Chapter 25 Step Sister
Kael
The word "father" hung in the air, lingering long after Elena had spoken it. I stood frozen, not even daring to utter a word, as that single word coiled around my throat like a heavy chain. Father. I had heard it a thousand times from Rowan, but it still felt foreign to me. It just didn’t resonate, especially when it came to Lira.
I forced a nod, keeping my expression blank, pretending it didn’t stir something deep inside me. But when my gaze met Lira’s, I caught the look, the hurt, the confusion, the same disbelief swirling within me. That’s when the guilt crashed over me, she didn’t deserve any of this. Not a bit of it.
The garden had fallen silent. Rowan stood still, his eyes darting between me and Lira, bracing for my reaction. The recruits looked like they wished the earth would just open up and swallow them whole. My wife, Lira’s mother, still wore a smile, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside me.
I couldn’t stay there any longer.
“Training is over,” I finally said. My voice came out the same, controlled and filled with authority as usual, but it didn’t feel like my own. “Everyone, dismissed.”
No one protested. The recruits scattered quickly, relief washing over their faces. My wife lingered a moment longer, her hand gently resting on my arm as if to soothe me, or pat me for a job well done. “Kael, please don’t be too hard on Rowan,” she said softly. “He’s just trying to protect our family, what good is he as an older brother if he doesn’t correct his sister when she’s wrong?.”
“Step sister,” Rowan interjected. I shot him a glare that wiped the smug look off his face.
Ny gaze returned to Elena, I nodded briefly, though her words barely registered. My focus soon shifted back to Lira. She hadn’t budged an inch, just standing there, staring at the ground, her hair falling over her face, concealing everything I didn’t want to confront.
I should’ve turned away. I should’ve walked out. But I didn’t. I just couldn’t. That was the moment I truly realized I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I never saw her as my daughter. If I had, I wouldn’t feel my heart race when I looked at her. I wouldn’t think of her when the house fell silent at night. I wouldn’t feel that surge of anger when someone else touched her.
I wouldn’t see her face shimmering with pleasure while she squirms underneath me. I wouldn’t think about the softeners of her thighs each time I close myself and lay on my hardened pillows.
No father should feel that way. And that guilt, the kind that gnawed at me, wasn’t because I misjudged her. It was because I knew I had no choice but to do so, and I couldn’t change it. At least not for the moment.
“Lira.” My voice came out low, almost a whisper. She lifted her head slightly, her eyes locking onto mine. There was something so delicate in her expression, something that made me want to reach out and mend it, even though I was the one shattering it.
Fuck fate!
“Go to my study,” I instructed. “Wait for me there.” She hesitated, clearly confused, but she complied. She always did.
Elena turned to me, her eyes bore all the questions her mind carried, and I didn’t need to hear a single word from her to know why she looked at me the way she did.
“There are other ways to discipline her, I’d see to it.” I said to Elena, but it caught Lira’s attention as well. She turned quickly, gave me a brief look, her feelings were masked by her blank expression, but I knew her thoughts like I could read them. After staring at me for a nanosecond, she continued to my study. Her steps started off slow, then quickened, and I watched her until she vanished down the hallway.
As soon as she was out of sight, I turned to Rowan. His arms were crossed, his mouth set in that stubborn line that reminded me far too much of his mother. “You need to learn to control your anger,” I said, keeping my tone steady, though there was an edge to it. He frowned. “She—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted. “Whatever excuse you’re about to give, just don’t.”
He slumped his shoulders in defeat, although I could see the struggle within him, his pride desperately trying to hold on. The others nearby shifted awkwardly, caught in a dilemma of whether to stay put or make a quick exit. They were acting based off Rowan’s order, but they still needed to be punished.
“She’s your step-sister, Rowan,” I said calmly. “That means your authority over her has its limits. You don’t raise your hand to her. You don’t talk to her like you did today. Not ever again.”
The atmosphere grew tense in an instant. I could feel the weight of their gazes on me, on us. The recruits probably thought I was taking on a fatherly role, like an Alpha reminding his son of the pack’s hierarchy. Even my wife’s expression morphed from confusion to pride, as if she believed she was witnessing a noble act of discipline.
But they didn’t get it.
I wasn’t speaking as her father. I wasn’t protecting her out of obligation or blood ties. I was speaking as a man who couldn’t stand to see her in pain.
Because she was mine.
Not in name. Not in title. But in every unspoken way that truly mattered to me. That realization weighed heavily in my chest, and it scared me. But it was the only truth that ever felt genuine. If only I had known this before I married Elena. She wouldn’t be caught up in a web of deceit.
Rowan didn’t say anything else. His expression hardened, but he nodded. The moment dragged on until it became unbearable. I finally turned away, done with it all.
The house felt quieter than usual when I stepped inside. The air was pregnant with everything I hadn’t said. I moved through the hallways slowly, trying to calm the storm brewing in my mind.
But tonight, even that word control felt like a deception. When I reached the door, I hesitated. My hand lingered on the handle for a moment as I tried to gather myself.
Maybe she was just sitting there quietly, like I had asked her to. I imagined talking to her calmly, explaining everything, apologizing for the chaos and confusion, for all the things I kept bottled up inside. Maybe.
I pushed the door open.
The lamp on my desk was still glowing, casting a shadows across the room. The window was slightly ajar, and the curtains danced gently in the night breeze. A faint scent lingered in the air hers.But she wasn’t there.
I scanned the room, by the chair, near the window, by the bookshelf where she always pretended to read when she didn’t want to meet my gaze. Nothing.
“Lira?” I called softly.
Silence.
I stepped further inside, half-hoping she’d pop out from some hidden corner. But the silence only grew heavier. The guilt washed over me again, more intense this time. I should’ve known she wouldn’t wait. She never did when things felt too overwhelming. She always ran, into the woods, to the gardens, anywhere she could find some air.
But this time, I sensed it was more than just needing to breathe. She’d heard her mother call me her father. She’d seen me standing next to that woman. And she’d watched me do nothing while it all unfolded.
Of course she ran.
I stood there in the middle of the study, staring at the empty chair, I tried to convince myself I was angry, that she disobeyed, that she left without saying a word, but deep down, that wasn’t the truth. I wasn’t angry. I was scared.