Mrs. Eleanor Khian's voice was calm, almost gentle, but the words she spoke landed like thunder inside me. "The voices you heard were your inner voices," she said. "And I guess you already know about wolves, because you did not flinch when I mentioned the term Beta."
I swallowed slowly, my throat suddenly dry as desert sand. "Yeah," I managed to reply, my voice low but steady. "I am aware of their existence. My foster father was a Beta too." I paused, then glared straight at her, my eyes narrowing. "So you mean I have a wolf voice in me? And no matter where I go, you would be able to find me?"
The realization hit harder than any slap I'd ever received from Mr. Ragnar. Anger and hurt surged up, coiling in my chest like a living thing. "That means you never really wanted to find me," I continued, bitterness bubbling in my throat. "You can't lie or make mistakes. You knew where I was all along, but you never tried to come for me."
Silence fell between us, heavy and suffocating. Unwelcome memories flooded my mind taunts and whispers that had followed me all my life, branding me the girl with no scent, the one everyone pitied. I remembered the cruel laughter: "She's nothing, just the runt without a wolf!" Even when I turned eighteen, the few men who approached me later admitted they had mistaken my sister's scent for mine. They wanted Jane, not me; a mate with a title, someone who mattered. They rejected me without shame, and Jane would smirk, saying she deserved better than the "trash" that followed me. Each memory stabbed at me, felt like tiny knives of embarrassment and sorrow. How small I had felt. How empty.
I never heard a voice back then. Not once. All I had were strange dreams of myself running endlessly through a dark forest – powerful, fast, and completely alone. I'd always brushed them off as meaningless fantasies. But now… I have a wolf in me. Wow. The thought echoed in my mind, trembling with disbelief.
Then, a voice answered , clear and distinct. Let me introduce myself. I am Ryan, your male wolf. Sorry for the late introduction. I was angry that I had to share you with Arkin.
This was insane. It was impossible. Yet it felt real in a way nothing else ever had. For a brief moment, a spark of joy bloomed inside me. It was warm and bright, almost intoxicating. But reality was a cruel anchor, dragging me back down just as fast as it lifted me. I shook my head as if to clear it. "We tried to find you, but…" Mrs. Khian started.
"Oh, you tried?" I cut in sharply, stepping closer. "But what? What stopped you then? Why are you here now? Why now, after everything you did?" My voice shook, equal parts anger and pain.
Her eyes softened, and for the first time I saw something like regret crack through her regal composure. "I made a huge mistake," she admitted quietly. "I was young then. Selfish. I only cared about the purity of the pack line. We searched for you later, but we were told you were dead. It wasn't until recently that I found out the records were falsified." She took a slow, shaky breath. "I am dying," she continued. "And I feel that if I do not find you and reunite you with your father, I will never be at peace. I have achieved much in my life, but it seems your mother's curse is finally catching up to me."
My heart skipped violently. "My father?" I managed, my voice cracking. "You mean my real father is alive? My birth father? And he does not know I am alive?" Questions tumbled out of me in a rush. Twenty-one years I had believed my parents died in an accident. I had grown up alone before being adopted into the Ragnar house. Everything I knew was suddenly cracking apart like dry glass.
"Yes," she said firmly. "If you forgive me, I will take you to him. And yes, I am dying because of the Sentinel's curse. It is a slow rot of the soul." Her voice trembled on the last words. "Please. I beg you. Forgive me. I know sorry is not enough for what you went through, but please forgive me."
I felt torn in two. Part of me leapt wildly at the thought of meeting my father – the man whose blood ran through my veins, the man who had believed I was dead all this time. But that part of me was fighting with another part, and each one had a voice of its own. Are you that easy? Arkin's voice echoed in my mind, cold and logical. Are you really going to accept them after what they did to you?
Before I could answer, Ryan's voice rumbled in my head, low and protective. Ignore her. She is just jealous because I am stronger.
I clenched my fists. Two voices, two pulls, and me stuck in the middle of a war I never asked for. I had lost count of the times I had been alone, abandoned, and hurt. I wanted this, meeting my father. But could I trust any of this? Especially after twenty years of being left behind?
I took a deep breath and stood up. "Meeting my father is one thing," I said slowly. "Forgiving you is another." My legs shook but I held myself upright. "You were never there when I needed a family. You abandoned me. And now, just because you are dying, you come for me?" I shook my head, fury and hurt fueling each word. "I need time. This could be a mistake. Or a lie. I need time to process this."
I turned toward the door. The room was spinning with the weight of all I'd just learned. I needed space, air, to think. I needed to run like I always had in those dreams – powerful and free.
Mrs. Khian's hand shot out and grabbed mine. I yanked back reflexively. "You were kicked out of your home," she said softly. "Where are you going to stay, Hannah? You have nothing."
Shame washed over me, hot and suffocating. Of course, she knew everything. She knew I had no place to go. Our eyes met and I forced myself to hold her gaze. Anger flared again, stronger than the shame. "Oh, it seems you've been tailing me for a long time," I said bitterly. "You knew I was kicked out. But don't worry. I'll pay you back the bail money. You won't lose a single cent."
I stepped back and made for the door. "Thank you for the story," I continued, my voice breaking despite myself, "but it doesn't matter where I sleep. I have been alone all my life. You never came then. And now, after twenty years, you show up and expect me to care?" The last words felt like poison on my tongue. "I do not care if you die or not."
I hissed softly and turned away, my heart pounding in my ears. Both of you, I commanded inside my head, my chest tight. Keep quiet until I say you should speak.
I walked out of the room and headed toward the exit of the building, emotions swirling like a storm inside me. The door creaked as I opened it, and a rush of cold evening air hit my face. For a moment, I simply stood in the doorway, breathing deeply, letting the chill steady my trembling body. The hallway was empty and silent behind me; even the voices in my head had gone quiet, obeying my command.
Outside, the night was still and dark. I was startled to realize I was shaking as I stepped onto the sidewalk. My hands balled into fists at my sides. Every part of me felt raw, exposed, hurt and angry and confused all at once. I had no family, no home. But I knew one thing for sure: I needed a moment just to be by myself.
As I began walking down the quiet street, I wrapped my arms around myself, as if shielding my heart. The cool wind teased loose strands of my hair. For the first time in so long, I gave myself permission to let something go. The tears fell before I even noticed, and I let them come, hot and cleansing, each one a little release of the storm inside me.
Under a flickering streetlamp, I finally stopped and pressed my back against a brick wall. I closed my eyes. The voices in my head stayed silent, as if waiting. I let the silence stretch, letting myself just feel the ache of abandonment, the sting of hope suddenly lost, the bizarre relief of knowing there might have been more to my life than I thought.
I don't know where I'll sleep tonight. I don't know what I'll do. All I know is that for now, I need time – time to sort through the chaos in my mind, time to decide what I believe and what I'm willing to do.
Above me, the sky was empty and vast. And I was alone.