The next day, Akira jolted awake as cold, soapy water splashed over her face. She sat up with a gasp, coughing, drenched and confused. Her heart pounded in her chest as she met Lyra’s cold, triumphant gaze. Lyra stood above her with a half-empty bucket in hand and a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Next time, maybe you’ll learn to wake up before sunrise,” Lyra sneered.

Akira blinked the sting out of her eyes. The day after her father's burial, and already she was being treated like a servant in her own home again.

Wordlessly, she stood and picked up the rag near the hearth, silently cleaning the soot-stained floor as Lyra watched her with veiled disdain. No apology or kindness, just cruelty wrapped in pretty skin.

Lyra’s thoughts churned like a storm. With her husband gone, nothing tethered the girl to power anymore. She was an inconvenience. Worse, a threat.

“Go now, filth, I want the entire house cleaned from roof to roots before dusk. And don’t you dare leave a speck.” She said coldly, her voice echoed like cracked ice.

Akira opened her mouth, still trembling, and her heart still trying to outrun her confusion. “M-Mother… please—”

The slap came so fast it stunned her. Her cheeks flared hot, and her eyes stung with unshed tears. She looked up at the woman who had given birth to her, who now stared at her as if she were something rotting at the corner of the house.

“No more excuses,” Lyra spat. “You might have fooled Aurora into believing you deserved something in this house. But he’s dead now. And you’re just a weed in my garden.”

Akira curled her fingers into fists, willing herself to remain calm. The ache of her father's absence was still fresh and thunderous in her chest. Alpha Aurora, her father had been the only person who ever gave her warmth. With him gone, the cold had returned stronger than ever.

As she scrambled to her feet, the housemaids passed by, smirking and whispering behind hands. They had always taken their cue from Lyra and Brynhild. Now, emboldened by the Alpha’s death, they didn’t even pretend to hide their amusement.

“Careful, princess. Don’t forget to scrub the tiles with your tears,” one of them mocked.

Akira ignored them. She’d learned early in life that pride did nothing but get you hurt. So she kept her head down and worked tirelessly cleaning the wooden floors, scrubbing every inch of the kitchen, dusting Lyra’s room and laundering Brynhild’s endless clothes.

Hours passed, and her body began to fail.

Akira scrubbed the floor until her hands hurt, crawled around and scraped her knees, and bent over till her back ached while Lyra sat by the window drinking wine and shouting orders at her.

In the luxurious confines of her room, Lyra paced up and down. Though it was hot, her hands felt cold and her mind was full of dark thoughts.

“She thinks she’ll be Alpha now, doesn’t she? That naive little brat. Just because Aurora whispered his name to a few Betas before he died doesn’t mean she gets to wear his mantle. No, not while I still breathed.” Lyra thought to herself.

Lyra pondered her options as her mind whirling with possibilities. Poison? Too brazen, too suspicious. Exile? Perhaps, but she'd need a convincing reason.

That's when a memory resurfaced. She remembered an old alliance proposal, one that the late Alpha Aurora had scornfully rejected.

Lyra's thoughts began to weave a sinister plot. She could reveal Akira's true identity to the world, but who would believe her? With Aurora's recent passing, Lyra's claims might be dismissed as mere hatred or envy.

Immediately , Lyra reached for her phone and dialed a number. Moments later, a voice crackled through.

“This is High Alpha Thane of Lighthall. Who calls me?”

“Lyra of the Waterfall Pack. I come to reopen our... discussion. Regarding a union. I believe we now have common interests.”

A long silence, then a low laugh. “You’re reaching out awfully soon after your mate’s funeral, Lyra.”

“I grieve,” she said with false softness, “but I am a mother first. A mother protecting her legacy.”

“Very well. We’ll meet tonight. Quietly,” Lyra concluded and declined the call.

As the call ended, Lyra turned, hearing footsteps outside her door. Quickly, she adjusted her expression and threw a shawl over her shoulder just as a knock came.

The door was opened, and Beta Tamsin entered the home with a respectful nod, his face carved with grief and responsibility. Tamsin was older, with silver lining his temples and wisdom etched into the lines around his eyes. He had been Aurora’s trusted second for years.

Akira stood silently near the wall, hands raw, eyes flicking between the Beta and her mother. She was still catching her breath from chores when Lyra’s voice rose, overly sweet.

“Beta Tamsin, we're honored,” she greeted, sweeping into the room as though she hadn’t spent the morning tormenting her own daughter.

He gave a polite nod. “I won’t take much of your time. The pack needs a new Alpha and according to Alpha Aurora’s last recorded wishes, he named his successor.” Tamsin uttered.

Akira’s heart thundered, and Brynhild raised an eyebrow as her lips parted in surprise.

“That I'll be me,” Brynhild thought to herself.

Tamsin continued, “Akira is to ascend.” he exclaimed, and the room stilled for a moment.

Lyra gave a controlled smile, the kind she wore at public gatherings, fake and fragile.

“Of course, it would be our honor to continue Aurora’s legacy through Akira. I’ll begin preparing her for the role immediately.” She said smoothly.

Brynhild’s jaw dropped slightly. She turned to her mother, confusion etched deep in her brow. Was this real?

Tamsin gave a curt nod. “The naming ceremony will take place in four days. The Council will attend.” Temsia declared and stood up to leave.

As he turned to leave, Akira felt something flutter in her chest. Could it have been hope? Was it genuine? Would she rise above being just a shadow at last? But that hope shattered the moment the door closed.

Lyra’s hand lashed out again, striking her across the cheek. Akira gasped, stumbling backward.

“You think this means you’ve won?” Lyra hissed. “You’ll never be Alpha, Akira. Not while I live.”

Akira clutched her face, blood mixing with tears in her mouth. “But… you just said—”

“That! ….. you really. Oh.” Lyra’s voice cut with range.

Brynhild stepped forward cautiously. “Mother… what are you doing? You just agreed—”

“I did what was necessary,” Lyra snapped. “We smile to their faces until we bury knives in their backs.”

“I have somewhere urgent to go immediately, in case they send another beta, let them know I was in the city getting some stuff,” Lyra said, focusing solely on Akira. Her tone gave no room for arguments

“Okay, ma!” Akira muttered, her voice sounded more like whispers.

Lyra turned on her heel immediately leaving behind a whirlwind of confusion and dread.

Brynhild stared after her mother, then glanced at Akira, the same uncertainty flickering in her own eyes. She opened her mouth as if to say something—an apology or a warning but she said none of it. Instead, she yelled at Akira taking control of the house in their mother's absence.