CHAPTER FOUR

The whiskey bottle was half-empty. Half-full. Who the hell even cares?

Ethan stared into the glass, his hand shaking slightly. Harper's face kept flashing in his mind. Those last moments. That look in her eyes. "I tried..." she had whispered. And then nothing.

He knocked back another drink, wincing at the burn. The kitchen was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that screamed louder than any sound.

His phone buzzed. He ignored it. Probably Riley checking on him. Or worse, someone from the pack.

Fuck the pack.

Fuck everything.

Another drink. The liquid blurred the edges of the memory. But not enough. Never enough. Memories tainted by blood are difficult to erase. They become a part of you as they absorb into your bones, skin, heart and soul. Harper's passing left a scar that would never completely go away.

The kitchen light suddenly clicked on. Ethan didn't move. Didn't look up. Just kept staring into the glass, watching the whiskey swirl like the memories he couldn't escape.

"You're drinking?" His mother, Luna Valeria’s voice was sharp. Disapproving.

Ethan took another swig. "What does it look like?"

She yanked the bottle away. "You're supposed to be the pack's future. And here you are, drowning yourself in alcohol after what happened tonight."

Something inside him snapped. "What happened tonight?" he repeated, his voice rising. "You mean when Dad murdered Harper? When you just stood there and watched?"

His mother's eyes hardened. "Watch your tone."

"You're the Luna," Ethan spat. "The most powerful woman in the pack. And you did NOTHING while Dad killed a kid who was struggling with her first transformation."

“Ethan, you’ve no idea what it takes to lead this pack. The sacrifices—”

“Sacrifices?” Ethan cut her off, his laugh sharp and bitter. “You mean like sacrificing innocent kids to Dad’s ego? Yeah, I see the type of ‘sacrifices’ you are okay with.”

Her hands tightened into fists at her sides. “Your father does what needs to be done for the protection of this pack. One day, when you are Alpha, you will understand—”

“I’ll NEVER understand,” he spat, his voice trembling. “If being Alpha means becoming like him, then you can have it. I don’t want it.”

“That is enough!” she screamed, finally losing her temper. “You don’t get to be here and criticize us like you are some freaking saint. You think this is easy? Juggling power and responsibility and surviving? You have no clue what we have faced. What I have faced to hold this family and this pack together.”

“And you think that justifies it all?” Ethan’s voice fell. “You are no better than he is. You have let him be in charge for so long that you don’t even realize how low you have sunk.”

The slap was so quick he barely understood it. Her palm collided with his face hard enough to make his head whip to the side, and the crack echoed in the kitchen like a gun.

They both stood still for a moment.

Ethan’s hand went to his face, surprised more than anything else. “You hit me?”

Luna’s breathing was deep and uneven. Her wide eyes were still on fire, but they had something else in them now. Regret, perhaps. "You don't have the right to say that to me," she murmured, trembling. You really have no idea what it’s like to live this life. To be married to an Alpha? To raise children in this...in this world?”

“No, I don’t,” Ethan said, his voice slowly becoming composed. “But standing up for what’s right? Throwing yourself up against the man you married? That’s not even supposed to be up for debate!”

She flinched as if his words stung more than her own slap. “You deserve better,” Ethan continued, his tone becoming gentler. “So much better. You deserve someone who you can talk to. Someone who sees you. Not this...this shattered system we’re stuck in. Someone you’re not afraid to call out his bullshit. Someone who would hold you and tell you that it’s okay to be weak. To be yourself.”

As though she was about to speak, her mouth opened, then she changed her mind. “Get out," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper

"Gladly," Ethan muttered. He grabbed his jacket, heading for the door. But just as he reached it, he paused.

“I hope one day you see yourself the way I do,” he said, turning back to her. “Because when you do, you will realize you were stronger than him.”

Ethan slammed the door behind him, leaving his mother alone and forcing her to think about the choices she had made.

…

It had been a whole week, and Lydia hadn’t said more than a single sentence to her mother: “It’s either you tell me, or we keep living like this.” She had mastered the art of being there without really being there—physically present, but emotionally checked out.

Rebecca, her mother, had tried everything. Sweet words. Angry outbursts. Bribes. Even threats, in an attempt to make Lydia forget what had happened. But Lydia wasn't the type to let things go. She wasn't about to drop this. She was going to get answers whether anyone liked it or not.

When Rebecca walked through the door that evening after work, Lydia was sitting on the living room couch. The sight was almost shocking. She rarely sat anywhere but her room these days. Rebecca hesitated, unsure if she should say something or leave her be. But before she could decide, Lydia stood and began walking toward her room

"You're just special, Lydia," Rebecca said softly.

It was those words that made Lydia stop. Slowly, she turned

"Special?" she scoffed. "I'm not special. I'm someone who hurt people."

