Anissa's accusations pierced the air.
"You pushed me, Dahlia! You killed my baby!"
Clyde's expression turned thunderous.
"Enough, Anissa!" he roared.
"Your lies and blame are staggering."
Anissa's face contorted.
"You're defending her?"
Clyde's voice cut deep.
"I'm defending truth."
"You promised to care for our child."
"Yet, carelessness took its life."
Anissa's eyes widened.
"That's not fair!" she shrieked.
Clyde's words poured like acid.
"I never wanted a child, Anissa."
"But I grew attached."
"To the thought of fatherhood."
"To our family."
"You snatched that away."
Anissa's face crumpled.
"Clyde, please..."
But he turned his back.
"Leave me alone, Anissa."
The silence was oppressive.
Anissa's sobs echoed.
Clyde's shoulders stiffened.
He walked out.
Leaving Anissa shattered.
And me, stunned.
Days turned into weeks, and Clyde finally returned home with Anissa. Her frailty was evident, and Clyde's concern was palpable as he helped her upstairs.
Weeks passed, and Anissa remained secluded in her room. The silence was oppressive, and I couldn't help but worry. Clyde tried to coax her out, but she refused.
One day, I noticed a change. Anissa emerged from her room, holding Rhodes tightly. She pampered him, dressing him in adorable outfits, taking him to school, and showering him with affection.
"Mommy's little prince," she cooed.
Rhodes giggled, enthralled by Anissa's attention.
I watched, torn between empathy and unease. Was this healthy? Was Rhodes a substitute for the child she lost?
Clyde seemed oblivious, or chose to ignore it. But I saw the way Anissa's eyes lit up around Rhodes.
A mix of emotions swirled within me:
Empathy for Anissa's grief.
Concern for her fragile state.
Unease about Rhodes' role.
One evening, as I helped with dinner, Anissa sat beside Rhodes.
"Tell Mommy about your day, sweetie," she whispered.
Rhodes chattered excitedly.
Anissa's smile faltered for a moment.
A glimmer of sadness crept in.
But she recovered quickly.
"I love you, Rhodes," she whispered.
Rhodes hugged her.
"I love you too, aunt Anissa."
The scene was heartwarming yet unsettling
....
I immersed myself in the role of Talia, shedding Dahlia's worries.
The scene unfolded:
Talia, newly-minted alpha, stood tall.
Lord Ravenswood and Kael scoffed.
"A woman? An alpha?" Lord Ravenswood sneered.
"You're just a child, Talia," Kael added.
Talia's eyes flashed.
"I may be 19, but I've proven myself."
Her voice commanded attention.
"My decisions will shape this pack's future."
Lord Ravenswood snorted.
"You'll fail, Talia. You're weak."
Talia's jaw clenched.
"Watch me."
The camera panned out.
Talia's determination radiated.
Cuts and takes blurred.
Hours passed.
Talia woke, dawn's light creeping through the windows.
She stretched, yawned, and began her morning routine.
Brushing her raven-black hair, she prepared for the alpha's meeting.
But as she reached for her mask, panic set in.
It wasn't on her dresser.
Or the nightstand.
She scoured her room, heart racing.
The scar on her cheek seemed to throb.
A constant reminder of her father's mistake.
A brutal training session gone wrong.
Talia's hands trembled.
Without her mask, she felt exposed.
Vulnerable.
The pack would see her scar.
Judge her.
Fear her.
Or worse, pity her.
Lord Ravenswood's words echoed.
"You're weak, Talia. Unfit to lead."
Talia's determination hardened.
She wouldn't let her father's words define her.
But the mask was more than a symbol.
It hid her shame.
Her insecurity.
She recalled the day she got the scar.
Her father's fury.
The pack's gasps.
Kael's horrified expression.
Talia's eyes stung.
She took a deep breath.
Composing herself, she called her loyal servant.
"Lila, I need you."
Lila rushed in.
"My lady, what's wrong?"
Talia's voice steadied.
"I lost my mask."
Lila's expression turned sympathetic.
"I'll find it, my lady."
Talia nodded.
"Quickly, Lila. The meeting awaits."