyielding rule. He was feared, yes, but loved? Respected? Hardly.

“Leave him out of this,” I snapped, my voice colder than ice.

Aries held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m just saying, Lyriq. There’s a fine line between strength and cruelty. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up crossing it.”

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to lash out. He didn’t understand. He hadn’t lived through what I had. He hadn’t watched his mother suffer, hadn’t been forced to survive in a world where weakness was a death sentence.

“You don’t know anything about me, Aries,” I said, my voice low. “Don’t presume to lecture me.”

Aries sighed, his expression softening slightly. “Maybe I don’t. But I know one thing—if you keep shutting people out, pushing them away, you’re going to end up just like him. Alone. Bitter. Hated.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp, slicing through the tension like a blade. I stared at him, feeling the old anger flare up, the familiar bitterness rising in my chest. But beneath it, buried deep, was something else—something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Without another word, I turned and stormed out of the room, the cold night air hitting me like a slap to the face. The stars were barely visible through the thick clouds, casting the world in darkness.

Aries’s words echoed in my mind. Was he right? Was I becoming just like the man I’d sworn I’d never be?

I didn’t have an answer. And that, more than anything, terrified me.