Gentle Heart

I woke up to the sound of arguing downstairs.

It dragged me out of sleep too fast, my heart already pounding before my eyes were even fully open. For a second I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling of my bedroom, listening to my father's voice booming up through the floorboards and my little sister crying underneath it.

I groaned and pulled the blanket up over my head, annoyed that my family was always up so early while I preferred to sleep in. It wasn't even properly light outside yet. The house was cold, the kind of cold that settled into the walls overnight and never really left, and all I wanted was another hour. Just one more hour of quiet. Just one more hour where nobody was yelling, nobody was crying, and nobody needed me to step in between them.

But that was never how mornings worked in this house.

"I didn't even do anything!" Wren cried out from below, her voice high and panicked, and that was enough to make me sit up.

Wren was sixteen. She was still just a kid, really, even if Dad liked to pretend otherwise when it suited him. She didn't sneak out. She didn't have anywhere to sneak out to, and she didn't have a reason to. She spent most of her time in her room, or following me around the house, or trying to stay so quiet and so small that Dad would forget she was even there.

I climbed out of bed and threw my robe around my body, tying it tight at my waist as I stepped out into the hallway. The wooden floor was freezing under my bare feet, and I could already smell coffee brewing downstairs, bitter and sharp, mixing with the stale scent of my father's cigarettes from the night before.

By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, my father was already in Wren's face.

Darius. Alpha of the Silvervein Clan. My father.

He was a big man, broad and hard and built like he was always ready for a fight, and right now he was using every inch of that size to tower over my little sister. His face was red, his jaw clenched tight, and his voice filled the whole downstairs.

"Do you think I'm stupid?! You snuck out!" He roared in her face, and I sighed.

He wasn't asking her. He never asked. When Dad decided something had happened, that was the truth, and no one was allowed to tell him otherwise. It didn't matter what evidence there was, or what anyone else said. If he thought it was true in his own head, then it must have happened that way.

Wren was pressed back against the wall, her hands up near her chest like she was trying to protect herself, tears already streaming down her cheeks.

"Maybe it was Kael, Dad," I said, making his head snap in my direction.

His eyes narrowed on me immediately, cold and furious, like I'd just insulted him by opening my mouth at all.

"Your brother is twenty-three years old, Runa. Why would he sneak out?" He asked, trying to make me sound like an idiot. He always does that. He twists everything I say until it sounds stupid, until I sound stupid, until I start to wonder if maybe I am.

"Because he used to do stuff like that and make it look like it was me," I answered plainly, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "I can't begin to tell you how many times you punished me for something I never actually did."

It was true. Kael had been doing it for years. He'd sneak out late, or he'd break something, or he'd take something that wasn't his, and somehow, by morning, it was always my fault. He was good at it. He knew exactly how to plant the idea in Dad's head and then step back and let Dad do the rest. And Dad never questioned it. He never once stopped to ask if maybe his perfect son, his heir, was lying. He just believed whatever made me look worse.

Dad scoffed, loud and dismissive, like what I'd just said was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"You're a liar," he spat, closing the distance between us before I could even take a step back.

My heart jumped into my throat, but I forced myself not to flinch. I was twenty years old. I wasn't a little kid anymore, and I was tired of being treated like one. Tired of being blamed. Tired of watching him do this to Wren, too.

"I have no reason to lie to you, Dad," I said, trying to sound confident even though my hands were shaking slightly at my sides. "That's not the point anyways. The point is, maybe Wren didn't do it."

For a second, I thought he might actually listen. For a second, his expression flickered, like some small part of him was considering it.

Then it was gone.

"Stay out of this," he lectured, his voice dropping low and dangerous. "It's between your sister and I."

He turned back to Wren, and she immediately flinched. She knew what was coming. We all did.

My father has never cared about the real truth. If he thought it was true himself, then it must have happened that way, and anybody who dared to try to tell him he was wrong was punished. That was the rule in this house. That was the rule in this whole pack. You didn't question the Alpha. You didn't correct him. You didn't stand up for yourself, or for anyone else, unless you wanted to be made an example of.

SLAP.

The sound cracked through the room, sharp and awful, and I looked away, hating the whimper that came out of Wren's mouth as her back hit the wall behind her. She slid down a little, one hand pressed to her cheek, her whole body shaking as she tried not to cry too loudly, like crying louder would only make it worse.

