My life

Who am i

MICAS POV

She was crying so hard she could barely breathe.

The sound of it tore at something deep inside me, something raw and feral. I tried to calm her, tried to speak softly, to ground her, but my words never reached her. Her sobs were too loud, too broken, like they were clawing their way out of her chest whether she wanted them to or not.

I didn't hesitate.

I lifted her into my arms, her body trembling violently against mine, and carried her back to our room. She clung to me instinctively, fingers digging into my shirt like I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. I sat down on the bed with her in my lap, holding her close, rocking slightly the way you do when words fail.

For a long time, all she did was cry.

I kept my arms locked around her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other pressing firmly against her spine. I needed her to feel me. Needed her to know she wasn't alone in this, even if she couldn't hear anything else.

Slowly so slowly her sobs began to quiet. The sharp, panicked gasps softened into shaky breaths. Her body sagged against mine, exhausted by the weight of everything she'd just learned.

After a few minutes, she finally looked up at me.

Her eyes were red and swollen, her face blotchy and wet, but what broke me was the emptiness behind them.

"Mica..." her voice was barely a whisper. "Who am I?"

The question hit harder than any blow ever could.

So I told her.

I told her everything.

I spoke slowly, carefully, choosing each word like it might either save her or shatter her completely.

I told her about the Blood Lust pack. About how they weren't monsters, despite the name just powerful, fiercely loyal wolves who protected their own at all costs. I told her how strong they were. How respected. How feared.

I told her about the attack.

About the witches.

About the night everything burned.

I explained how two of the weakest witches had been ordered to kill her while stronger ones slaughtered her parents. How those two witches took one look at her tiny, helpless, innocent and couldn't do it. How something in them broke instead. How they chose her over everything they'd ever known.

I told her how they used every ounce of magic they had left to save her. To hide her. To erase her scent. To sever her connection to her wolf with wolfsbane so deep it became part of her blood. I told her they loved her truly loved her at first.

And then I told her the part that made my voice shake.

How they got pregnant.

How resentment grew.

How they realized they'd sacrificed everything for a child that wasn't theirs by blood when they could have had their own.

How fear kept them from letting her go.

How cruelty became their solution.

"They hurt you," I said quietly, rage vibrating beneath every word. "Not because you were weak. But because they were afraid of what you are. Afraid of what would happen if the truth ever came out."

She lifted her hand then, shaking, palm out.

"Stop," she whispered. "Please... I can't. I can't hear anymore."

I stopped instantly.

Her breathing was shallow, her eyes unfocused, like she was barely still in the room with me.

"I just want to sleep," she said.

So I laid her down gently, pulling the blankets around her, climbing in beside her without hesitation. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her the way I would if the world was ending. I traced slow, steady circles on her back, grounding her body when her mind couldn't.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.

But I didn't.

---

GENEVIEVE (ERIKA) POV

I woke up drenched in sweat.

My skin felt too tight, too hot, like something inside me was trying to claw its way out. My heart was racing before I even opened my eyes, panic already gripping my chest.

I reached out instinctively.

Mica wasn't there.

That alone made my throat tighten painfully. I pushed myself upright, my head pounding, my body heavy and sore. My eyes burned when I blinked, swollen and puffy from crying so much it felt like my tears had never really stopped.

I was exhausted.

Every time I fell asleep, I was back there. Back in that house. Back in those rooms. Hearing voices. Feeling hands. Being small and powerless all over again.

The last nightmare snapped me awake so violently that my hands were shaking.

I knew then I wasn't going back to sleep.

I sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest. My head was full of too many truths, all crashing into each other at once.

My family wasn't my family.

They loved me, until they didn't.

They chose me, until I wasn't convenient anymore.

What was so wrong with me that people could love me and then decide I wasn't worth it?

I stared down at my hands, feeling hollow.

Mica said I was strong.

But I didn't feel strong.

I felt broken. Confused. Used up.

Strong people don't let others hurt them for years.
Strong people don't survive by disappearing.
Strong people don't wake up wishing they didn't exist.

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe I wasn't a wolf.
Maybe I wasn't powerful.
Maybe I was just... worthless.

The thought settled in my chest like a stone, heavy and suffocating, as I sat there alone in the quiet, unsure of who or what I was supposed to be now.