Chapter 65 65
ARIELLE'S POV
She looked at me then, really looked, and I saw a flash of something—irritation, maybe disappointment—in her steely eyes before it was shuttered away.
“Don’t act all responsible,” she said, her tone dry.
Quinta, ever the diplomat, chirped in. “Well, your daughter has grown to be responsible, Serena. You just never noticed.”
Grandma smiled, adding softly, “She’s just like you were at her age. Right?”
My mother just rolled her eyes, a gesture so strangely mundane it was more shocking than any Alpha command. “Just ask when you need my financial aid.”
“I won’t,” I repeated, clinging to my fragile independence. “I’ll take care of my needs myself.”
I saw it then, a flicker of plain displeasure in her eyes. It was there and gone, masked behind a wall of cool indifference.
“Suit yourself, then.” And with that, she turned. No hug. No touch. Not even a ‘be careful.’ She just walked back into her study, the door not quite closing behind her, as if I were an errand she’d already forgotten.
Fine, I thought, a fierce heat blooming in my chest. I’ll come back as someone you’ll be proud of. I’ll ensure that.
The sound of a car pulling up the gravel drive saved me. I checked my phone. “My taxi is here. I’m leaving now.”
“Why on earth did you book a ride?” Quinta frowned. “You could have had one of the Gammas take you there, silly girl.”
“I could have, too,” Sheila hissed, playing her part perfectly. She tossed her hair. “But I’m sure Miss Independent wants to be all dependent on herself. Duh.”
I almost smiled. It wasn’t a jab; it was a shield. Sheila understood better than anyone that I couldn’t let anyone from the pack drive me. They’d see the destination. They’d know I wasn’t going to the college dormitories, but to the quiet, rented apartment in Dead Moon Pack. The fallout would be catastrophic.
But then, I noticed Aunt Everly. Her eyes twitched, just a tiny movement, like she’d caught the scent of something off.
Our eyes locked. Hers held a sudden, calculating intensity.
“It would be better,” she stated, her voice carrying down with crystal clarity, “if I took you to the college dormitories myself. A direct drop-off. Then, even though you’re wolfless, folks won’t think twice before messing with you. They’ll see you arrive under Fang Storm Female Gammas General’s wing.”
My eyes widened. I gulped, my carefully constructed plan cracking. “It’s… it’s not necessary,” I managed, almost stuttering.
“It is,” she stated, her gaze hardening. Something was fishy, and she knew it.
Oh my god, what now? Panic, cold and slick, started to climb my spine.
I was speechless, my mind scrambling for a plausible lie. Sheila spoke up, her voice bright and reasonable. “Mother, with respect, I don’t think that’s a good idea for Arielle's image.” She threw an arm around my shoulders. “If you roll up in the Gamma General-mobile, everyone will just see her as the girl who needs her pack’s protection. They’ll think less of her right from the start. She needs to walk in on her own two feet. Right, Arielle?”
I nodded, seizing the lifeline. “Yes. Exactly. I don’t even want anyone aside from the administration to know I’m an Alpha’s daughter. I want to be… normal. Just another student.”
Aunt Sheila’s eyes, which had been hard with suspicion, softened. A shadow passed through them—a memory, perhaps, of her own youth, of wanting to be seen for herself. She gave a slow, reluctant nod. “I can understand that.”
I almost let out a shuddering sigh of relief but held it in, turning it into a shaky smile.
Sheila quickly hugged me again, and I whispered into her hair, “Thank you.”
She pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “No cap, bestie,” she said, using her newest human slang. We both chuckled, the tension breaking. Then she added, more seriously, “I’ll be coming to give you company. I’ll visit from time to time.”
“Hey, don’t sneak out,” I warned back in a whisper, my eyes darting up to ensure her mother wasn’t listening.
“No. Don’t worry,” she whispered back. “I’ll be discreet.” She gave me a final, loud peck on the cheek. “Now go, before your taxi charges you for waiting.”
Borin carried my box out to the waiting car. I gave one last wave to the small, beloved group in the doorway—Quinta, Grandma, Aunt Everly, Sheila blowing a dramatic kiss.
My gaze lifted, just once, to the balcony. She was still there. My mother. She wasn’t waving. She wasn’t smiling. She was just watching, a solitary, unmovable figure against the grey stone of our house.
Quinta caught the direction of my look and smiled, a sad, knowing little smile.
This was a new phase of my life. And as the taxi pulled away, crunching down the long drive, I held onto a single, stubborn thread of hope. My mother hadn’t said anything kind. She hadn’t offered a blessing. But as she watched me leave, I was sure, in some deep, unspoken part of me, that she wished me well above everyone else. I think maybe, one day, Quinta would be able to ascertain that for me again.
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The drive was a blur of changing landscapes. The dense, familiar forests of Fang Storm territory gave way to open fields, then to the sprawling, rougher outskirts of various packs before approaching Dead Moon lands. The taxi driver, a human, made a cheerful, oblivious conversation about the weather. I paid him off a few blocks from my actual destination, just in case.
The walk to the Dead Moon pack’s main entrance gates was uneventful. I kept my head down, my scent muted by human-made soaps and the lingering taxi smells. From there, it was another five-minute walk to the quiet, residential street where my new apartment waited.
I stopped at the edge of the lawn, my luggage box at my feet. The air here was different, drier, carrying the scent of unfamiliar pine and distant, cold stone. I looked around. The place was quiet. Neat. The lawn looked freshly mowed, the flower beds weeded. One less thing to do.
I walked to the porch, the wooden steps seeming to creak a welcome. My hand was reaching for the railing when I froze, my foot hovering above the first step.
From inside the house, a low, rough groan. It wasn't quite pain. It was something else, something that tightened the skin on the back of my neck. A sound swallowed, thick and private.
Then, my name. A hard, rough whisper, forced out between gritted teeth.
"Arielle!"
It wasn’t a call. It was a possession. Someone was in my house. Someone who possibly knew me, making sounds that had no business echoing off these empty walls.
The sound of it, knowing, and intimate sliced through the quiet afternoon. Caution turned my blood to ice. I lowered my luggage box silently and moved toward the door. It stood slightly open, a dark gap against the frame. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs. I didn't knock. I didn't call out. I just pushed.
The door swung inward without a sound.
Late afternoon light cut through the dusty air in sharp, golden bars, painting the empty dimlit living room floor.
My eyes widened. My jaw dropped.