Can't Suddenly Stand Them.

A knock snap startle me, making me sit up in a quick move.

My body jerks upright before my mind even catches up, breath shallow as I look around the room.

It's all lightened up by the sun's light, golden beams slipping past the curtains and washing everything in a calm, warm hue, casting patterns across the floor and walls.

I blink, trying to piece together when I must have fallen asleep. The last thing I remember was lying there, bracing myself, lost in thought about how I will make my love understand that she doesn't need to worry, not with me here.

That she is safe, that I'll protect her no matter what, that she doesn't have to bear the weight of fear anymore.

I fidget my eyes, rubbing away the last traces of sleep as I drag myself off the bed.

My muscles are slow to respond, heavy with the stubborn remnants of rest I didn't plan to take.

I stretch my arms briefly, a small yawn escaping my lips before I force myself to straighten up.

I adjust my clothes with sluggish fingers, smoothing out the creases and folding the collar neatly before moving to the door and pulling it open.

"Alpha Theo, Alpha sends me to inform you that you have visitors," a girl in a servant's uniform says the moment the door creaks open.

Her eyes are laced to the floor, head bowed low in the customary sign of respect, her voice timid but clear.

Visitors?! My visitors?! Since when do I get visitors without even being informed?! And who would the visitors be?

I'm not that social.

I can't think of anyone who would visit me out of the blue, especially without letting me know in advance.

"Okay," I say, my voice low and flat, clipped by irritation and curiosity. I close the door gently but firmly, leaning against it for a breath before pushing away.

I walk to the bathroom without any sense of urgency. If someone had really intended to visit me, I would've known about it days ago.

Even a week ago.

And I'm sure my brother wasn't aware either. If he was, he would have told me. He always tells me everything.

He's the closest person I've ever known. Despite the endless arguments and our usual sibling fights, we always come back together within hours.

It's just how we are. He's always had my back. But still, I haven't told him about Mira.

Not because I don't trust him, but because when it comes to his role, to his duties as the pack leader, he doesn't joke around.

He draws lines.

And I already know what he'd say the moment I asked for his support. I can hear the words clearly in my head, in his deep and measured voice: "Little brother, you know what we're needed of as pack leaders. Me and you aren't different. We're both the rulers of this pack, and all other packs. We're needed to do what is best for it..."

And those words... they would only anger me. Because I can't even imagine him telling me I can't have the woman I love.

My brother sometimes can't help but act like an old legend from some ancient tale, even though he's not anywhere near thirty.

Oh right, just three years until he hits that number.

We're not so far apart. He's only older than me by two years. But in our values, our choices, we're worlds apart. His focus is always duty first. Mine... mine has shifted. Mira has shifted it. It used to be duties too.

But we do look alike. That part we can't deny. The resemblance is so strong that anyone who saw our faces might mistake us for twins.

Our features mirror each other to a point that's almost unsettling. Same jawline, same eyes, same hair. You'd think fate molded us as a set and just gave us different hearts.

After a while, I finish freshening up.

I dress in fresh clothes. I glance at myself in the mirror, buttoning my shirt. I brush through my hair, the strands falling softly down my neck.

Once I'm finished, I walk out of my room and down the hallway toward the boardroom.

That's where every visitor is welcomed. My steps are steady, and though I'm trying to keep calm, my mind is spinning with questions.

As I move through the hallway, I can't help but hope to see Mira, even just the sight of her to start my day perfectly.

A glance.

A smile.

Something to ease this unfamiliar tension.

But I don't see her.

I push the thought aside, burying it with the others, and keep moving forward. The hall stretches long before me, the morning light streaking through the high windows along the corridor.

The silence around me is thick, unnerving. When I reach the boardroom door, I pause. Then I push it open gradually, unsure what to expect.

And what my eyes meet shocks me.

Okay, she said visitors, but I didn't know they were this many. I thought it would be just three or four people at most. Not... this.

But no, there's a full assembly: officials from the Clawfang pack, their crests stitched proudly onto their chests.

Our own pack elders, every one of them seated and facing the front with unreadable expressions.

And there's my brother and his Luna beside him, composed.

My thoughts falter as my gaze lands on a young lady,

Elegant. Poised. Every movement she makes is effortless, refined.

Her presence alone seems to pull the breath from my lungs. Is she an angel or something?

There's a glow to her, a calm confidence wrapped in delicate grace.

"Alpha Theo." The greeting comes almost in a unison chorus, like they had rehearsed it in advance.

Voices rise and fall in practiced timing, some heads bowing in respect, others remaining upright, steady and unreadable.

Not my brother's. Not his Luna's. They remain still. My eyes land on Morgana. Suddenly the thought of Mira burnt rushes back to me.

Heat raises up my thought as something close to anger follows. But Mira's pleading voice kicks in, pleading for me to let go.

It suits the heat almost instantly.

I have no idea why I can't seem to like this Luna. Even when I've never had another solid reason to dislike her.

The feeling started long before she ever hurt Mira.

I just… never liked her. Even her silence feels like judgment.

I walk inside without a nod or a word.

My movements are calm, steady, but there's a weight to every step I take as I cross the room and lower myself into the seat.

I sit with deliberate ease, leaning slightly back, keeping my hands on the armrests, fingers loosely curled, my eyes drifting slowly over each face in the room.

Every part of me is alert. Observing. Reading them. Wondering what this entire setup means and why I'm here.

Very curious now. Curious to know what exactly is going on here… and more importantly, how any of it is supposed to concern me especially.

Because from where I sit, I see nothing urgent. Nothing personal. But everything feels calculated.

For a few seconds, no one says anything. Then one of the elders finally speaks, his voice picking up from where he must have been interrupted when I entered.

He sounds like he's repeating something important, like a statement meant to be stamped into memory.

His voice is firm, deep, filled with certainty and age-worn pride. "...Indeed, the heir of our pack is going to be brilliant. An unshakable pillar," he says with the kind of tone that demands agreement, not discussion.

The others around him laugh and chuckle, a ripple of amusement and approval passing among them.

Their heads nod, lips stretch into content smiles, all of them sharing in the mutual satisfaction of a well-placed compliment.

Oh, so it's about my nephew? About Mogarna's pregnancy? Okay then.

But just as quickly as it came, the laughter dies. The mood shifts. The air tightens, like a sudden pressure change.

Silence presses in. The room goes still. Like someone flipped a switch.

Then Morgan's father stands. Slowly. Deliberately. His frame is straight, his stance practiced and full of self-importance.

He holds himself like someone who expects to be listened to, like someone who's used to having rooms quiet for him.

His eyes land directly on me. There's no warmth in them.

"Son."

Ugh. Son? The word alone grates on my nerves.

It lands like a slap, unwanted and far too familiar. I hate the way it sounds coming from him. The mock affection. I feel it with each of my nerves.

The false closeness.

Yeah. I officially disliked the whole family, every one of them.

There's something about them that makes my blood curdle.

He's always acted like he's responsible for us since our parents died, like we're helpless toddlers.

I don't know why, but suddenly I just can't stand them. It never felt this way before.