Silent Scars

The dining hall was thrown into an oppressive silence after the announcement.

It wasn't just a pause in conversation but the kind of silence that sucked the air out of the room, pressing down on the gathered pack members.

Meanwhile, Madam Tera and Sir Thomas exchanged knowing glances. They had no choice but to bow their heads respectfully.

"Thank you for your generosity, Alpha," Madam Tera murmured, though the words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She thought, Is this the legendary 'kill me and mourn my death' tactic?

But who was she to complain?

She was a lowly servant, and if she dared to challenge an Alpha's decision, she might not live long enough to regret it.

Alpha Richard's fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished wood of the dining table, his expression unreadable. The weight of the unspoken tension settled over the room like a thick fog.

His gaze was sharp as he directed a warning look at Williams... not because he disagreed with his son's reasoning, but because he had voiced such dangerous thoughts aloud.

Even if the Omegas hadn't considered rebellion before, they certainly were now.

Luna Kim's expression remained composed, but a storm brewed inside her. She understood the weight of her son's words more than anyone else.

If the Omegas rebelled, the consequences would be catastrophic.

She inhaled deeply, keeping her voice neutral, but there was an unstable current beneath it. "Richard, perhaps this discussion can wait. This is not the right place."

Her husband's eyes flickered toward her before he turned back to Williams.

"You should learn to control your words," he said, voice calm but firm. "A leader doesn't stir unnecessary chaos, especially not in his own home."

Williams held his father's gaze for a long moment, then exhaled. "I apologize," he said, his tone not entirely remorseful. "But I stand by my words. If we continue turning a blind eye to unnecessary cruelty, it will come back to haunt us."

Amelia scoffed. "Oh, spare me your righteousness, Williams. You act like you're some great hero."

Williams turned his head lazily toward her. "No, Amelia, I just happen to have common sense. Maybe try using it sometime."

Her hands clenched into fists. "Why are you always against me?!" she bellowed, her moss-green eyes flashing with frustration. "Father never treated you this way. He never humiliated you in front of the entire pack!"

Williams smirked. "Maybe that's because I never gave him a reason to."

Amelia's face turned red with anger, but before she could respond, Alpha Richard raised a hand.

"Enough."

The weight of his command settled over the room, silencing any further bickering. He took a long breath before speaking again.

"This discussion is over." His tone was final, brooking no argument. "But I will say this, after the coming-of-age ceremony, I will be stepping down."

Again, the hall fell into stunned silence. The heavy tension thickened.

"Williams will take over as Alpha." He continued expressionlessly.

Gasps rippled through the room.

The younger wolves exchanged glances, excitement flickering in their eyes. Many of them had anticipated this change in leadership, but none had expected it to be announced so suddenly.

Williams blinked, his steel-grey eyes widening slightly in shock. "You're serious?"

Alpha Richard's ash-grey eyes darkened as he gave a firm nod. "You're almost twenty, long past the age. It's time you assume your position." His voice carried a subtle note of resolve, his dark, thick brows furrowing as he studied his son.

A name was uttered, barely above a whisper.

"Alpha Reindel took the mantle at twelve."

A shiver passed through the hall at the mere mention of the infamous Devil Alpha.

The clatter of cutlery ceased entirely, hands frozen mid-motion. Some pack members stiffened in their seats, their knuckles white as they gripped their utensils. Others exchanged wary glances, unease flickering in their eyes.

The elders, usually composed, shifted uncomfortably, their expressions tightening with memories they dared not voice.

Even the younger wolves, those who had only heard rumors of the said name, felt the weight of the legend pressing down on them.

It was as if merely uttering his title had invited a shadow into the room, chilling the air with its unseen presence.

Even Amelia paled slightly, her usual poise momentarily faltering as her fingers tensed around her wine glass. The weight of the name hung over them like an ominous cloud, suffocating and inescapable.

Alpha Richard continued, his tone unwavering. "He took the mantle before he even had a wolf. Yet, under the guidance of his mother and the elders, he thrived. Now, he is one of the most fearsome Alphas."

Williams's jaw tightened at the comparison, his pride stinging. "Understood."

Alpha Richard gave a final nod. "Very well, then. This discussion is over."

He wiped his mouth with the neatly folded napkin, setting it down beside his barely touched plate.

His sharp gaze raked over the dining hall, lingering just long enough to reassert his dominance. The murmurs had died down, but the weight of his authority pressed heavily on the room.

Then, he turned to his Luna, his expression softening ever so slightly as he gave her a warm nod, a silent exchange that spoke of understanding.

Without missing a beat, his gaze snapped to his Beta. "I need all the pending paperwork in my study."

His voice carried an edge of finality, one that allowed no room for hesitation.

He stood, pushing his chair back with a deliberate motion. But just before leaving, he cast a warning glance; cold and sharp, at his son, Williams.

A silent message. A final reminder.

Then, without another word, Alpha Richard strode out of the dining hall, his presence lingering even after he was gone.

The hall remained thick with unspoken words, but no one dared challenge the decision.

And just like that, a new era was set in motion.

Pack life carried on without Matilda.

Business dealers departed for trade, warriors resumed their training, and others immersed themselves in their professions. Nothing had changed. The world moved forward, indifferent to her suffering.

But for Matilda, time had come to a standstill.

The following days were torment. It felt as if she had been dragged back into the abyss of pain, with no way out.

She still couldn't sit. She spent her days lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, trapped in the quiet agony of her own existence.

Pain had long become a companion, unwelcome yet familiar. She no longer fought it because what was the point?

The world didn't pause for broken things.

And Matilda... she was just that. A fragile thing left to shatter in silence.

Sylvia and the others often found her in the same position when they returned from their afternoon shifts.

"Matilda…?" Sylvia called softly one evening.

No response.

She sat beside her, brushing a stray strand of hair from Matilda's face.

"You haven't spoken a word since that day," she whispered, her voice thick with worry.

Matilda's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. Her lips barely moved, only parting for an inaudible breath.

The room fell into silence again.

Lynda shifted uncomfortably. "This isn't normal," she murmured to Sylvia. "She hasn't even cried."

Sylvia nodded, chewing her bottom lip. "I know. And that's what scares me the most."

Madam Tera was even more afraid.

Over time, she had come to understand Matilda better than most. She had seen her laugh, chatter with her roommates, and even hum while working.

And now? Nothing.

She feared the girl would close off entirely.

Standing in the doorway, Madam Tera let out a quiet sigh. "Physical wounds heal," she muttered under her breath. "But the ones we can't see… those never truly fade."

She just hoped...prayed that Matilda wouldn't be lost to them forever.