Leave that ruthless Alpha

The wheelchair wheels clicked against the polished floor. I gripped the arms tightly, letting the motion carry me forward, while the hospital scent faded behind us. Anson pushed me with calm precision. I could feel his eyes on me, steady and warm, but I kept my face blank. There was no reason to let him see anything yet.

“Almost there,” he murmured, voice low. I nodded, pretending I couldn’t hear the tension threading through his tone.

I didn’t want to betray how hollow I felt inside. We left the hospital’s sterile air behind, stepping into the late afternoon sun. The breeze brushed my face, teasing my hair. I tried to savor the simple normalcy, but my heart was too heavy.

The Pack “welfare house” loomed ahead. It was smaller than the Pack House, simple and functional, with a soft garden leading to the entrance. I spotted movement inside. A little girl came running out, her dark curls bouncing. Her face—Anson’s face. My stomach twisted.

“Daddy!” she yelled, sprinting toward him. Anson bent, arms open. She launched herself into him. The sight stabbed through me. He held her, lifting her up, laughing with a lightness I hadn’t seen in months. I stayed in the doorway, silent. The wheelchair kept me rooted, or maybe it was the shock.

The girl’s eyes caught mine. They narrowed immediately. “You! You’re the bad woman! You can’t be Luna!”

Her voice was sharp, accusing. Her tiny hands curled into fists, trembling with fury. My chest constricted. I forced a smile, calm and gentle.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” I said softly. She didn’t reply, just glared, a tiny storm. Anson whispered something to her, his hands still cradling her.

She huffed but didn’t run away. I knew. She was his daughter. My pulse jumped. I kept my expression neutral, though inside a storm of emotions churned.

We entered. Anson guided me carefully through the hallways. My legs ached from their lack of use, but I didn’t complain. I was learning to be silent in my pain, to hide the jagged edges. Every step of the wheels echoed my new place in this world: present, yet invisible.

Judy followed us. She ran ahead, pulling Anson by the hand, chattering about something I didn’t catch. She glanced at me occasionally, eyes sharp, measuring, distrustful. I returned her gaze with softness. I had to. She didn’t need to know I recognized her as his child. I had to let the truth lie quiet for now.

Anson opened the door to the Pack House. Inside, warmth and light greeted us. Diana was there. Of course. Always there. She stood at the center of the room, hands folded, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. My chest tightened. Every breath felt measured. I had to be careful not to give away my thoughts.

“Wendy,” Anson said, voice smooth, reassuring. “This is why I asked you to stay back. It’s easier for you to rest, and Diana will help with the Luna preparations.”

I caught the edge of malice in her smile. My stomach sank, heavy with what was coming. I nodded. My lips curved politely. Inside, I felt the sharp sting of betrayal anew.

I wheeled forward, feeling the powerlessness of my body. Diana’s eyes were on me, calculating. “It must be hard,” she said, tilting her head.

“To be sidelined like this. No fighting, no pack duties… just… watching.” Her voice was smooth venom. I met her gaze evenly.

“It’s not the end,” I said, voice steady. “Just a pause.”

She laughed, soft and cruel. “A pause? Or a permanent stop? Without your strength, Anson will see what really matters. Maybe now you can finally be… irrelevant.”

She moved closer, letting her hand brush mine lightly on the arm of the wheelchair. My skin crawled. Her touch was a taunt. I ignored it.

Anson crouched beside Judy, washing her hands at the sink. Their laughter filled the kitchen. The sound cut through me, making me feel like an intruder in a world that no longer needed me. I sat there, wheels unmoving, watching a family I was never meant to join. My hands rested on my lap. I could have turned and left. But I didn’t. Not yet.

Diana’s eyes never left mine. She tilted her head, feigning sweetness.

“You see them, don’t you? All happy, all intact. And you… well, you’re broken. Helpless. A shadow of who you once were.”

I swallowed, tasting bitterness. The urge to snap back boiled in my chest. But I stayed silent, letting the wheels of my mind turn. I needed patience, control. I needed observation.

I watched Judy laugh, reaching for Diana’s hand. Anson leaned over, lifting Judy slightly to nuzzle her. The gesture, tender, casual, filled me with an ache I didn’t allow myself to name. I looked away, out the window, tracing the branches of the old oak tree in the yard. Leaves rustled in the wind. Freedom existed outside. Not here.

Finally, Diana’s voice cut through the quiet.

“You’ll get used to this, Wendy. To being on the sidelines. To watching others take your place.” She smiled at me, the venom behind her polished words clear. I nodded politely.

“Perhaps,” I said, voice measured, almost hollow. My heart beat fast, but my face betrayed nothing.

I wheeled into the hallway, retreating from the scene. My room awaited. Quiet. Solitude. I needed space to think, to let the anger and sadness burn and transform into something sharper, something that would one day cut through the illusion of normalcy that Anson and Diana lived in.

The door shut behind me. I exhaled, long and low. My hands gripped the wheels, feeling their cold steel beneath my palms. I was powerless for now. Helpless. But the fire inside me was far from extinguished. I traced the scars on my legs with my fingertips, not with pain, but with focus. Each line a reminder. Each bruise a lesson. I would not remain a pawn. Not forever.

The sun dipped lower outside, casting long shadows across the floor. I leaned back, letting my thoughts drift. Anson thought he could manipulate, Diana thought she had me figured out, and little Judy… she was innocent, yet unknowingly a weapon in their scheme. They did not know me. Not truly. And I would remember that.

When night fell, I wheeled to the window, staring at the Pack grounds. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying scents of my past victories, my former strength, and the battles I had won. They could not take that from me. Not entirely. My mind churned with strategy, patience, and silent fury. Tonight, I would rest. Tomorrow, I would move. Carefully. Calculated. Because even in this broken state, I was still Wendy. Still the Luna they underestimated.

I traced the faint moonlight on my arm, imagining the battlefield where I once thrived. Tears welled, but I blinked them back. Pain and betrayal were tools now, sharpened, ready. I would leave Nightveil Pack. And when I did… they would remember me.