Ghosts of the Past

Kallie Siobhan Faye's POV

The heavy wooden door snapped shut behind him with a resounding thud. Silence rushed in to fill the massive space. I stood alone in the center of the lavish room. A harsh, bitter scoff escaped my lips, echoing off the high, frescoed ceilings above me. I walked over to the grand four-poster bed and stared down at the silken sheets.

This situation was a joke. A ridiculous, twisted joke. The very mate who threw me away five years ago now wanted me back. He rejected me in front of everyone. He tossed me out because he thought I was just a weak, useless human. Now he used threats and brute force to lock me in his fortress.

I paced the plush carpet. My chest tightened with familiar anger. He actually thought he could just claim me back after the humiliation he put me through. If he truly believed I was still just a human, then he was a heartless monster for treating his supposed soulmate this way.

A soft, hesitant knock on the heavy door interrupted my dark thoughts.

The door slowly creaked open. Three young women quietly filed into the room. Their arms were burdened with the meager belongings I had brought with me. They moved with synchronized, nervous grace. As soon as they crossed the threshold, all three immediately dropped into deep, respectful bows.

"We are pleased to meet you, Queen," the blonde one said. Her voice trembled slightly.

The title sent a sharp spike of discomfort straight through my chest. Queen. The word felt wrong. It tasted like poison on my tongue after years of banishment. I just stood there for a moment, staring at them. They kept their heads lowered, too afraid to meet my gaze.

"The King is quite busy right now," the blonde girl continued, sensing my silence. "He ordered us to assist you. He said he would meet you when he returned."

I let out a slow breath. I forced my posture to relax and offered them a curt but genuine smile. "Okay. But you don't need to assist me with everything. Maybe you can just help me arrange my things?"

They blinked in surprise. The nervous tension in their shoulders eased a fraction.

The girl with dark, expressive eyes nodded. "Of course, Queen."

"It's our pleasure, Queen," the blonde added.

"No problem," the third girl said. She had rich brown hair and warm eyes.

They were all young, beautiful, and clearly terrified of stepping out of line.

"Great," I said. "But I want to know your names before we start unpacking."

The blonde girl spoke first. "I'm Evelyn. You can call me Eve."

"I'm Valerie. Val for short," the dark-haired girl said.

"Cleo," the brown-eyed girl introduced herself with a shy smile.

Eve, Val, and Cleo. I committed their names to memory.

"I'm Kallie Siobhan Faye Ironwood. You guys can call me Kal."

The three of them exchanged panicked looks. They vigorously shook their heads.

"We can't call you by your name," Val said, her voice dropping to a frantic whisper. "You're our Luna. The Queen. We need to respect you."

I chuckled. A dry, humorless sound. Calling me a title didn't equal respect.

"We're all the same here," I instructed them gently. "No superiors or inferiors. I want you all to treat me the same. No special treatment just because I'm your king's mate."

The three young women froze. Their mouths parted in shock. They clearly weren't used to this kind of treatment from high-ranking wolves. High-ranking wolves demanded submission. I demanded equality.

"You're such a sweetheart," Eve whispered, touched by my blunt sincerity. "You deserve to be our queen."

A hollow ache settled in my ribs. Did I? The king they worshipped had publicly thrown me away. But I kept that bitter truth to myself. This was the first time since crossing the border into this hostile territory that I felt safe. I felt unjudged.

"Don't be fooled," I joked, keeping my tone light. "I might be evil on the inside."

Cleo giggled, playing along. "Oh, we are so scared, Queen."

We shared a brief, warm laugh. The ice in the room melted. "Let's get to work," I said. "I think we're going to get along just fine."

We spent the next half hour sorting through my clothes. The maids moved efficiently, folding and hanging my garments in the massive walk-in closet. I worked right alongside them. I wanted to keep the conversation flowing. I needed information about the people living in this fortress.

I feigned casual curiosity. I picked up a folded shirt and smoothed the fabric. "So, do you guys see the Royal Beta's mate often? Briar? She used to be a friend of mine."

The maids' faces lit up at the mention of her. Palace gossip was clearly a welcome distraction.

"Miss Briar visited her hometown last week," Val said, taking the shirt from my hands. "She should be coming back today or tomorrow."

So she was away. That explained why I hadn't spotted her during my forced march into the palace.

"How is she doing?" I asked. My voice held a tremor I couldn't quite hide.

"We don't see her often, but she is doing wonderful," Cleo chimed in. "She is raising a very energetic three-year-old son. And she is happily pregnant with her second child!"

My hands stilled. Pregnant again. A three-year-old son. Briar had built a beautiful life, a family, a home. She had moved on. Five years of her life had happened without me.

"Why did you ask about her, Queen?" Val tilted her head, her dark eyes filled with innocent curiosity.

I gave them a sad, tight-lipped smile. "I know her. We used to be best friends."

Eve gasped, dropping a pair of jeans on the bed. "Really? You and Miss Briar?"

"Yes. We were very close."

Cleo leaned in, her eyes wide with wonder. "The Royal Beta's mate and the Alpha King's mate were best friends? That is amazing!"

A sharp, phantom pain struck my chest. The memory clawed its way to the front of my mind. A bloody, agonizing flashback. The King standing on the dais. The cruel words of rejection falling from his lips. The sharp, stinging slap across my face. Briar screaming my name in the crowd. The brutal royal guards dragging me through the dirt. They threw me out of the territory like garbage.

"If you were so close," Val asked softly, pulling me back to the present, "why did you ever lose touch? Why did you part ways?"

I swallowed the thick lump forming in my throat. I stared down at my empty hands. I couldn't tell them the truth. I couldn't tell them their beloved king had destroyed my life.

"It's a long story," I murmured.

