"You dare poison your own sister!"
Alpha Nexus' voice thundered through the living room, his rage shaking the very walls of their house. The force of his glare alone felt like a death sentence, his burning amber eyes piercing into Elara as if he could will her into submission with just his fury. If glares could kill, she was certain she would have already dropped dead at his feet. The sheer fury in his eyes enough to burn her soul.
But she had no soul, did she? At least, not to him. Not to anyone.
Elara stood frozen in the center of the room, her hands trembling at her sides. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs, but she willed herself not to show weakness. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice coming out soft yet firm.
"Dad, I didn't do anything," Elara's voice was soft, nearly a whisper, but steady, at least for now.
She swallowed the ache rising in her throat and forced herself to sound unaffected. But inside, her heart bled. Why was it always her? Why was it so easy for her father to believe the worst of her?
A bitter sigh escaped her lips as she fought against the sting of tears. She had learned long ago that tears meant nothing in this house, especially when they came from her. No matter how much she longed for her father's approval, no matter how much she wished he would look at her the way he did Sofia, it was always the same. She was never enough.
"You dare lie to me, Elara?!" Alpha Nexus' roared, his anger unfaltering. "Who else would have poisoned her? No one in this pack could have done it—except you!"
Except you.
It always came back to this. She was the cursed one, the unwanted one. The mistake.
Elara clenched her fists so hard her nails bit into her skin, the sharp pain grounding her, keeping her from breaking. The words cut deep, carving yet another wound into a heart that had already been battered too many times to count. Her voice cracked, but she refused to let it show. "So suddenly, I'm the only black sheep in this pack? The only one with access to poisons?" She forced out a bitter laugh. "No one else has hands? No one else could have done this?"
Her father's scowl deepened, his nostrils flaring in rage. "Don't play games with me, Elara! I know it's you because your sister's symptoms—" He gestured sharply toward the couch where Sofia lay. "—aren't caused by an ordinary poison. Look at her!"
Elara's eyes reluctantly flickered to her sister.
Sofia sat slumped on the plush sofa, her body draped in a silk blanket, her usually radiant face now sickly pale. Strands of her radiant blonde hair, hair their father had always adored, were now streaked with eerie shades of deep black and crimson red. Dark, faint markings coiled around her wrists like shadows creeping over her skin.
Even Elara had to admit, she looked sick. If she hadn't known better, she might have believed it herself.
But she did know better.
Her father's voice turned sharp, slicing through the air like a blade. He turned to Elara, eyes burning with accusation. "Now tell me, Elara, what does that indicate?"
Elara stayed silent. She already knew the answer.
"It indicates dark magic, Elara! A power that you—" He spat the word as if it were filth. "—have been cursed with since birth!"
That did it.
The first tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. Then another. And another.
She hated crying in front of them. It gave them power, it gave him power. But no matter how much she bit her lip, how much she willed herself to stay strong, the pain was too much.
Her father's hatred was too much.
Her legs wobbled, but she refused to fall. She had always known that her father resented her existence, but the hatred in his voice tonight was suffocating.
Tears welled up despite her best efforts to keep them at bay. No matter how much she had steeled herself, no matter how many times she had whispered to herself that she was used to it—it still hurt.
It always hurt.
From the corner of her eye, she glanced back at Sofia.
Anyone else would have been fooled by the pitiful sight before them. The weak posture, the trembling hands, the sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead, it was an impeccable performance. A performance that only Elara could see through.
Because there it was, hidden beneath the surface, the faintest curl of smug satisfaction playing at Sofia's lips.
Elara's heart clenched painfully.
She was faking it.
Of course, she was.
It was always like this. Every misfortune, every inconvenience, every disaster—it always, always found a way to become Elara's fault.
Her father's patience snapped. "I'm asking you for the last time," he growled. "Did you use your dark magic to poison your sister?"
Elara's lips parted, but before she could utter a word, a bitter, hysterical laugh escaped her instead.
She couldn't help it. The irony of it all was too much.
How ridiculous was it that they were blaming her for something she hadn't even learned to wield? A power she didn't understand, a magic she had never been taught to control, something she had never used before—and yet, they all acted as if she was some powerful dark sorceress who had mastered the very arts they feared.
She wiped at her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand, her fingers trembling. When she looked back at her father, her expression was hollow, her voice laced with resignation.
"It's not like you'd believe me even if I said otherwise," she whispered, a bitter smile curling on her lips. "You'd still insist that I did it."
A hesitant voice broke the heavy silence.
"Honey… what if she really isn't behind this?"
Elara's breath hitched as she turned toward the source of the voice, her mother. Luna Mirabel.
For a brief, fleeting moment, something like hope flickered in Elara's chest. But it was quickly extinguished.
"Shut up, Mirabel!" her father barked, his voice sharp and unyielding. "She did it! She's not only a useless good-for-nothing, she's a cursed being! A dark omega! Why are you defending her?"
Elara watched as her mother flinched, her already frail form shrinking further.
The Luna's lips quivered, but her resolve crumbled as quickly as it had formed. With a meek nod, she murmured, "Yes…. my bad. I'm sure she did it….. she's a dark child, after all."
Elara closed her eyes briefly, inhaling sharply through her nose.
Of course.
She should have known better than to expect anything different.
It had always been like this. Her mother—the so-called Luna—was nothing more than her father's shadow, a woman who bent to his will without question. She never had an opinion of her own, never dared to stand against him. Not for herself. And certainly not for Elara. This was something she hated her mother for.
The weight of her father's glare pulled her back to the present.
"Elara, cut the crap and answer me!" He stepped closer, jabbing a finger toward Sofia. "Did you do this?"