Chapter 2

Present Day

The first thing she felt was quiet. No screaming. No smoke. No fire.

Just silence.

Nora opened her eyes slowly. Morning breeze slipped through the curtains of her bedroom, resting on her body coldly. For a second she didn’t move. She lay there staring at the ceiling, letting the dream fade.

It had been years. And still the fire hasn’t left her.

She turned her head toward the window. The Thorn estate stood tall and untouched beyond the glass. Clean lines. White stone. Security at every gate.

Nothing like the house she remembered.

Marcus had rebuilt everything.He said it was important to move forward.

Nora pushed herself up and sat on the edge of the bed. The room was large, but she always felt small in it. Too much space. Too much quiet.

She pressed her hand lightly against her chest.

Nothing. No heat. No pulse of instinct. Nothing.

At her age, every Alpha heir should have awakened fully. It usually happened before eighteen. A shift. A moment when power felt undeniable.

She was twenty-two. And she still felt human.

People never said it directly. They didn’t need to. The silence around it was loud enough.

She stood and walked to the mirror. Her reflection stared back calmly. Her dark hair loosen over her shoulders. Sharp eyes. Composed posture.

She looked like an Alpha. She just didn’t feel like one.

A knock came at the door.

“Nora ?” The voice was gentle, steady as always. “Breakfast is ready.”

She inhaled slowly before answering. “I’m coming.”

By the time she stepped into the dining room, Marcus was already seated at the head of the table. He looked the same as he always did pressed suit, calm expression, warm eyes.

He smiled when he saw her.

“You didn’t sleep well.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m fine,” she said, taking her seat.

He studied her for a second, then poured her coffee himself. He always did that. Small things. Attentive things.

You have the foundation meeting at eleven, he reminded her. And the press briefing at four.

She nodded.

He never treated her like a child. But he never treated her like an Alpha either.

“How are you feeling?” he asked casually.

She knew what he meant. He didn’t say the word shift. He never did.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. Marcus leaned back slightly.

“Power comes differently to everyone. Don’t rush yourself.” She forced a small smile. He always said that.

After breakfast, she walked through the halls alone. Staff moved quietly around her. They bowed their heads respectfully.

Respect for her name. Not her strength.

Outside, the air was cool. She moved toward the private training grounds behind the estate. The space was open, surrounded by high fencing and tall trees beyond.

No one else was there. She stepped into the center and closed her eyes. Focus.

Every Alpha described the awakening the same way. Heat in the blood. Pressure in the bones. A pull toward something larger. She tried to feel it.

She pushed. Nothing. Her breathing grew heavier. Frustration crept up her spine.

“Come on,” she muttered under her breath.

Still nothing. Just her heartbeat. Normal. Steady. Human.

She opened her eyes sharply and stepped back. It felt like knocking on a locked door. The worst part wasn’t weakness. It was doubt.

What if something was wrong with her? She turned when she felt eyes on her. Marcus stood at the edge of the training field. He hadn’t made a sound.

“I told you not to push yourself,” he said gently. She stiffened slightly. “I wasn’t pushing.”

He walked closer, slow, counting steps. “You don’t need to prove anything.”

His hand rested briefly on her shoulder.

Warmly.

“You are Thornston,” he continued. “That is enough.” For a moment, she let herself believe him. He had stayed.

He had rebuilt everything. He had protected her when no one else did. If he wasn’t worried, maybe she shouldn’t be either. She looked up at him.

“Did you ever think… maybe I won’t?”

His expression softened.

“You will,” he said without hesitation. “And when you do, it will be stronger than anyone expects.”

He spoke with such certainty that it settled her. Almost.

Later that afternoon, while scrolling through old media archives for her foundation project, an article caught her attention.

The headline was from years ago. Thornston Estate Destroyed in Alleged Pack Attack.

She had read it before. But today, something felt different.

She opened it. The details were the same. Fire. Fatalities. No survivors besides the child.

But one line made her pause. Official time of breach: 11:48 pm.

She frowned slightly. That wasn’t how she remembered it. In her mind, it had felt earlier. Louder, closer.

She leaned back in her chair. Memory was strange like that, she told herself.

Trauma blurred things.

Still.

A small unease settled in her chest.

That night, standing on her balcony, she looked over the city lights.

She should have felt powerful.

Instead, she felt like something was missing.

Somewhere deep inside her, behind walls she couldn’t see, something pressed faintly.

Like it was waiting.

And for the first time in years, she wondered:

Was it really a weakness? Or was it silence?