Lena learned the sound of her own name by the way it was never said.
She stood in the dark with her back against the wall, counting her breaths so she wouldn't cry too loudly. One. Two. Three. The house hummed around her—music, voices, the soft scrape of chairs being moved across the floor.
The celebration had begun without her.
She wondered, distantly, if Elira was smiling. If her mother stood close at her side, fingers resting possessively at her shoulder as though to remind everyone who belonged where.
The lock on the door was cold against Lena's palm.
She didn't know how long she stood there before the voices changed.
Not louder. Not quieter.
Different.
The cadence shifted—respect tightening the air, conversations thinning as attention turned toward one place. Toward one person.
The Alpha was speaking again.
Lena pressed closer to the door without meaning to, her ear resting against the wood. The sounds were muffled, but his voice carried differently than the others—steady, controlled, impossible to ignore.
"I have a question," he said.
The room went still.
Lena's heart skipped.
"Earlier," the Alpha continued, "I encountered someone in this house I was not introduced to."
A pause.
"I do not enjoy surprises."
A nervous laugh followed. One of the elders cleared his throat.
"There must be some mistake," her mother said quickly, her voice bright in a way it never was with Lena. "Perhaps a servant—"
"No," the Alpha said.
The single word cut clean through the air.
Lena's breath caught.
"I know the difference," he continued calmly, "between a servant and family."
Silence stretched.
Lena slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor again, her heart pounding so hard she thought they might hear it through the door.
The Alpha spoke again, slower now.
"There was a girl."
Her mother's voice came next, sharp and controlled. "Sir, this is not—"
"What is her name?" the Alpha asked.
The words landed like a blow.
Lena squeezed her eyes shut.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then—
"…Lena," her mother said.
The sound of it—her name, spoken aloud, spoken reluctantly—hit Lena harder than she was prepared for. It felt unfamiliar in that space, like a word pulled from somewhere it didn't belong.
"She is no one of importance," her mother added quickly. "A ward. Taken in years ago. We did not think it necessary to—"
"Lena," the Alpha repeated.
Her name sounded different in his mouth.
Not dismissive.
Not ashamed.
Intentional.
"Bring her to me."
Lena's breath stuttered.
Her mother's response was immediate. "She is not presentable."
Another pause.
"Then that," the Alpha said evenly, "is your failure. Not hers."
The words echoed faintly through the corridor, seeping through the door and settling deep in Lena's chest.
Footsteps approached.
Her wolf stirred—uneasy, alert, frightened of hope.
The lock slid back.
The door opened.
Light spilled in once more, softer this time, flickering with torchlight and shadow. Her mother stood there, her expression tight, furious beneath a brittle calm.
"Stand up," she whispered harshly. "Do not embarrass me."
Lena rose on shaking legs.
She followed her into the hall.
Every eye turned.
The pack stared openly now—confusion, curiosity, whispers rippling through the crowd like wind through tall grass. Lena felt suddenly exposed, painfully aware of her worn dress, her bare hands, the way she didn't know where to stand.
The Alpha watched her approach.
Not coldly.
Not kindly.
Carefully.
When she stopped a few paces away, he spoke her name again.
"Lena."
She lifted her eyes.
Their gazes met.
And this time, she didn't look away.
Something passed between them—recognition, perhaps, or the quiet acknowledgment of something long denied. The Alpha straightened slightly, as though confirming something to himself.
"You were hidden," he said—not as a question.
Her mother bristled. "Sir—"
"You will be silent," he said, without raising his voice.
The hall went utterly still.
The Alpha turned back to Lena. "How long?"
The question was simple.
The answer was not.
Lena swallowed. Her voice came out rough, unused. "As long as I can remember."
A murmur swept the room.
The Alpha's jaw tightened.
"I see," he said quietly.
And for the first time since she had been locked away, Lena felt something shift—not in the house, not in the pack, but inside herself.
Because whatever happened next—
She would not be forgotten again.