Chapter 3 The Exile's Price

• A rash bloomed across Sera's skin like a warning from the moon goddess.
• "Is this… an allergic reaction?" Father barked, nostrils flaring as he hovered over her convulsing form. "Why would this happen now?"
• Mother’s gaze snapped to me like a dagger drawn under moonlight. In the next heartbeat, her palm collided with my cheek, sending me sprawling across the tiled floor.
• "Kiera! What did you put in the food? Have you forgotten your sister’s triggers?!"
• My head rang. The room swam. I could feel Veyla stir within me, a low growl rising in the depths of my chest. But I shoved her back, swallowing the heat clawing at my throat.
• Rafe stepped forward, eyes flashing in disbelief. "You were so quiet… so obedient. And now this? You meant to harm Sera."
• "How did I end up with a sister like you?" he added, his voice heavy with disappointment.
• "Enough!" Father slammed his fist on the table, the sound reverberating like thunder. "Get her to the healer now!"
• The room cleared in a blur—my parents and Rafe carrying Sera out, frantic and breathless, like she was the moon’s own fragile vessel.
• I was left alone, face throbbing, heart hollow.
• "It wasn’t me." I whispered the words aloud, but they echoed off the silence like lies.
• They wouldn’t believe me. They never did. Not after everything.
• I felt something wet and hot on my palm. The maid had returned, her eyes wide as she caught sight of my hands.
• "Lady Kiera… your hands… they’re—swollen."
• I looked down. Red lines bloomed across my skin like fire veins.
• "I’m fine," I lied, brushing past her.
• In my room, I reached for an old leather-bound notebook. As I opened its worn cover, the scent of old ink and pine dust rose—memories not even the wolf in me wanted to recall.
• That winter, prey was scarce. Rogues pushed at our borders, and the Council demanded more from Father than he could give. When resources thinned, when space and safety grew tight, someone had to be sent away.
• I volunteered. The obedient daughter. The easy one to forget.
• The outpost clung to the cliffs beyond the pack's borders—a place carved for old warriors and outcasts. No pack song reached that far. Only wind and silence. There, I learned everything.
• They visited once a year for Solstice rites. Each time, they stayed less. Brought more gifts for Sera. Spoke less of me.
• When I finally returned, the Ashveil Pack had grown stronger—courts and galleries echoing with pride. My new quarters? A forgotten supply room near the rear exit. No windows. No warmth. Just a reminder: I wasn’t part of the vision they built.
• I packed my things into a worn duffel.
• The wedding leave I had once requested felt laughable now.
• I was reaching for the phone, ready to send a message to my superior at outpost—requesting return to the outpost, when a call came.
• Tristan.
• My mate.
• Or at least, the one fate had paired me with. The one who should have stood by me.
• "What did you do to Sera?" he demanded, skipping any pretense of concern. "She’s in the healer’s hall. You poisoned her?"
• "It was an allergic reaction," I said simply.
• "Don’t lie to me. You’ve always been jealous. How could you hurt your own blood like that?"
• His words were fire, burning through any remaining illusion I had.
• "Yes. I hurt her. I’ll apologize when she recovers. Are we done?"
• He fell silent for a second, stunned by my calm.
• We’d argued about Sera before—dozens of times.
• He used to flirt with her under the pretense of concern. Ordered her favorite foods during our dinners. Ignored my needs, my wants.
• "She’s your sister," he always said, like that made everything acceptable.
• To my family, I was always the overreacting one. The unstable one.
• When Sera went to the Alpha training, I felt peace for the first time. Even Veyla had been calmer.
• Now, the storm had returned.
• "If anything happens to Sera again," Tristan warned, his voice cold, "there will be no mating ceremony."
• Then the line went dead.
• I pictured him rushing into the healer’s den, brushing hair from Sera’s face, playing the hero to the girl he truly wanted.
• My claws threatened to unsheathe.
• Instead, I smirked, hung up, and called my mentor back in the outpost.
• Later that night, the front door creaked open.
• Mother and Father returned, exhaustion painted across their faces. Rafe followed, his head low.
• My duffel sat by the door.
• I was ready to leave.
• From upstairs, I heard them speaking in hushed tones—until the silence cracked open with betrayal.
• "If only Tristan’s family had better standing," Mother sighed. "He’s so good to Sera…"
• "Sera likes him," Father added. "Had I known, I never would’ve paired him with Kiera."
• "Still," Mother continued, "Tristan and Kiera are more suited. Let Sera chase her dreams. He can still take care of her, even as Kiera’s mate."
• The words sank like stones in my gut.
• Even now, they planned to keep Sera close to my mate.
• To my mate.
• I descended the stairs, my presence sudden, cutting off their whispers.
• Mother flinched as she saw me.
• "Kiera… you—You’re still here?"
• I said nothing.
• Just grabbed my bag and walked into the night—into the cold air and the arms of the moon.
• Veyla stirred again. We were never one of them, Kiera. But we are not alone.
• I tilted my face skyward, letting the night wind carry my scent far from that house.
• From the pack that never truly saw me.
• From the mate who never chose me.
• Let them keep their false bonds.
• I would forge my own.
• The lights were off. Mother assumed I was asleep.
• She hadn’t expected me to overhear their discussion about giving up my mate, as if I were merely a placeholder in Selene’s shadow.
• When I walked past her, calm but cold, her face stiffened with fear.
• “I’m returning to the outpost,” I said flatly, ignoring the faint ache in my chest—the burn of betrayal that still lingered.
• Mother exhaled sharply, realizing I wasn’t about to explode. Father gave a curt nod, his approval silent. Good. Less trouble for the pack.
• Rafe, however, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at the duffel beside me.
• “You’re taking your things? Are you really running away because we’re upset about what happened to Selene?”
• “You think that little apology call makes it okay?”
• Their guilt from earlier—so fleeting—had already been replaced by righteousness. It always shifted like that: a second of shame, then back to their cold duty.
• “Your sister was hospitalized, Kiera,” Father growled. “And you haven’t even properly apologized.”
• The air thickened, like wolves closing in on their prey. I could feel Veyla pacing within me, her fur bristling, lips curling in warning.
• Call her, Veyla urged. Let them hear her lies for themselves.
• I took out my phone, dialed Sera’s number, and switched it to speaker.
• She picked up quickly—her voice soft, syrupy, laced with smugness like a wolf who thought she’d won.
• “Kiera? Oh. Is it because you found out Tristan is here with me? Are you angry?”
• The silence that followed was immediate. Even Rafe flinched.
• My parents exchanged a glance, the perfect image they had of Sera beginning to crack.
• I didn’t react. I didn’t need to.
• “It’s good he’s there,” I said, tone neutral. “You’ll need someone at your side.”
• Sera hesitated. “Do you really mean that?”
• “Of course,” I replied coolly. “I don’t know what caused your reaction, but I’m sorry. I apologize.”
• A pause.
• Then I ended the call.
• My family stood still, shocked.
• Perhaps because I had apologized without resistance.
• Perhaps because I hadn’t played the dramatic, jealous wolf they expected.
• “Now,” I said, lifting my duffel. “Am I allowed to leave?”
• Their silence was answer enough.
• I turned, my heart lighter for the first time in days, and walked out the door—no longer their dutiful omega.
• Let them sit with their doubts.
• Let Sera play her little games.
• I was done begging for scraps of affection from a pack that never truly wanted me.