"I'm sorry, Dad!" she cried, her voice breaking. "I didn't do anything, I swear, I'm sorry!"

He growled, low in his throat, and motioned for her to go to her room. Of course she obeyed. She didn't argue, she didn't hesitate, she just ran. Her footsteps thundered up the stairs, her bedroom door slamming shut a second later.

I stood there for a moment, my stomach twisted into knots, my fists clenched so tight my nails were digging into my palms. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him how wrong this was, how cruel he was being, how this wasn't what an Alpha was supposed to be.

Instead, I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge and shaking my head as he poured himself a cup of bitter coffee like nothing had just happened. Like he hadn't just hit his sixteen-year-old daughter for something she didn't even do.

"That make you feel like a proud Alpha?" I asked, unable to stop myself. "Slapping your kids around? Assuming they are guilty just because you say they are?"

He glared at me over the rim of his mug, his eyes dark and warning.

"I am an Alpha, Runa," he growled. "You have no place to speak to me like this. Watch your tongue and remember your place, before I'm forced to remind you."

I scoffed and stormed upstairs, back to my room, my protein shake still unopened in my hand. My whole body was trembling with anger by the time I shut my door behind me, leaning back against it and closing my eyes.

This shouldn't be normal. An Alpha shouldn't be cruel to anyone, especially not his own children. An Alpha was supposed to protect his pack, not terrorize them. He was supposed to listen, to be fair, to actually care about the truth.

My mother knows that as well, but of course she is too terrified to defend any of us, or the pack. I've watched her stay silent my entire life. I've watched her look away, bite her lip, and pretend she didn't hear it, because speaking up would only put her in his line of fire next.

"You should really learn to bite your tongue," Kael mocked, standing in my doorway with his arms crossed, a smug little smirk on his face like he'd just watched something entertaining.

Of course he was there. Of course he was enjoying this.

"Go away, Kael," I scowled, not even looking at him as I set my shake down on my dresser.

He only laughed, that low, taunting laugh that made my skin crawl. I hate my big brother. I hate the way he stands there and acts like he's better than all of us, just because Dad favors him. Just because he's the heir.

"Why should I?" he said, stepping a little further into my room even though I told him to leave. "Maybe I should help Dad by reminding you that you are nothing but a weak wolf who will never mean anything in life."

I bit my bottom lip hard to keep from snapping back at him. He wanted a reaction. He always wanted a reaction, because a reaction meant Dad would hear us fighting and come up here, and then it would be my fault again. It was always my fault.

"Kael, go see what your father needs help with today," my mother said from behind him, her voice soft but firm enough to make him pause.

He rolled his eyes and walked downstairs, muttering something under his breath that I didn't bother trying to hear.

"Sweetheart..." she whispered, stepping into the doorway where he'd just been standing.

I turned away from her, staring at the wall instead of at her face. I didn't want to see the guilt in her eyes. I didn't want to hear another empty apology.

"Nothing you say matters, Mom," I whispered out, my voice barely above a breath. "Not like you ever defend me anyways."

I waited to hear her walk away before I got up and got ready for the day, pulling on jeans and a soft sweater, brushing out my light brown hair, trying to make myself look like a normal twenty-year-old girl getting ready for a normal day, instead of someone who had just watched her little sister get hit for nothing.

After I finished getting dressed, I slowly opened Wren's door to find her on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest and crying still. Her cheek was still red, her eyes puffy and swollen, and she looked so small curled up like that.

"Hey, sis," I greeted softly as I sat across from her on the edge of her bed.

"He is so mean," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. "I didn't even do anything. I don't even have a reason to sneak out."

I took her hand and gave it a supportive squeeze, trying to be the comfort for her that no one had ever really been for me.

"He has always been like this, sadly," I said quietly. "Just... do your best to not let it bring you down."

She just shrugged, wiping at her eyes with the back of her free hand, and I wished there was more I could do. I wished I had the right words, the perfect thing to say to make her feel safe, to make her believe that this wasn't all there was.

But I'm not sure what to say. I'm twenty years old, and I feel the same way as her. I have for years.

Trapped. Small. Afraid to speak, and punished when I do anyway.

And I don't know how much longer I can live like this.