Chapter 5
The Great Hall of the Alpha house was a symphony of warmth and celebration.
The air, thick with the scents of roasted boar, spiced apple cider, and pine boughs draped over the mantels, buzzed with the cheerful chaos of the Autumn Feast. Fiddles played a lively tune from the corner, and the fire in the grand stone hearth crackled and spat, casting dancing shadows on the pack members dressed in their finest velvets and wools.
At fifteen, I understood my role at these gatherings with a precision that had been drilled into me by Luna Etta.
I was to be a beacon of grace and calm, a future Luna in training.
My duties were small but significant: ensuring the elders were comfortable, mediating squabbles between the pups over the last honey cake, and always, always presenting a serene face to the pack.
It was a performance, and I was becoming a master at it.
My heart, however, was performing a frantic rhythm all its own.
Marshall was here. After a month away negotiating territory rights with the coastal packs, he was finally home.
He stood near the fireplace, looking every inch the powerful Alpha he had become.
The last traces of boyhood had been carved away, leaving a man of breathtaking authority.
I’d watched him since he returned, saw how the other warriors, men twice his age, deferred to him without question.
He didn't just command respect; he inhaled it like air.
He was deep in conversation with Beta Jackson, but as I passed with a tray of fresh bread, his amber eyes met mine over the crowd.
A slow smile touched his lips, a private, warm gesture that was meant only for me.
It was a fleeting moment, gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough.
It was the fuel that would get me through the rest of the night.
That smile promised a future, a time when I wouldn’t just be the girl he was obligated to, but the woman he came home to.
I held that promise close, a secret ember in my chest.
“Annalise, dear.” Luna Etta touched my arm, her expression warm but tinged with the familiar stress of a hostess. “Could you do me a favor? The lanterns on the west veranda keep flickering. I think the wind is getting to them. Could you check and make sure the glass is properly seated?”
“Of course, Luna,” I said, grateful for the task. It felt important, a real contribution.
The west veranda was a wide stone patio that overlooked the valley, beautiful but exposed to the crisp autumn wind.
I slipped out through the heavy oak side door, the festive sounds of the party instantly muted.
The air was cold on my cheeks, smelling of damp earth and coming rain.
Shivering slightly in my simple wool dress, I moved down the line of ornate iron lanterns, checking each one and adjusting the glass casings to better shield the flames from the gusts of wind.
I was on the last lantern when the oak door creaked behind me. I turned, expecting Luna Etta, but instead found Tiffany and two of her followers, Michaela and Sara, slipping onto the veranda.
“Well, look at this,” Tiffany said, her voice laced with mock pity as she pulled her expensive fur-lined cloak tighter around herself. “The future Luna, sent out to do chores like an omega. Don’t you have people for this sort of thing?”
“Luna Etta asked for my help,” I said, keeping my voice even. My hands felt cold and clumsy as I finished securing the last lantern.
“How sweet. The Alpha’s little helper,” Michaela snickered, leaning against the stone balustrade. “While he’s inside talking business with the warriors, you’re out here playing with candles.”
“Marshall likes a woman who knows her place,” Tiffany added, her eyes glittering with malice. “And your place, it seems, is out here in the cold.” She moved back toward the door as if to re-enter the hall. “We’d better get back inside before we miss the toast.”
As she reached the door, she feigned a dramatic stumble, her body thudding against the heavy wood. “Whoops!” she cried, grabbing the iron handle for balance.
Behind her, I heard a sound that sent a chill down my spine far colder than the autumn air. A heavy, metallic click.
It was the sound of the old crossbar latch, a relic from a time when the house needed to be fortified, falling into place on the inside. Tiffany shot me a triumphant, venomous smile before plunging the veranda into semi-darkness, illuminated only by the flickering lanterns I had just fixed.
For a moment, I just stood there, stunned. It had happened so fast, so seamlessly, that it took me a second to process the deliberate cruelty of it. I walked to the door and tried the handle. It was solid, unmoving. Locked.
