The Wolf Who Loved Too Late

I stared at Grant, stunned. "I didn't do anything."

"Don't lie!" His knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists.

"Where's the antidote?"

"I told you, I didn't-"

"Guards!" Grant cut me off, his voice a sharp command.

"Drag her out and make her kneel in the snow! She stays there until she tells the truth!"

Two burly servants rushed in, grabbing my arms and hauling me outside. The winter wind sliced through my thin clothes like a blade.

"Grant, I swear I didn't-" I struggled, my voice breaking, but the servants forced me to my knees in the snow. The icy flakes soaked through my skirt, clinging to my skin, the cold wrapping around me like a venomous snake.

Grant loomed over me, his eyes hard with suspicion. "The antidote."

My teeth chattered, but I shook my head. "I didn't poison her."

"You'll talk when you're ready to face the truth." He turned to leave. "Kneel there until you do."

The wind howled, snow stinging my face.

At first, I gritted my teeth and held on, but as hours dragged by, my limbs went numb, my fingers purple from the cold. The sun sank, then rose again.

Delilah still hadn't woken, and I'd been kneeling in the frozen yard for a full day and night.

Nora couldn't take it anymore.

She fell to her knees, sobbing as she begged Grant. "Please, General! Let Helena up! She'll die out here!"

Grant stood on the veranda, his gaze icy.

"If she'd confess, she'd have spoken by now."

I forced my eyes up, catching one last glimpse of him snapping a red plum blossom from a branch, hurrying off to comfort Delilah. My vision blurred, the snow and wind swallowing everything as my battered heart finally shattered.

When I came to, every bone in my body ached like it'd been crushed.

Nora was crying, dabbing salve on my frostbitten skin.

"Helena. you're awake."

"How's Delilah?" My voice rasped, barely audible.

"She's fine!" Nora trembled with rage.

"Grant waited until she woke up before letting anyone bring you inside or call a healer!"

She wiped her tears.

"You're Argentum Town's brightest she-wolf, Helena. So many wolves would've killed to be your mate. Why do they get to treat you like this?"

I closed my eyes.

The dull ache in my chest had gone numb, like a piece of me had been carved out, leaving nothing but a hollow space where the wind howled.

For days, I kept to my courtyard, shutting out the world.

The sounds of footsteps and laughter beyond my gate felt like they belonged to another life. I spent hours lying on my cot, staring at the ceiling beams, barely touching the food Nora brought.

Until-

"Helena, Grant's here."

Nora's voice came from the outer room.

I sat up slowly.

Grant stood in the doorway, tall and unyielding as ever.

He glanced at me, his tone flat.

"Let's put this behind us. Don't go after Delilah again. Keep doing your duty as the estate's she-wolf, and tomorrow, you're coming with me to Beta Edric Royce's birthday feast."

I lowered my eyes. "Yes."

On the carriage ride to the feast, Grant sat next to Delilah, passing her a hand warmer, then a heated cloth to wipe her hands.

"Grant, I can manage." she cooed, leaning closer to him.

I stared out the window at the falling snow, like I was in a different world altogether.

Beta Edric's banquet hall sparkled with gold and crystal, packed with guests.

The moment Grant walked in, a crowd of young wolves swarmed him, trading pleasantries. Delilah clung to his side, their closeness obvious, his attention entirely on her. He didn't spare me a single glance.

I watched them quietly, my face blank.

I'd grown used to this-used to the pitying looks from the crowd, used to the sting of being invisible.

"The Morgan pack will now present their gift!" the steward announced, drawing every eye in the hall.

Edric's face lit up as he took the ornate box from a servant, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. But when he opened it, his warm smile froze, his expression darkening to something grim and terrifying. "Who prepared this?"

Curious guests craned their necks.

Inside the box was a headless statue of a longevity deity, the jagged break at its neck stark and eerie.

On a birthday, a gift like this was no less than a curse of early death.