Chapter 5

Rayder pushed open the kitchen door with his shoulder, his hand firmly on Luara's lower back. Aurie was already standing, leaning against the counter, with a broad smile on her face and her eyes shining as if it were Christmas.“Luara, this is Aurie.”

The girl turned immediately and ran to Luara with restrained enthusiasm, her arms half-open, as if expecting a hug, but still testing the limits.

“Hi! It's so nice to meet you! Rayder has never brought anyone here before.”

Gamma crossed his arms, watching the two of them. The scene seemed innocent, almost domestic, but something in the air didn't fit. Aurie twirled strands of hair between her fingers, smiling too much, and her scent—the sweet citrus of youth—carried an undertone of something thicker, something possessive.

“Nice to meet you, Aurie.” Luara forced a smile and kept her distance, her eyes assessing the girl from head to toe. Aurie looked to be just over eighteen: thin, delicate, pretty. Young enough to call Rayder uncle; old enough to look like she had forgotten the relationship.

“She's lying,” growled Nyssara, already alert. “She doesn't want to share anything. Much less him.”

Luara shook her head, trying to silence her instincts. She was just a girl, raised by him; she was trying to be kind.

“I'll make us something to eat,” she said, grabbing a knife and some vegetables from the counter.

Aurie approached quickly, skipping.

“Rayder doesn't like red onions; he prefers white ones. And he doesn't like raw garlic, it gives him heartburn.”

“Oh... thank you. I—”

"Oh! And he hates rare meat. Always well done, otherwise he won't touch it. Can I cut it for you?“

”No, I—“

Aurie was already picking up the ingredients. She smiled and bumped lightly into Luara, as if by accident.

”Sorry. It's just a habit. Whenever I'm here, I cook for him. Like... since forever."

Luara clenched her fingers against the counter. Her stomach churned—and it wasn't hunger.

“She marks her territory like a wolf, even without transforming: too much smiling, too sweet a voice, and her eyes... always on him,” hissed Nyssara.

“You know what? You can keep going,” said Luara, placing the knife on the sink and leaving the kitchen without looking back. She went to her room and slammed the door with restrained force. She didn't want to seem like a jealous teenager, but she felt invaded, as if there were another female competing for a space that should be hers alone.

Minutes later, the doorknob turned carefully. Gamma entered, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, arms crossed and eyes serious.

“She just wanted to help. Aurie has always been like that. She never had many people around her.”

Luara didn't answer right away. Rayder's scent was calming, but Nyssara's voice wouldn't shut up.

“I'm not fragile,” she said finally. “But I don't like being pushed out of my own home.”

Rayder approached her; his warm hand moved up the side of her arm.

“You won't be. This is yours too. She'll understand. I'll talk to her.”

Luara nodded, but inside, the storm raged on.

Luara went downstairs to the sound of laughter. Aurie was sitting on Rayder's lap—her legs tucked under her, her arms around his neck, laughing at something he said. Luara stopped in the middle of the step; the scene made her stomach churn. The girl didn't even try to hide it when her eyes met Luara's, and yet she stayed there, as if that were her place.

“She thinks she's the female of the house,” growled Nyssara. “She challenges us. She knows what she's doing.”

Rayder saw Luara and smiled, slapping the girl's thigh with his palm.

“Aurie, get up. You're too big for that.”

“You put me on your lap, Uncle,” she replied in a sweet voice; she slowly climbed down and smoothed her hair as if nothing had happened.

Luara passed them silently, entered the kitchen, and sought air, distance, and control. She was really trying, but Aurie was always there—interrupting, commenting, making decisions that weren't hers to make.

Earlier, Luara had gone to fold Rayder's clean clothes: Aurie had already done it. The night before, Luara wanted to make dinner: Aurie was already at the stove, saying, “He doesn't eat meat like that, Luara. Uncle Rayder has very discerning tastes.” Today, she was decorating the living room with balloons—his birthday, his first with Luara—but Aurie made it seem like it was all hers.

Luara took a glass and filled it with wine; the sound of the liquid filling the glass drowned out Nyssara's voice: “She wants to take your place. And you're letting her.”

Rayder came in shortly after, shirtless and his hair still wet from his shower.

“Is everything okay?”

“Sure,” Luara lied, bringing the glass to her lips.

