Chapter 8

MIRA’S POV The moment I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, I could feel it. The air was thick. Charged. Tense. Like walking into a storm right before the sky cracks open. Then I heard it—my mother’s voice. “You think I don’t see what you do all day? You come home stinking of beer and sweat and expect me to sit here quietly like a good little wife?” she shrieked. “Oh, give it a rest, Liana,” my father growled back. “You’ve been nagging since the second I walked through that damn door. Maybe if you weren’t so damn bitter, someone would want to come home to you.” I stepped carefully into the living room just in time to see my mother fling a glass cup toward the wall. “MOM!” I screamed instinctively. I ducked just as the glass shattered into a thousand pieces above my head. Shards sprinkled across the floor like ice. My heart pounded against my ribs as I straightened up. “Are you crazy?! You could’ve hit me!” My mother didn’t even blink. “Then maybe move faster.” “Liana, enough!” my father shouted. “No, let her stay!” my mother snapped as she turned on him again. “Let your precious daughter watch you throw your life away one bottle at a time. Maybe she’ll learn what kind of man to avoid—assuming she ever gets a man in the first place.” I couldn’t take it. “STOP!” I screamed. My voice was louder than I’d ever heard it before. They both froze. Turned. Faced me. “I’m so sick of this!” My hands were shaking and my voice was cracking “Every time I come home, it’s the same damn thing. Yelling. Screaming. Glass flying through the air like we're living in some kind of war zone.” Neither of them said anything. My mom crossed her arms, my dad scowled, but for once they were both quiet. “I just want peace,” I said, quieter now, because the lump in my throat was growing too fast. “I want to walk through this door and not feel like I’m stepping into hell. I want to come home and breathe, not brace myself.” My mother scoffed. “If you brought home a single coin, maybe we wouldn’t have to fight.” I blinked at her. “What?” She walked toward me with her chin raised. “All the girls your age are doing something useful with their lives. They’ve mated into noble families. They've lifted their families up. But you—” She looked me up and down, and it felt like a slap. “You’re still here. Unmated. Useless.” My jaw dropped. I took a step back like her words had weight. And they did. “You think I don’t want more?” I said, voice trembling. “You think I haven’t tried? That I don’t lie awake at night wondering what the hell is wrong with me?” “Oh, spare me the tears, Mira,” she sneered. “You’re not a child anymore. You want a better life? Go out and get one. But until then, don’t stand there acting like you're better than us.” “I never said I was better than anyone!” I snapped. “I just want to be happy! But every time I take a step forward, you remind me that it’s never enough. That I’m not enough.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll never amount to anything with that attitude. You think any noble will look at you? You’ll be stuck in this house until your hair turns grey and no one even remembers your name.” It felt like the floor dropped out from under me. Her words echoed in my skull. You’ll never amount to anything. No noble will ever look at you. You’ll be stuck in this house forever. I didn’t cry. Not yet. I just stood there, frozen, watching the woman who was supposed to love me tear me down piece by piece. My father didn’t say a word—he just sank into the old armchair and reached for another bottle, as if I were invisible. And maybe I was. Maybe I always had been. I didn’t know what to say. I just ran past her with tears in my eyes and rushed straight to my bedroom. I slammed my bedroom door shut and collapsed onto the bed, face buried in my pillow. The tears came faster than I expected. I bit my lip, trying to stop the sobs, but it was no use. They tore from my chest like I’d been holding them back for years. Maybe I had. The screaming, the shattering glass, the harsh words—gods, it never stopped. I hugged my arms around myself, curling up tight as if I could block out the sound of my mother’s voice calling my father a "worthless drunk." Those words she said to me…my goodness. My head throbbed from the yelling, and my heart—my heart just hurt I hated this house. We were nobles, sure. A low-ranking family with a dying name and even worse reputation. My mother always boasted that they were council members, but what good was