Chapter 19 19
ARIELLE'S POV
I practically ran the whole way home, my lungs burning, not from the effort but from the need to put as much distance as possible between me and that house, that gaze. I burst through the main doors of our packhouse, the heavy wood slamming shut behind me with a satisfyingly final thud. I stood in the grand living room, bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
That’s when I saw her.
My mother.
She wasn’t in her office, buried under treaties and alliance agreements like she always was at this early hour. She was standing right there in the middle of the living room, dressed in her usual severe, dark clothes, dismissing a Gamma with a curt nod.
The Gamma hurried off, and her eyes, those fierce, knowing eyes, locked onto me.
My heart, which had just started to slow, kicked right back into a frantic gallop.
Why is she here?
She approached me, her steps silent on the rug. The air around her felt heavy, charged.
“Where did you go?” she asked. Her voice was deceptively calm, the kind of calm that comes right before a storm breaks.
The old, automatic lie sprang to my lips. “Around…”
She didn’t let me finish. She cut in, her voice sharpening like a blade. “Do not lie to me. I know you stepped out of our territory. The gate sentries reported it.”
The accusation, the proof, it hit me like a physical slap. All the tension from the morning—the panic, the humiliation, the sheer weirdness of it all—boiled over.
“Yes, I did!” I blurted out, the words exploding from me. “I dropped by Dead Moon Pack, just to—” I stopped dead, my own words echoing in my ears. The severity of the truth I’d just spilled sank in, cold and heavy.
The change in her was instantaneous. All the controlled calm was shattered. “Dead Moon Pack?” Her voice dropped, becoming dangerously quiet. Then it rose, not in volume so much as in sheer, blistering intensity. “I thought I asked you—I ordered you—never to go there! Why do you constantly disobey me?!”
Her anger, usually so cold and contained, was white-hot. It felt personal, deeper than just a broken rule. It ignited my own frustration, a dry tinderbox ready to blaze.
“You give me so many restrictions, it’s too much to bear!” I shot back, my voice cracking. “I can’t breathe! I’m tired, god…!”
I saw her hand rise. It wasn’t a dramatic wind-up, just a swift, furious motion. My eyes shut tight on instinct, my whole body bracing for the sting, for the shame of being struck by my own mother in the middle of our home. I braced for the impact, my shoulders hunching.
But it didn’t come.
Instead, a familiar voice, gentle and firm, broke through the furious silence. “Serena…”
I kept my eyes shut. I couldn’t open them. I didn’t want to see the look on her face—the great, gaping disappointment I knew would be there. I felt horrible.
I’d upset her again, cracked that icy exterior, and all I had wanted to do was see my friend. The guilt was a sour taste in my mouth.
I stood there, trembling, eyes squeezed shut, for what felt like an eternity. When I finally mustered the courage to open them, blinking against the light, she was already walking away. Not toward me, but past me, her back straight and rigid, heading not upstairs but toward the west wing of the house, definitely taking the back way out to the training grounds. To hit something, probably. To run until the fury burned itself out.
Then someone stepped up beside me. A hand, soft and wrinkled, settled on my shoulder. It wasn’t Quinta’s gnarled grip. This touch was lighter, infused with a different kind of warmth.
I looked over.
Granny.
She smiled at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners, a map of kindness. “Arielle, dear.” She reached up and cupped my cheek, her thumb brushing away a traitorous tear I hadn’t even felt fall. Her hand smelled like rosewater and old books.
“You’re back,” I whispered, my voice thick.
“Yes, dear. Quinta told me you had a little… disagreement with your mother a few days ago.” Her tone was mild, non-judgmental.
I managed a weak smile, not wanting to rehash that particular disaster, and just leaned into her, wrapping my arms around her slight frame in a tight hug. She felt like solid ground in an earthquake.
“Can’t you just live here, Granny?” I mumbled into her shoulder, laying out one of my oldest, most desperate wishes. “You know Mother wouldn’t bother me half as much if you did. She listens to you.”
“Oh, my child,” she sighed, her hand patting my back. “I’m sorry. My place is in the elders’ village now. This is the Alpha’s house.” She pulled away, holding me at arm’s length, her gaze understanding but firm.
Quinta appeared, looking at me with a smile.
“Quinta does her best,” I said, glancing as the old woman herself appeared in the doorway, her face etched with concern. “She saves me from Mother’s worst, but still…” I trailed off, the ‘still’ hanging in the air. Still, it’s not enough. Still, I feel alone.
Granny gave me that all-seeing look, then exchanged a silent glance with Quinta, a whole conversation passing between them in a second. I didn’t have the energy to decipher it.