“You're tense.”

“Normal. It's not easy to share space with someone who already feels like they own it.”

Rayder frowned.

“Are you talking about Aurie?”

She dropped the glass in the sink; the glass cracked loudly.

“She never leaves your side. She decides what you eat. She decorates your house. She sits on your lap as if... as if she were the female of the pack!”

“I raised her, Luara,” his voice was harsher than usual. “She sees me as her father.”

“And what do you see her as?”

Silence fell between them. Rayder took a deep breath and approached her calmly, but Luara backed away.

“I've waited too long to trust someone again. I'm not going to stand by and watch another wolf mark her territory on me.”

“You're overreacting.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“She wants you. You don't realize it, or you don't want to realize it.”

“She's a girl.”

“She's a woman! And she knows exactly what she's doing!”

Nyssara growled so loudly inside her that Luara had to bite her tongue to stifle the sound.

“Do you want me to take control? I can end this now. I can rip her out of here.”

Luara blinked rapidly; she felt the heat rise through her veins and the anger burn in her bones. Rayder was still looking at her—and there was something different in his amber eyes: disappointment.

“I don't want to discuss this today,” she said finally. "It's my birthday. I wanted it to be a lighthearted evening. For us.“

Luara looked down. For us. Or for her?

”She's already won,“ whispered Nyssara. ”Today, the house is hers."

The days passed like splinters stuck under her skin. Aurie was sweet, attentive, always smiling, but she was everywhere, all the time. She knew where Rayder left his keys, his schedule, how he drank his coffee; she corrected Luara with a gentle laugh and an innocent phrase: “He doesn't like it that way,” “He prefers it this way,” “I've done that for you before, uncle.”

No matter how hard Luara tried to ignore it, every word sounded like a jab, as if to say: I know him better. This place has always been mine.

Rayder didn't seem to notice — or pretended not to notice.

A few days later, Luara was alone in her room. The fight that night still burned in her veins: harsh words, slamming doors, Rayder saying she saw evil where there was only innocence, and Luara wanting to explain, but unable to — her pride hurt more than the pain.

Now, alone in bed, missing him hurt more than the argument. The side of the bed was cold and empty. She got up — barefoot, the cold floor beneath her feet — wearing only his T-shirt, too big and laden with the scent she loved. She just wanted to apologize: that's all. To find him, hug him, and say, “Forgive me for mistrusting you...”

She went downstairs quietly; the house was dark, but a faint glow escaped from the kitchen. Then she heard a moan—low, sharp, hot—and froze in the middle of the hallway, her body locked and her heart in free fall. Another sound: a crack of wood, a muffled growl, and then the voice she knew better than her own:

“Rayder... harder...”

Luara walked—one step, two—each one a blow. The yellow light from the kitchen illuminated the floor, and the smell of sweat, sex, and betrayal came before the image.

And then she saw it.

Aurie was on all fours on the kitchen table, her hands firmly on the edges, her eyes rolled back in pleasure, her body naked; behind her, Rayder held the girl's waist, thrusting hard, moaning against her neck — completely surrendered.

They didn't see Luara, didn't feel her, didn't hear her. And it was better that way, because what Luara felt couldn't be contained in a scream.

Her chest exploded in silence; Nyssara howled with such agony that even the spirit world couldn't ignore it.

The bond was broken there: shattered. Irretrievable.

Luara tasted blood in her mouth; she didn't even know if it was hers. The kitchen smelled of sweat, moans, skin against skin. She didn't need to see much — just enough to destroy everything: Rayder between Aurie's legs, on the damn table.The girl moaned louder, as if she liked being taken that way — as if she knew Luara was there. And she did know, because she turned her face and smiled: satisfied, cynical.

The wolf inside Luara exploded. “Tear them both apart,” growled Nyssara.

Rayder turned at the growl, stopped, looked — his eyes wide, his breath still heavy, his body still inside Aurie.

“Luara...” That was all he could say.

Aurie pretended to be scared, pulled a sheet from the chair, and began to cry.

“Forgive me, Luara... it was my fault. I... I couldn't resist. I've always been here, I've always loved him... but I swear I'll leave, I'll disappear if you want me to! But Uncle Rayder is not to blame.”

“Uncle?” Luara spat out the word.