My feet were cold against the ground, but that didn't matter. I heard my name; it sounded like a lullaby, something I hadn't heard since childhood.
Then I set my eyes on him—my father. He stood just beyond the fog, dressed in his graceful white coat. The same eyes I inherited looked straight at me, fierce and calm, as if they knew me.
"Dada?" My voice cracked. I hadn't said that word in years.
He looked at me and smiled—the kind of smile a father gives when he sees not just his daughter, but every lost year stitched into her face. "My little Riya."
I ran to him and wrapped my arms around him. His sweet scent clung to my body, the aroma of fresh lemons and flowers filled my lungs, making my chest ache for him more.
"I thought I lost you," I said, clinging to the fold of his coat. "They… they said you were gone. They said…" Tears gushed down my cheeks.
He pressed his hands to the back of my head and held me still, placing soft kisses on my forehead.
"They say a lot of things, but I've never left you. I've always watched over you, and I will continue to. You are never alone, Riya."
I pulled away and stared into his eyes. "Then take me with you, please, Dada. I can't stay here. I don't… I don't want this fate."
His eyes widened. "No, child, you can't come with me yet."
"You don't understand, Dada. Everything hurts." I looked away, blinking fast.
"Mother is remarried and I'm unfortunately mated to my stepbrothers. The pack might tear itself apart because of me. Yes, I still have to work to pay the debt. The bonds, the marks, the prophecy... I didn't ask for any of this!" My voice rose until I broke down, overwhelmed with tears.
He gripped my shoulders. "You are stronger than you think."
"No, I'm not. I'm breaking, Dada. I'm on the edge of losing myself. I don't want to be strong if this is what strength feels like."
His image began to flicker, dissolving into the fog. I grabbed his hand tightly. "Don't leave me again! Please, Dada!" But he was already fading.
"All will be well," he said one last time, and then… nothing.
I fell into darkness, screaming and crying, begging to see my father again.
*****
I woke up choking on my breath. My body was still, and I was sweating profusely. I lay beneath the silk-soft sheets, the fresh lavender scent filling the air. For a moment, I forgot where I was and stared into the room, my heart pounding in my chest as I managed to sit up.
I scanned the space, painted in soft baby pink—casual and feminine. The sheets matched, adorned with lilac pillows, while a crystal chandelier hung above my head. I turned to the vanity, where neatly arranged hairpins, bracelets, and perfume lay. Sketches of ancient female wolves hung on the wall. My mom really did a good job with the interior; everything looked beautiful—a room fit for a future Luna, something dreamy.
I pushed off the duvet and walked barefoot across the floor to a full-length mirror beside the dressing table. I looked... bad. My hair was scattered, dark circles surrounded my eyelids, and my skin was pale. Worse, I looked like a ghost pretending never to have died. This isn't me.
I dropped the nightgown from my body and walked into the bathroom, slipping into the bathtub. I scrubbed every inch of myself with so much rage, wishing I could wash away my fate. It felt like a curse.
Sinking beneath the surface, the silence swallowed me. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine my father's face, but all I could remember were his words: "You are stronger than you think."
"Oh, lies," I whispered as I got out of the tub.
My father died in debt, not because he was careless, but because he chose the pack over politics. Now I carried his legacy like a collar I couldn't unfasten.
*****
By the time I dressed and made it to the dining room, the mansion had come alive. The room was overwhelming: high vaulted ceilings, golden chandeliers, and a breakfast feast laid out before me.
Avocado toast, rainbow fruits, grilled meats, sparkling wines... It was enough to feed a hundred, though only five of us sat at the gold-draped table. It was a stark display of wealth compared to the simple breakfasts my parents and I used to have back at our mansion.
We weren't the wealthiest, My father, the Alpha of Night Stalker Valley, never needed chandeliers to command respect.
My mother sat at the head of the table, adjacent to Darius, surrounded by wolves who were now her family. Jayden lounged on one side, casually resting his elbow behind him as if he owned the table itself. Aiden sat opposite him, jaw clenched, silently chewing. And Darius? He didn't even flinch. I wasn't family to him, I was prophecy.
I stood at the entrance, unsure if I wanted to join their meal. Jayden was the first to notice me, followed closely by his brother, though Aiden's gaze was quick and unreadable.
My mother smiled. "Come, Riya, we were just about to dig in."
I walked toward the table slowly and elegantly, like a model in a pageant. Pulling out a chair, I could feel their eyes on me, even if they weren't saying anything. My heart raced.
As I sat down, no one spoke. Forks scraped against plates, and they chewed noisily.
"You slept?" Jayden asked cautiously.
I looked down at my untouched plate. "I dreamed," I said quietly.
"That's not the same!" he replied.
I glanced at him, almost believing he cared.
Aiden's voice was low. "Bad?"
I remained still, noticing he had forced the word out, almost choking on his salad.
"What are dreams these days?" I asked.
No one answered. I sipped a little from the wine in front of me, but I tasted nothing. My father's words kept replaying in my mind, and for a moment, I felt like I needed lots of air—lots of air to breathe.
I dropped my fork. Aiden's eyes twinkled at the sound, while Jayden looked at me with a questioning expression.
"I need air," I whispered, standing up and walking away from them.
"You haven't even touched your meal," I heard Darius call behind me, but I didn't respond or turn back. I simply put one foot in front of the other and headed to my room.
I got to my room and picked up my bag, phone, and a few of my things. I needed to do something with my life—something that would distract me from all this misfortune and mystery.
As I walked slowly back to the dining room, I noticed they were still chewing at the table. "Are they really going to finish food meant for over a hundred people?" I thought to myself. But that didn't matter; it was none of my business.
"Mom, Dad, I'll be going to work now," I announced.
"Work?" Darius asked, surprised. "You just got back yesterday. Wouldn't you like to at least dine with your brothers and me and rest a little?"
"Well, I know you all have it made, but my father owes a lot of people, and someone has to pay," I replied.
"If not for anything else, I would have loved to help, but you know... the economy," Darius said.
"No, it's fine. I'll manage," I said, turning to leave.
"Let the drivers drop you!" my mother yelled behind me.
"Sure, Mother," I replied.
He actually had a lot of money, he was incredibly wealthy. He couldn't even lend a hand to help pay off the debts of his wife's late husband. How cruel and wicked. I continued to think to myself as I got into my car and drove away.
As I drove out of the mansion gates, I didn't look back. But deep in my chest, both marks pulsed like embers. One burned hot. The other felt cold, almost hollow. Like something or someone was missing.