a title when my father drank half the income and gambled the rest away? I sniffled and wiped my eyes, staring blankly at the cracked ceiling. I just want to get out. A soft knock came before the door creaked open, and in walked Angela, my sister. Her black curls were tied back in a lazy braid, and she leaned against the doorframe like she hadn’t just witnessed our family unraveling downstairs. "That was intense," she said with a raised brow. I rolled over, burying my face again. "Not now, Angela." She ignored me and plopped down on the edge of the bed, picking at a loose thread in the blanket. “You alright?” I didn’t answer. My throat was still tight, but the tears had stopped. Angela sighed. “They’re getting worse. Mom’s been on edge since the last council meeting. Word is, she got snubbed by one of the royal secretaries.” "Maybe if Dad stopped wasting our money, she wouldn’t be so angry," I muttered. Angela chuckled . “And maybe if Mom stopped treating everyone like garbage, Dad wouldn’t be drunk every night.” That got a weak smile from me. Just barely. “Seriously, Mira. You’ve been holding all this in for too long.” “I know.” I turned and sat up, wiping under my eyes. “I just—this place suffocates me. I hate walking around with this name that means nothing. We used to be something. Now we’re just… pathetic.” Angela looked at me, her expression softening. “You’re not pathetic.” “Tell that to Mom. She practically spat in my face because I’m not mated yet.” I swallowed hard, “She said I’d be stuck here till I’m old and gray, like I’m some forgotten burden.” Angela winced. “That’s harsh, even for her.” “I can’t live like this, Angie,” I whispered. “I need a way out. I want to marry someone powerful. Someone noble. Someone who can lift me out of this hell.” Angela raised a brow. “You mean like Nova?” I glanced at her. How did she know that? She smirked. “I heard through the grapevine… Nova’s mated to Alpha Grey.” My jaw clenched. The pain was sudden. Sharp. I didn’t want to feel jealous—I hated the feeling—but there it was, pulling at my insides. “She told me,” I said quietly. Angela whistled. “Damn. The Alpha of all people? Can you imagine? That girl got lucky.” Lucky. That’s what they always said about Nova. She was always the lucky one. The beautiful one. The one who didn’t even try, but still had everyone orbiting her like she was some kind of sun. She’d walk into a room and every boy’s head would turn. Teachers loved her. Elders adored her. Even my mother liked her more than she liked me. All because she was sweet and charming and effortlessly radiant. Me? I had to claw for every sliver of attention I got. And even then, it was never enough. Angela nudged me. “Imagine the life she’s about to live. Royal dinners, silk dresses, parties, luxury, security... A real bed without broken springs.” I exhaled a humorless laugh. “And all the influence that comes with being Luna,” she added. “We’d be fools not to envy her just a little.” Envy didn’t even scratch the surface of what I felt. I stared at the floor, jaw tight. “She’s always had it easy.” Angela glanced at me, sensing the change in my voice. “She doesn’t even try, Angie. Do you remember that festival three years ago? I spent weeks planning my outfit and hair. Nova showed up late in some wrinkled dress and still left with the attention of every eligible bachelor.” Angela nodded slowly. “Yeah. I remember.” “It’s always been like that,” I said. My voice rose as I spoke “She breathes and people fall in love. Meanwhile, I break my back just to be seen.” Angela leaned in to whisper to me “Mira… don’t go down this path.” I stood abruptly, pacing. My mind was spinning too fast to stop now. “She doesn’t deserve Alpha Grey,” I snapped. “She’s not even ready for that kind of life. She’s soft. Naive. She’ll drown in palace politics.” Angela stood too. “Mira.” “No,” I said, turning to her. “I could be Luna. I should be. I’ve studied etiquette, diplomacy, council law. I’ve trained for this. I’ve dreamed of this.” Angela’s eyes widened. “You’re not saying—” “I’m going to take him,” I said, my voice suddenly calm. “I’m going to make Alpha Grey mine.” “Mira,” Angela hissed. “You’re talking about betrayal.” I shrugged. “She won’t even see it coming.” Angela’s expression was a mixture of fear and fascination. “And what if it doesn’t work?” “It will,” I said firmly. “Because I want it more than she ever did.” And I meant it. For the first time in a long time, I felt something sharper than pain. I felt purpose.