Chapter 36
Vedant
The house feels emptier the moment Chiara leaves. It’s like she took something important with her, and I’m walking around aimlessly trying to look for it.
Her scent lingers in the air for hours after she’s gone, faint but stubborn. I inhale the smell of her perfume like I could get high from it, then catch myself and cringe, alone in the vacancy of my house.
The sofa still has the small dent where she used to curl up around her homework. The coffee table where our hands first brushed while exchanging the pencil sharpener feels like a cruel echo.
I tell myself it’s for the best. Her time near me was well spent, and she did indeed heal faster. Now that she’s almost better, it feels important to let her return to her own space.
But the truth is that the house doesn’t feel right without her. It’s like I lost the most important piece of it.
I’m wallowing in these thoughts when I hear my father’s car approaching. The low purr of the engine pulls me from my memories, and within seconds, he’s unlocking the door and stepping inside without pretense.
His attention finds me immediately, pinning me where I’m standing over the coffee table like a fool.
“Vedant,” my dad says curtly as he closes the door. “I trust everything went smoothly while I was away on my trip?”
“As smooth as ever,” I mutter. Immediately, I know that he will take the comment as a slight.
His gaze turns especially sharp. “Don’t start.”
I swallow the retort I wish I could hurl at him. It’s easier to let him talk. Besides, he has always preferred my silence.
“We must speak about important matters, son,” he says. He’s wasting no time cutting to the chase, even after returning home from a long trip. Typical.
My stomach sinks. This can’t be good.
“While I was away,” he continues, “I spoke with a few of the other Alphas. From all reports, Alice has been training diligently. She’s grown stronger, more disciplined.” His tone softens slightly. “She is shaping herself up to be a fine Luna, it seems.”
There it is again. The same tired conversation we’ve had before. And coming off of the heels of my confrontation with Alice a few days ago, it is wildly out of depth.
I straighten. “Alice isn’t my Luna.”
He exhales through his nose, the sound a soft warning I had learned from years of dodging his anger in my childhood.
“You said that before, Vedant. But it’s time to think of the pack and your place in it, not your childish whims. Alice has a powerful wolf and is consistently proving herself to be a favorable match. Plus, her alliance would strengthen us.”
“I’m not choosing a mate jusy for power,” I say evenly.
He fixes me with a hard look. “How do you not yet understand? That’s exactly what you must do.”
“I understand your line of thinking,” I say in a measured voice. It is an acknowledgment of his suggestion, but certainly not an agreement. I take my leave before we can argue the same circular conversation further.
Later that night, I’m in my room, bent over a tower of homework and chewing anxiously at the end of my pencil, when my phone buzzes. It’s a message from my father.
Come downstairs. Now.
I can tell by his punctuation that this is not poised to be a pleasant conversation. It takes every ounce of effort and energy in me to stand and descend the stairs to meet him.
When I do, he’s standing in front of the fireplace, holding his phone so tightly I wonder if he might break it.
“What is this?” he barks out, holding the screen up to my face.
I recognize it immediately and feel my stomach bottom out.
It’s Alice’s video.
I see who sent it and notice that Alice included her speculation when she sent it to my father as well, expressing her concerns that Chiara was breaking in and trying to seduce me.
My palms begin to sweat. This is bad. “It’s not what it—”
“Alice sent this to me,” he interrupts sharply. “Along with this.” He taps a button, and another video begins to play.
I recognize this one, too. It’s me with my fist raised before my father can press pay, frozen in time. Me preparing to punch that idiot who wouldn’t leave Chiara alone.
I can still hear the sound of my fist hitting bone. Even standing there, I can recall the satisfaction of how it felt.
My father presses play, and I watch it play out from this new perspective. It is swift and rather efficient if I do say so myself.
When the video ends, my father glares at me. “Do you have any idea what this looks like? You, defending and making excuses for some girl—some orphan—when your future Luna is right there?”
“Alice’s not my Luna,” I snap out once more before I can stop myself.
His voice rises, booming through the house. “Then what do you want, exactly, Vedant? A weak mate? A human? Someone without a wolf who will drag you and this pack down?”
“Chiara isn’t weak,” I bite out. “She’s stronger than anyone gives her credit for. And it’s not what you think it is between her and I.”
“Strong?” He scoffs. “She has no lineage! No rank! Do you even hear yourself?”
I take a step back, fists clenched. Nelson growls inside my head, restless and angry, drowning out almost every other thought.
“I smelled that whore when I came home today,” my father continues. “You need to start concentrating on what matters. On who matters.”
“I don’t care what you think,” I say finally, my voice low. “I’m not choosing a Luna because you think her pedigree matters. Alice is not a good match, and I will never choose her. That’s final.”
My father’s eyes narrow. “Then you’re not ready to lead. I was a fool to think I could ever shape you into someone worthy. Now I fear you are showing that you are incapable.”
He storms out, leaving me standing in the silence he always leaves behind. Being yelled at by my father always has the same effect on me that a straight punch to the jaw would: I’m shocked and jarred at once.
There is nothing to do but retreat to my room. I go back to where I was sitting when I first got his text, but I can’t imagine trying to pick my homework back up right now. So I sit there in the silence until it's late in the evening, and then I lie down in my bed in the silence. All the while, I am plagued by racing, ceaseless thoughts.
Hours later, I’m still awake, staring at the ceiling. The moonlight spills across the room, and I watch the shadows of the tree branches dance in the passing wind.
Nelson’s voice hums in my mind again. He does not understand. He cannot. He’s incapable.
I close my eyes. I can still see her in the kitchen that last morning. Chiara had cooked me breakfast again, this time taking extra care not to burn the toast and to make the eggs the way I prefer.
I can vividly picture her thanking me, smiling, trying to hide how much she didn’t want to go.
Maybe my father’s right. Maybe I am reckless.
But when I think of Chiara, that recklessness doesn’t feel like that great of a risk.
Because if strength is measured by bloodlines, then I don’t want it. But if it’s measured by heart, then she’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.
