Chapter 2

Aspen POV:

"Aspen? Are you... are you awake in there?"

The voice outside the door was hesitant, strained with a desperate kind of caution. It was Brenda Hayes, my mother-in-law.

I took a steadying breath, smoothed down the front of my linen skirt, and gripped the brass door handle.

I pulled the door open.

The dim light of the hallway revealed Brenda standing on the threshold. She was wearing a faded floral apron over her wool dress, her rough, work-worn hands wringing the cloth into tight knots. Her steel-gray eyes were bloodshot, wide with an expectation of hysteria.

She had clearly spent the entire night bracing herself for screaming, shattered plates, and another suicide attempt from the unwilling bride.

I stood straight before her, meeting her gaze with absolute stillness.

Brenda parted her lips, blinking in sheer disbelief as she took in my neatly pinned hair and composed expression.

"Good morning, Mother," I said calmly.

Brenda flinched as if I had struck her. "M-Mother?"

Her eyes darted nervously past my shoulder, checking the shadowed bed behind me to see if Kael was still breathing.

I stepped slightly to the side, letting her see the bed clearly. Kael remained motionless under the quilt, his chest rising and falling in heavy, rhythmic intervals.

"Kael is still resting," I explained in a quiet, even tone. "He seemed to be in a lot of pain through the night, so I didn't want to disturb him."

Brenda's eyes rimmed with sudden red. Her trembling hands slowly released the apron, hovering in the air between us before she forced them back down to her sides.

"You... you aren't angry with us? You really don't want to..." Her voice cracked, weighed down by the guilt of having purchased a substitute bride from the White family.

"The Moon Goddess brought me to this house," I said smoothly, using the highest law of our people to dismantle her doubts. "This is where I belong."

Brenda let out a ragged breath that sounded like a sob. She quickly wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her rough hand.

"Good. Good girl," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I made some corn porridge down in the kitchen. Go down and get something in your stomach."

"Thank you, Mother."

I pulled the bedroom door shut, sealing Kael's scent inside, and turned toward the stairs.

The narrow hallway smelled of aged timber and wolf grease. Old hunting crests hung along the walls, remnants of the Beta line's former standing in the border territory before Kael's injury drained their resources.

Halfway down the stairs, I nearly collided with Harrell Campbell.

My father-in-law stood at the foot of the steps in worn leather overalls. He was a broad, grizzled man, his dark brown wolf eyes hardened by decades of border patrols.

The moment he saw me walking down alone, his thick brows slammed together. His right hand dropped instinctively toward the heavy leather belt at his waist, his frame locking into an aggressive stance.

He expected me to bolt for the front door.

I did not stop or flinch. I walked down the final two steps, stopped at a respectful distance, and inclined my head.

"Good morning, Father."

Harrell froze. His piercing gaze raked over me, searching for panic, deceit, or defiance.

He found none of it. My pulse remained steady, my scent devoid of fear.

Slowly, the tension left his broad shoulders, though his expression remained stern.

"Morning," he grunted, the sound vibrating low in his chest as he stepped aside to clear the way.

I gathered my skirt slightly and walked past him toward the kitchen.

Before I could reach the doorway, the harsh clatter of an iron spoon against a ceramic bowl echoed from the dining table, accompanied by a sharp, sneering laugh.