Chapter 6 A Difficult Choice
(Thalia's POV)
The dream shatters.
I wake gasping, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, my heart racing like I've actually been running through forests. Early morning light filters through the gaps in the steel panels covering my window, painting prison-bar shadows across my floor.
Petra looks up from her book, eyebrow raised. "Nightmare?"
"Something like that." My voice comes out hoarse, and I realize my throat is raw like I've been screaming. Or howling.
I swing my legs out of bed, still shaking from the visceral reality of the dream. I can still feel phantom sensations, paws striking earth, wind in my fur, the satisfaction of the kill. And underneath it all, Lucien's presence, warm and certain and utterly forbidden.
Stop taking the suppressants.
The thought echoes with the weight of prophecy. Or temptation.
"I need to speak with my mother," I say, standing on unsteady legs.
Petra checks her watch. "It's barely six AM, Miss Thornewood. Your mother doesn't take meetings before eight."
"She'll make an exception." I move toward my closet, pulling out the first clothes my hands find. "Tell her it's about the intruder. Tell her I remembered something important."
It's not entirely a lie. I did remember something, or realize it, at least. Lucien was telling the truth. About the suppressants, about my wolf, about everything. My body knows it even if my mind still wants to resist.
The question is what I'm going to do about it.
Mother keeps me waiting in the formal sitting room for forty-five minutes. A power play, obviously. Reminding me that despite yesterday's violation of her security, she's still in control.
When she finally appears, she's already immaculately dressed and made up, looking like she's been awake for hours. Knowing her, she probably has been. Morrigan Thornewood doesn't need sleep the way ordinary people do, she runs on pure force of will and black coffee.
"This had better be important, Thalia. I have the Dragomir delegation arriving in three hours and significant preparations to finalize."
"It is." I remain seated, hands folded in my lap to project calm I don't feel. "I want the truth about my vitamins."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Don't insult my intelligence." The words come out sharper than intended. "The man who broke in last night told me you've been suppressing my wolf. Feeding me suppressants under the guise of health supplements. I want to know if it's true."
She's silent for a long moment, studying me with those calculating eyes. Finally, she moves to the sidebar and pours herself coffee with deliberate precision.
"Did he tell you why I would do such a thing?" Her tone is conversational, but I can hear the steel underneath. "If this accusation were true?"
"He said you're afraid of what I'll become. That a fully shifted wolf can't be manipulated."
"And you believed him? A Voss operative who broke into your room in the middle of the night?" She turns, coffee cup cradled in both hands. "Thalia, use your head. Why would I poison my own daughter?"
"That's what I'm asking you."
We stare at each other across the elegant space, expensive furniture, priceless art, all the trappings of power and wealth that have always felt more like a museum than a home.
"Fine." She sets down the cup with a decisive clink. "Yes. The vitamins contain suppressants. Have since you were five years old."
The admission steals my breath despite expecting it. Hearing her confirm it makes it real in a way speculation never could.
"Why?"
"Because your wolf is dangerous, Thalia. Not to me, to you." She moves closer, and for the first time in memory, her expression holds something almost like genuine concern. "You're not like other werewolves. The strength of your wolf, the power you'd have access to if you fully shifted...it's extraordinary. Unprecedented, actually."
"And that's bad because...?"
"Because you're untrained. Unprepared. If you shifted now, at nineteen, without the conditioning that begins in childhood, you'd lose control." Her voice drops. "You'd go feral, Thalia. You'd hurt people, maybe even kill them, and you wouldn't be able to stop yourself. I've seen it happen to other late-shift wolves. It's not pretty."
The explanation sounds reasonable. Almost convincing. But something in her tone sets off warning bells.
"So instead you keep me weak forever? Never let me access what I am?"
"I was planning to transition you. Gradually reduce the suppressants, work with specialized trainers, help you learn control before allowing full transformation." She sits across from me, leaning forward with apparent earnestness. "But then the Dragomir alliance became necessary, and I couldn't risk you shifting before the wedding. Casimir needs to believe you're manageable, controllable. If he suspects the truth about your power..."
"He'll what? Break the engagement?" Hope flares traitorously in my chest.
"He'll marry you anyway and then lock you in a gilded cage far more restrictive than anything I've imposed." Her expression hardens. "At least I'm family, Thalia. At least I have some incentive to eventually free you. Casimir will see you only as a resource to be controlled and exploited."
The words paint a grim picture. Trading one prison for another, with no hope of parole.
"What if I refuse to take the suppressants anymore?"
"Then you'll shift eventually and you'll lose yourself to the feral madness that comes with late emergence." She stands, smoothing her skirt with brisk efficiency. "Is that really what you want? To become a mindless beast that has to be put down for public safety?"
"You're lying." But my voice wavers, uncertainty creeping in.
"Am I? Or am I the only person telling you the truth while that Voss operative fills your head with romantic fantasies about freedom and power?" She moves toward the door, clearly considering this conversation finished. "Casimir arrives at nine AM. I expect you showered, dressed appropriately, and ready to make a good impression. Your engagement will be formally announced tonight at dinner."
"Mother..."
"Wear the blue dress. It brings out your eyes." She pauses at the doorway, looking back with an expression I can't quite read. "And Thalia? If that Voss wolf contacts you again, you will inform me immediately. He's not trying to save you. He's trying to use you. Don't be naive enough to believe otherwise."
She leaves, and I'm alone with my spiraling thoughts and the terrible realization that I have no idea who to trust.
The vitamins sit on my nightstand in their usual crystal dish. Petra delivers them every morning like clockwork, three small white pills that I've swallowed without question for as long as I can remember.
Stop taking the suppressants, Lucien's voice whispers from the dream. Let your wolf out.
You'll go feral, Mother's voice counters. You'll hurt people.
Both can't be right. But both sound convincing.
I stare at those three white pills and realize I'm standing at a crossroads. Take them, continue the suppression, marry Casimir, live the controlled life Mother has mapped out for me. Or refuse them, risk everything, and find out what I truly am, even if it destroys me.
The clock on the mantle chimes seven AM.
Two hours until my fiancé arrives.