Even now, years later, that venom lingered. Their resentment clung to every glance, every clipped word, every silence that screamed louder than any accusation.
At the banquet, Nyra shone brighter than the crystal chandeliers that crowned the grand hall. She noticed Alpha Alaric and me the moment we entered, her golden gown glittering like spun sunlight, her beauty magnified by the adoration of those gathered. She moved toward us with practiced grace, her smile dazzling enough to make the crowd sigh in admiration.
“Kaia, Alpha Alaric, you’re finally here! I thought you weren’t going to come.”
Her voice was sugar-sweet, but her wolf aura betrayed her, subtle, predatory, tinged with challenge. Then, as if remembering something, she pressed a manicured hand to her lips, her eyes widening with mock innocence. “Oh, I’m sorry, sis. I forgot, you’re deaf. I should have used sign language, but… I never learned. You won’t blame me for that, will you?”
The words dripped with syrup, but beneath the surface gleamed poison. Her smile was wide and angelic, yet her eyes glimmered with malice.
Behind her, Maera Blackthorn, my mother, crossed her arms, her lip curling into a cruel sneer.