Three years into my paralysis, Ethan came home from the border — and he didn’t come back alone. He’d brought a woman with him. I was mid-swing, hand raised to strike Ash again, when the words flickered across my vision like a broadcast only I could see. [Look at the villainess go. Still throwing tantrums from a wheelchair. Didn’t learn a thing.] [The General and his mate already bonded on the battlefield. Once he rejects her completely, she’s done.] [And her own son will watch without blinking as she’s driven out of the Pack House to rot in the Outcast Woods. Serves her right.] [Our girl Seraphine gets everything she deserves after this. She’ll make the perfect mate for the General~] My hand froze mid-air. I glanced at the father and son across the room — identical expressions of cold indifference, waiting for my next outburst. When I lowered my arm without striking, both of them frowned. I let out a dry, hollow laugh. “Ethan. You want to bring her into the pack. Fine. I consent.” Silence. Ethan lifted his head and looked at me, a flicker of something like disbelief in his eyes. I caught myself. A man like him — he’d never make someone he actually wanted settle for a lesser rank. I waved a hand. “If you want to name her your official mate, I don’t care. Whatever you need.” Ethan’s frown deepened. He was kneeling on the floor, spine perfectly straight, wearing the particular look of impatience he reserved only for me. “Lara. What are you playing at now?” “Is this another scheme to get the Council to strip my rank? Take my border commendations?” I opened my mouth — but Ash spoke first. Eight years old, crouched on the floor, the welts from my cane still visible across his back. His voice was flat, as though narrating someone else’s problem. “Mom. Are you finished?” “If so, I’ll take my leave. I have assignments to finish.” The feed scrolled past again. [See? Even her son can’t stand being in the same room with her for one more second. She earned that.] [She burned through every ounce of his love, one screaming fit at a time. What did she expect?] [She’s probably scheming to cry to the Alpha once Ethan accepts Seraphine. Save your breath — after three years of this, even the General is done with her.] I pressed my lips together. My brother was sick of me. I knew that. Ever since the fall three years ago — the ravine, the shattered spine, the wheelchair — my wolf had grown more and more volatile. And I’d grown with her. I hated that I couldn’t walk to the bathroom without help. I hated watching other women draw close to Ethan and being able to do nothing. I hated that raising a cane took everything I had left. So I snapped. I raged. I made sure everyone kept looking at me. I had forgotten that no one’s patience is infinite. Not my brother’s. Certainly not Ethan’s. And not Ash’s either. I looked at the boy in front of me — eight years old, spine straight, welts across his back, face utterly blank. I pushed my wheelchair forward. Tried to reach for him. Ash shifted back on his knees before I could touch him, putting distance between us. His knuckles were white where they pressed the floor. Then he rose, unhurried, and didn’t look at me once. “It seems you have nothing else. I’ll go find my tutor.” He turned and walked out. At the doorway, I caught a flash of pink fabric disappearing around the corner. The feed lit up again. [How long is the villainess going to keep hogging the General? Seraphine’s been standing outside this whole time!] [They shared a saddle on the whole ride back from the border. They already did anything they can do. And last night — they held each other for warmth.] [Our girl deserves everything~] My chest felt as though a fist had closed around it. That flash of pink — that was Seraphine. The woman Ethan had brought back from the border. She was a medic embedded with his unit. She’d saved his life three times. The third time, he had carried her out of the massacre with his own hands, and after that, he’d never looked at anyone else the same way. I drew a slow breath. I’d been too reckless, too long. My brother had grown tired of me. My legs were broken and I depended on everyone. The feed said my ending was the Outcast Woods. Even so, I raised my head and looked at Ethan. “She’s been waiting outside. Go to her.” Ethan’s expression stilled. He held my gaze for a long moment, said nothing, stood, and left. The door clicked shut. Through the wood, I heard Seraphine’s soft voice: “Are you alright, Ethan?” And his low reply: “Fine.” I looked down at my legs — useless, unfeeling — and found myself smiling. But tears hit the backs of my hands without warning.