“Very funny, Tiffany,” I called out, my voice thin against the rising wind. “Let me in.”
There was no response, only the muffled sound of laughter from the other side. Panic began to bubble in my throat, hot and tight. I pounded on the thick oak. “Let me in! The latch is thrown!” My fists began to ache from the force, but the only reply was the indifferent howling of the wind.
After a few minutes of fruitless pounding, humiliation began to replace my panic. I wouldn't stand here and beat on the door like a lost pup. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. I wrapped my arms around myself against the biting cold and moved to the tall windows lining the veranda.
Surely someone would notice I was gone. Luna Etta had sent me out here; she would remember soon and come looking for me. Or Marshall. Maybe he would look around, wonder where I was, and the warmth of his earlier smile would prompt him to find me. Hope was a stubborn, foolish thing.
I peered through the tall glass panels, a ghost looking in on a life I was supposed to be part of.
The party swirled on, a kaleidoscope of color and laughter.
I saw Luna Etta directing servers, her face a mask of concentration.
I saw Jackson laughing with one of the warriors.
I saw children sneaking extra honey cakes. And then I saw Marshall.
He hadn’t moved from his spot by the fire.
Scarlett was with him now, her red dress a slash of vibrant color against the stone.
Her hand was on his arm, her head tilted close to his as she whispered something in his ear.
Marshall threw his head back and laughed, a full-throated, genuine sound of pure amusement. He looked happy. He looked content.
He hadn’t even noticed I was gone.
The ember of hope in my chest flickered and died, leaving behind nothing but cold, bitter ash. My absence, the absence of his future mate, hadn’t registered at all. It was a more profound rejection than any shouted insult. It was the rejection of pure indifference.
A deep, internal chill settled into my bones, one that had nothing to do with the wind. I turned away from the window and made my way down the stone steps. There had to be another way in. The kitchen entrance was around the back, always unlocked during feasts for the staff to come and go.
My thin shoes slipped on the damp grass as I circled the sprawling house, the sounds of the party fading and then growing again as I passed different windows.
I finally reached the back of the house, a warren of service entrances.
My heart sank. The main kitchen door, a sturdy double-wide oak, was locked.
The handle wouldn't budge. I tried the staff entrance next to it.
Also locked. The cellar door, a heavy iron-banded thing, was bolted fast.
They hadn't just locked me out. They had made sure I couldn't get back in at all. The thoroughness of the cruelty was breathtaking. Tiffany hadn't just thrown a latch; she had orchestrated this.
Defeated, cold, and utterly alone, I had only one option left. The Alpha suite, where my room was located, had a private staircase accessible from a small, discreet door near the family gardens. It was my only sanctuary.
The private door, thankfully, was unlocked. I slipped inside and climbed the winding stairs, the festive music from the Great Hall becoming a distant, muffled mockery. The Alpha suite was quiet and dark. My room felt like a haven, but also a cage.
My stomach rumbled, a painful reminder that I hadn't eaten a thing. I bypassed my bedroom and went to the small, private kitchen that served the Alpha family’s quarters.
On a tray on the counter sat the plate of food Luna Etta had insisted I set aside for myself earlier, knowing I might be too busy to eat with everyone else.
Cold boar, a spoonful of congealed gravy, and a roll that was now hard around the edges.
I didn't bother to heat it. I sat on a low stool in the silent, empty kitchen and ate my lonely meal.
My throat was tight with unshed tears, but I refused to cry.
Crying felt like a surrender, and I would not surrender.
Tomorrow, I will have to face them all. I would have to smile and pretend nothing happened, because that was my duty. That was my role.
This, I realized, was my reality. Not the smiling future Luna in the Great Hall, but the forgotten girl, locked out and eating scraps in the cold silence of her room.
I would endure. I would survive. And one day, I prayed to the Goddess I wasn't sure was listening, one day, he would finally see me. But as I sat there, utterly alone in the heart of my own home, that day felt a lifetime away.