The Alphas Sister (Complete)

Chapter Seven: Paws, Past, and Perilous Lines

A few days after Shane's banishment, I got hauled into the pack psychologist's office, the council's "anger management" sentence kicking in faster than I'd hoped. 

The room was tucked off the main hall, a cosy nook that smelled faintly of lavender and old books. Dr. Ellis waited inside, a lovely woman in her late forties with silver streaks in her auburn hair and a warm smile that hadn't changed since I was a kid. 

I'd seen her a handful of times back then, after my parents died at six, shredded by rogues, and after I got caught swiping bread and a dagger at eight. Her hazel eyes always gentle, never judging. I stepped in, flashing a small smile, and she returned it as I shut the door with a soft click and sank into the plush armchair across from her desk.

She picked up a pen and clipboard, her movements practiced, and looked at me over her glasses. "Long time no see," she said, her smile widening, a hint of teasing in her tone.

"Yeah, I was trying my best not to end up back here," I said, smirking faintly, leaning back to mask the unease prickling my spine. Last time I'd sat here, I'd been a scrawny kid, sullen and silent, not the beta I was now, benched and leashed by the council's ruling.

She scribbled something, her pen scratching against the paper. "Are you upset with yourself for ending up in a position where you're back here?" Her voice was curious, her expression soft but probing as she tilted her head.

I paused, staring at the faded rug under my boots, its swirling greens and blues blurring as I thought. "I wouldn't say upset," I finally said, shrugging. Feelings weren't my thing, never had been. Talking about them felt like peeling back my skin, and I'd rather take a rogue's claws than that.

Dr. Ellis nodded, jotting another note. "So, Kyan, you've been having issues with anger?" It came out more like a statement than a question, her eyes flicking to the clipboard as she wrote, barely glancing my way.

"No," I said, crossing my arms tight across my chest, the fabric of my dark green shirt pulling against my shoulders. Defensive, maybe, but I wasn't about to spill my guts.

She looked up, hazel eyes locking onto mine, one eyebrow arching in that way that said she wasn't buying it. "Then what are you doing here?" She tapped her pen against the clipboard, then resumed writing, the sound a quiet taunt.

I leaned forward, elbows digging into my thighs, and stared at my hands, knuckles still faintly bruised from Shane's jaw three nights ago. "It's not like I wanted this," I said, my voice low, nerves twitching under my skin. "He was hurting Diana, and I got angry. That's it."

She lifted her gaze again, steady and unblinking. "So, do you still have feelings for her?" The question landed like a stone, calm but heavy.

Frustration flared, hot and sharp. "I never had feelings for her in a relationship way," I snapped, louder than I meant. "It was purely sex, done and dusted. We're just friends now. I have trouble getting close to people, okay?" My hands clenched, nails biting into my palms, the memory of Diana's bruised face and pregnant scent from the cell still raw.

Her lips curved into a half-smile, not pitying, just... knowing. "Would you like to elaborate?" she asked, softening her tone. "You don't have to if you're not ready.

"I slumped back, arms crossing again, a wall slamming up inside me. My past, Mom and Dad gone at six, me alone, stealing at eight, was a locked box, rusted shut. Shauna was the only one I'd ever felt comfortable telling, late nights after patrols over too many beers, her hazel eyes soft with understanding and care as I'd spilled the mess of losing my folks. I wasn't cracking it open here. "Not really," I muttered, turning my head to stare at the bookshelf, its spines worn and faded.