Ethan had probably forgotten. Eight years ago, he had ridden through every street of the city, howling my name to anyone who would listen — telling the whole pack that Lara Wren was the only woman he would ever claim as his mate. Even the Alpha had heard about it. He had tracked down the rarest white wolf-pelt from the northern borderlands and had it rushed back by courier, all because I ran cold. For eight years after that, he had given me real, tangible love. So when I woke up at the bottom of that ravine, legs gone, and the pack doctor confirmed I would never walk again — I hadn’t cried. I had come apart entirely. I had believed Ethan would hold me through all of it, unconditionally. I was wrong. Love has limits. And enough of the wrong things can erode it. Family bonds. Mate bonds. Both. Three years of volatility had cost me not just Ethan but Ash — my son had slowly gone quiet inside my daily storms, until one day he simply stopped coming to me at all. He no longer told me about the funny things that happened at his lessons. He no longer trailed after me asking for the honey cakes I used to make. I tilted my head back. The tears came faster. An empty room. Just the sound of my own muffled crying. Lara, you really did this to yourself. You had something good and you ground it to nothing. I swallowed the ache, refused to let myself look back any further, and when the worst of it had passed, I wheeled myself to find Ash. I had brought medicine for his welts. I hadn’t even reached his door when I heard Seraphine’s voice inside. “Ash, sweetheart. Hold still — almost done.” I stopped. Through the gap in the door I could see Seraphine perched on the edge of the bed, carefully pressing salve into the marks on Ash’s back. The boy lay flat and still, not making a sound. They looked like a mother and child. The feed drifted past. [Seraphine is so gentle. This is what a real mother looks like.] [Ash must be so moved. When has the villainess ever once tended to his wounds? All she ever does is make new ones.] [Exactly. Does she even deserve to be called his mother?] My fingers tightened around the medicine jar. Behind me, footsteps. Ethan had appeared at my back, studying me with a furrowed brow. “What are you doing here?” He glanced at the jar in my hands, then at the scene through the door. His voice was flat. “You can’t move easily. Stop wandering.” I swallowed the sting and pushed through the door. “I came to dress Ash’s wounds.” Ash turned at the sound of my voice. Eight years old, and already his face had stopped carrying expressions around me. He looked at me and the corner of his mouth pulled into something thin and cutting. “Mother’s hands are too fine for this kind of work.” “Besides — I should thank you. You’re the one who gave me all these marks.” He turned over. His back was covered in crossing welts. I went still. I had struck him countless times over the years. Every time, he had said nothing — appeared the next morning as though nothing had happened. I had never understood, until now, how hard I had been hitting. The feed erupted. [Is she even human? He’s a child!] [Thank the moon for Seraphine. She was thinking about him even during the border campaign — brought him a carved toy horse. Worth ten of that woman.] I followed the feed’s gaze to the bedside table. A small wooden horse sat there, delicately carved — clearly not from anything sold in the city. Ash finished dressing, climbed down from the bed, and stepped in front of the horse — half-shielding it behind him — then looked up at me. “Do you need something else?” His eyes were cold. Ethan stood at his side, watching me with the same chill. It felt like a needle pressed between my ribs. I looked away and left. Back in my room, I dug through the chest at the foot of my bed until I found a small carved pendant at the very bottom. My brother Dominic had made it for me when I was five. I could still hear his voice, lifting me over his head, laughing. “Lara. I’ll always be here.” I closed my fist around it and felt a sudden, overwhelming need to see him. I sent a message through the pack channel asking for a visit. The reply took a long time. When it came back, the messenger wouldn’t meet my eyes. “The Alpha says… he has pack business today. He asks that you come another time.” A pause, then: “He also says — if you need anything from the house, to request it through the steward.” I gave a small, bitter smile. Understood. My brother was done with me too. Dusk came. I had dinner brought to my room, ate a few bites, and set it aside. Ethan didn’t come. In the early years after battle campaigns, he had always spent the first nights back in my room. Tonight I waited until long past midnight. He never appeared. The feed drifted past, lazy and merciless. [Don’t bother waiting. He’s in Seraphine’s room.] [It’s their honeymoon phase. Of course they’re together. Stop embarrassing yourself.] [He came home at all. Be grateful.] I blew out the candle and lay in the dark, staring at nothing. It’s fine. It’s normal. He loves Seraphine. It’s normal.
