Chapter 2 The Golden Wolf

• I set the meatloaf down on the long oak dining table, the scent wafting through the air like a forgotten promise.
• Laughter echoed from the living room.
• Father, usually buried in Alpha Council meetings and Ashveil Pack’s logistics, sat comfortably, listening intently as Sera gushed about her time at Wolfsbane Academy.
• “We practiced under the pack elder Greyfang,” she said, eyes shining. “He said I had the instincts of a born Alpha—strong enough to lead any pack.”
• Mother clutched Sera’s hand, eyes shimmering with emotion.
• “My sweet girl. You’ve lost weight, haven’t you? You need more rest—too much time in training will weaken your wolf and dull your senses.”
• Rafe sat beside them, still dutifully peeling chestnuts like some Beta servant.
• I stood quietly at the threshold between the kitchen and living room—watching, never invited.
• That room was warm, bright, full of voices and attention.
• This room—mine—was quiet, dim. Forgotten.
• Sera’s voice rose with performative sweetness.
• “Kiera, why are you just standing there? Still mad at me for ruining your ceremony?”
• The conversation screeched to a halt.
• Three pairs of eyes turned toward me like I was a problem that had just come back.
• Father’s brow furrowed.
• “Kiera, come here. Don’t sulk.”
• Mother gave me that impatient look—the one that always followed whenever Sera cried.
• “You’re the one who picked that unfortunate date. Sera had just landed, we were all exhausted from the airport run. You know that, don’t you?”
• Then came the dagger.
• “If you’re going to be petty with your sister, then you’re no daughter of mine.”
• Sera gasped, wide-eyed and full of faux concern.
• “Mom, don’t be so harsh. Kiera will feel hurt…”
• But her smirk said otherwise.
• She knew my ceremony date. I told her a week in advance.
• She even replied:
• “Can’t wait! Got a surprise planned for you.”
• What a surprise, indeed.
• Since we were pups, Sera had always managed to turn every situation into a test—one where the pack had to choose.
• They always picked her.
• Even my mate chose her.
• I should’ve felt something—anger, betrayal, sadness.
• But there was only... stillness.
• “I’m not angry.”
• Those three words sliced through the tension like claws through bark.
• Everyone stared.
• Father blinked.
• Mother narrowed her eyes.
• Sera tilted her head with a mock-confused pout.
• They had expected a tantrum, not serenity.
• Which meant... they knew what they did would hurt me.
• They just didn’t care enough to stop.
• Father exhaled and forced a smile.
• “Good. That’s good. We’re a pack. We don’t hold grudges.”
• “Of course,” I said, nodding with perfect obedience.
• It was the same voice I used to speak to the Elder wolves during full moon rituals.
• The relief in their eyes was instant.
• They turned their attention back to Sera.
• Dinner began.
• The maid had added several dishes besides my meatloaf—crab legs, lemon garlic scallops, all Sera’s favorites.
• “You’re too thin,” Father murmured, piling food onto her plate.
• “Eat more. You’ll need your strength before the orchestral trial,” Mother added, dabbing her eyes again.
• Rafe chimed in with a grin.
• “Don’t worry. If any of those city wolves give you trouble, I’ll rip their throats out.”
• Sera laughed, her silver hair gleaming in the light.
• “No need. I’ve got this.”
• They all chuckled.
• I ate in silence, the warmth of the meatloaf doing little to thaw the cold within me.
• Then, for the first time that evening, Mother glanced at me.
• She hesitated. Picked up a spoonful of meatloaf and placed it on my plate.
• “Try it. Don’t think we don’t care about you just because we fuss over Sera. I care about you too.”
• The words felt... rehearsed. Like a line from a script she’d used too often.
• I looked down at the food, then slowly set my utensils down.
• “No. I’m full.”
• Her expression shifted—first startled, then irritated.
• “What’s wrong with you lately?”
• She started to say more, but Sera suddenly clutched her throat, eyes wide.
• “Mom… I… I can’t breathe—”
• Her voice cracked, breath rasping.
• She staggered backward, knocking over her chair.
• Panic erupted instantly.
• “Sera!” Mother screamed.
• “What’s happening?!” Father stood so fast the table shook.
• Rafe was already at her side, sniffing her neck and face for signs of poison, his Beta instincts flaring.
• “Her scent’s spiking—something’s wrong!”
• My heart thudded in my chest, not from fear, but from the quiet, twisted irony of it all.
• In the chaos, no one noticed me standing completely still—just watching.
• Veyla’s voice stirred faintly in my mind.
• She’s not choking, Kiera. She’s shifting. Something inside her is waking.