Rebecca's composure cracked. She sat down, her hand covering her face. "I see the marks they always put on you," she said, her voice breaking. "And I'm sorry. I know I never said anything. I was scared. Too scared to even talk about it." Tears started rolling down her cheeks.

Lydia, who hated seeing her mother cry, moved closer. She put her hand on her back, soothing her. “It's okay now," she murmured. "At least they can't hurt me again."

Rebecca looked up, her eyes red but suddenly determined. She grabbed Lydia's hands, her grip surprisingly strong. "I think it's time you go to school with your likes," she said.

Lydia frowned. "What do you mean, my likes?"

Rebecca hesitated, her lips trembling. She held Lydia’s hands tighter, struggling to find the right words. How could she explain a secret she had kept for so many years?

“Lydia, she began softly. "There are things about you about us that I never wanted to burden you with. Things I thought you might never have to face. But after what happened..." Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. "You need to know the truth."

"What truth?" she asked

Rebecca released a long breath she was unaware she had been holding and ran a hand over her hair. "You are different from everyone else, Lydia. You are special. Yes, but not in the manner you have always thought. You are...you are part of a different world."

"What are you talking about, Mom?" Lydia asked, pulling her hands back, looking completely lost. “What do you mean by a different world? I'm just me. There's nothing special about me except that I can apparently hurt people without meaning to."

Rebecca shook her head. "You're more than that, Lydia. Your father-" She stopped, as if the words physically hurt her. "Your father wasn't human."

Lydia just sat there, trying to wrap her head around what she was hearing. "What?" The word came out shaky.

Rebecca reached out, taking her hands again. "He was...a werewolf. And so are you."

There was total silence that if you drop a pin, the next house would hear it. Lydia just stared at her mom, trying to find something, anything in her face that said this was all some sick joke. But no, Rebecca's face was dead serious.

"A werewolf?" Lydia said, her voice barely audible. She let out a disbelieving laugh. "Mom, are you hearing yourself? That is not real. That can't be real."

"It is, Lydia, Rebecca said firmly. "Think about what happened in the woods. The way you...changed. The strength, the speed, the way you always heal so quickly. It is all part of who you are. Who you have always been."

Lydia shook her head, backing away. "No. No, this doesn't make sense. Werewolves don't exist. They're just...myths, stories."

"They are real, sweetheart.” Rebecca said, standing up and taking a step toward Lydia. "Your father's pack...they exist too. They are out there and I have been keeping you hidden from them your whole life."

Lydia's breath came in short, sharp gasps. "Why would you do that? Why hide me from them?"

"Because I was trying to protect you!" Rebecca's voice cracked. "I didn't want you to live that life. The politics, the danger... I wanted you to be normal. To have a chance at something better."

Lydia eyes flooding with tears, "Well, congratulations," She spat out, "That worked out perfectly, didn't it?"

Rebecca winced at her tone but she wasn’t backing down. "I know this is a lot to process, but you just... you have to trust me on this. There is a school—one for gifted youngsters like you. It is where you will feel safe, where you can be yourself without being viewed negatively, and where you will learn to manage what is happening to you."

"Safe?" Lydia scoffed. "You mean with a bunch of other people like me? People who can hurt others without even meaning to?"

Rebecca responded softly, "No, I mean people who can help you handle and understand it. People who know what it feels like and won't pass judgement on you. Lydia, you cannot continue to hide from yourself out of fear. You deserve answers. You deserve to understand who you really are.”

Lydia could not take her eyes off her mom. Her mind was blank. She kept opening her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Her whole life had been a lie? Just like that? She wanted to be mad maybe she should be mad but mostly she felt... weird. Like the time she found out Santa wasn't real, but a million times worse. At least then she'd just lost Santa. Now she'd lost... what? Who was she even supposed to be anymore?

After a while she managed to whisper, "And what if I do not want to?"

Rebecca's face softened. "Then we keep living like this. You and I, trying to figure it out on our own. But I think you know, deep down, that this is the right thing to do."

Lydia looked at her hands, the same hands that had reformed in the woods and hurt Amber and her girls. "I don't know, Mom. I don't know if I can do this."

Rebecca pulled Lydia into a hug. “You can, sweetheart. You can.”

Lydia hesitated for a moment before asking, “How are we going to afford this school? We don’t have money for tuition. I was on scholarship, and I messed that up. How will this even work?”

Rebecca smiled and gently pushed Lydia back to look her in the eye. “So, is that a yes?”

Lydia bit her lip but nodded. "Yeah, but we have no way of paying for it, you know."

Rebecca put away a stray strand of hair behind Lydia’s ear. “Don’t bother your pretty little head about that. I am your mom, remember? And it is my job to handle the big stuff. You just focus on being ready for what is ahead.”

Lydia gave a weak smile. “Okay...but you better not go selling your kidney or something.”

Rebecca laughed, stroking her cheek. “I’ll manage, Lydia. Just trust me on this. You’re worth everything. And I mean everything.”