I woke to thunder. My body curled inward before I was fully conscious. I had been afraid of storms my whole life. As a child, Dominic had held me through them. After the mating, Ethan had. Tonight — The door opened. Ethan walked in fast, still dressed from the day, his expression tight with something urgent. He found me folded into the corner of the bed, crossed to me immediately, and sat. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” He drew me against his chest. My cheek pressed to him. I heard his heartbeat — quick, steady. I breathed him in and held on. I wanted to ask him to stay longer. But before I could speak, he pulled back. “You’re alright. Good.” “Seraphine needs me. I should check on her.” The feed lit up instantly. [Oh, she actually thought he came for her. Hilarious.] [He came out of duty. Nothing more. Whatever he felt for her is long gone.] [Did you see his eyes? Not a flicker of real tenderness.] [Back to our girl now. Bye.] The door closed. Thunder still rolling outside. I sat up slowly and watched the lightning cut through the window, one strike after another. I thought about what the feed had said my ending would be. Driven out of the Pack House. Left to rot in the Outcast Woods. I gripped the edge of my blanket. And felt, quite suddenly, a very clear want. The next morning, I asked my attendant to contact a neutral escort service — human couriers who operated outside pack territory. Not to move cargo. To move a person. My whole life I’d been confined — first in the Alpha’s compound where I grew up, then in the General’s Pack House. When I could still walk, I was never allowed far. Now that I couldn’t, I was allowed nowhere at all. But I wanted to go out. I wanted to see something wider than these four walls. Even if I died on the road. Better than rotting in here. The escort liaison had barely left when Ethan appeared. He spotted the business card on the table and frowned. “What do you need an escort service for?” I slipped the card into my lap, calm. “Nothing important. Sending something to Dominic’s.” Ethan looked at me once, didn’t press, and left. Same as always. I swallowed something bitter and went back to packing my things. That evening I sent another message to Dominic — I wanted him there for my birthday. Just once more, before I left. He declined before the message had even settled. “The Alpha has a full schedule. A birthday celebration happens every year. Skip it this once.” I had been talking myself through it from the moment I sent the message: it’s not practical, it’s fine to skip it. Then the formal announcement came through. An official pack decree: Seraphine, for distinguished service during the border campaign, was hereby granted the title of Pack-Honored and a celebration in her name. When I raised my head, Seraphine was framed in the doorway — pale rose dress, face like something in bloom. Ethan stood beside her. His eyes were soft in a way I hadn’t seen in years. The feed came alive. [Your own brother would rather throw a party for a stranger than see you. That’s how done with you he is.] [No Alpha’s protection, no General’s love, no family — you’re just a paralyzed woman with no place in this pack anymore.] [Look at the way he looks at her though~ so sweet~] My fists tightened until my fingers went white. He hadn’t been busy. He just didn’t want to see me. Ash stepped out from the inner courtyard and bowed to Seraphine, perfectly formal. “Congratulations, Seraphine.” He didn’t look at me once. I wheeled myself back to my room and sat looking at the emptiness. The attendants had begun moving things — not my things. Seraphine’s. She was being given rooms. Ethan was escorting her. The entire Pack House, and I was the only one left in it. No — not quite. There were the crutches propped against the wall. And my own shadow. I looked down at my legs, and found myself smiling. Fine. Quiet, at least. I pushed slowly back to my room and curled my fingers around the small carved pendant. Dominic didn’t want me. Ash didn’t want me. Ethan didn’t want me. That was alright. I still had myself.
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