The girls caught the shift in my tone. Their smiles faded into sympathetic nods. They understood pain, even if they didn't know the source. They didn't push for more details.

Once the wardrobe was organized, the maids politely bowed out. "You're always welcome, Queen," they chorused before slipping through the heavy doors.

I was alone again.

I retreated into the attached marble bathroom. The space was enormous. It featured a deep, clawfoot tub and polished gold fixtures. I turned the ornate handles, letting the hot water rush into the basin.

I stripped off my travel-stained clothes. I stepped into the scalding water. I needed to wash away the scent of the King's car. I needed to wash away the memory of his heavy, suffocating aura. I grabbed a sea sponge and scrubbed my skin until it turned pink and raw.

The heat seeped into my aching muscles. I closed my eyes and let the steam fill my lungs.

Half an hour later, I stepped out. I dried off and opened my newly organized closet. I chose a simple, flowing pale blue dress. It reached just above my knees. It was modest but comfortable. I combed the tangles out of my damp hair and stared at my reflection in the massive mirror.

I couldn't just stay cooped up in this room. I refused to be a prisoner waiting for her jailer.

I needed to memorize the palace layout. I opened my bedroom door and stepped out into the wide, echoing corridors. The sheer scale of the fortress was intimidating. Intricate tapestries hung on the stone walls. Thick, woven carpets muffled my footsteps.

Every time I passed a palace servant, they stopped and lowered their heads in deep submission. I ignored them, keeping my eyes fixed forward.

I navigated through endless, winding wings. I turned corner after corner until the dim hallway suddenly opened up. I found myself stepping onto a quiet, sun-drenched stone terrace. It was located on the second floor, overlooking the lush, sprawling estate gardens below.

The peaceful, rustling breeze hit my face. It was pure heaven. I closed my eyes, letting the cool air caress my warm skin. For a fleeting second, my heart felt peaceful. The tension bled out of my shoulders.

Then, the serene silence broke.

"Who are you?"

The tiny, high-pitched, innocent voice came from right behind me.

I spun around. Standing just a few feet away was a toddler. He was maybe three or four years old. He had incredibly adorable, chubby cheeks and a mop of messy brown hair. He wore a tiny pair of overalls. He stared up at me with huge, curious eyes. There was no hint of stranger danger in his gaze.

I instantly melted. I smiled and crouched down, bringing myself to his eye level.

"Hey there, kiddo," I greeted softly.

"Hello," he chirped back.

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" I asked.

He puffed out his small chest. He cheerfully announced, "I'm looking for my daddy!"

"Oh? Who is your daddy?"

The boy paused. He tapped a tiny finger against his chin, seeming to consider his words.

"It's okay," I said gently. "You don't have to tell me."

His serious expression broke into a bubbly, bright smile. "You're so pretty. Who are you?"

The pure charm of this kid was undeniable. My smile widened. "My name is Kallie Siobhan Faye. But you can call me Aunt Siobhan. Or just Kal."

"Your name is pretty. Like you," he complimented smoothly.

I let out a genuine laugh. "Thank you. And what about you? What's your name?"

He stood a little taller. "My name is Rowan Evander. But everyone calls me Row."

The exact arrangement of those names caught me off guard. It hit me like a physical punch to the gut. The breath rushed out of my lungs. The world around me seemed to tilt on its axis.

A bittersweet, vivid memory flooded my mind.

Five years ago.

Sunlight poured through the single window of our tiny apartment. Briar and I were sitting cross-legged on the faded carpet. We were laughing over mugs of cheap coffee.

"Kal, I have a question," Briar had said, bumping her shoulder against mine.

"What is it?"

"If you had a boy, what would you name him?"

I had chuckled at the random thought. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Just answer the question, Kal!" she demanded playfully.

I thought about it for a moment. I pictured a little boy with bright eyes. "I think... I'd name him Rowan Evander."

Briar's eyes lit up. "Oh, that is a nice name! I like Griffin or Logan. But you know what? If I ever have a son first, I'm stealing Rowan Evander."

She shoved my shoulder, laughing as I tried to protest. "You can't steal my baby name!"

"Watch me!" she had promised vehemently.

"Aunty?"

The high-pitched voice snapped me back to reality.

I blinked, my vision swimming slightly. Little Rowan was staring at me with a pout on his lips. "You're spacing out," he observed.

I swallowed hard, forcing the heavy wave of nostalgia back down. I pasted a bright smile back onto my face.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Did I miss something?"

"Why did you go quiet?" he asked, his brow furrowing. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no, not at all." I reached out and gently took his warm, tiny hand in mine. "I just remembered something. You have a very wonderful name, Row."

"My mommy picked it," he said proudly. "She said she liked it because her friend liked it."

Another fresh ache bloomed in my chest. Her friend. She had remembered. Even after I vanished, she kept my name.

"Come on," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "Let's go find your daddy. We'll navigate this big maze together."

"Really?"

"I promise."

I stood up, keeping a firm but gentle grip on his hand. We turned away from the sunny terrace and headed back into the grand, echoing hallway. Rowan chattered happily beside me. He told me his dad was very tall and very handsome. His boots made little tapping sounds on the stone floor where the carpet ended.

We barely made it down the first long corridor.

"Row, Honey!"

The sharply familiar, panicked voice rang out through the hall. It bounced off the high walls, striking my ears with harsh clarity.

Rowan immediately dropped my hand. His face lit up with pure joy. "Mommy!" he squealed.

He rushed forward, his little legs pumping fast.

I froze. My boots rooted themselves to the intricate carpet. My breathing stopped.

Approaching from the opposite end of the wide hall were two women. I didn't recognize the one on the left. But the woman on the right...

It was Briar.

Her hair was much longer now, cascading down her back in loose waves. Her posture was more mature, carrying the grace of a mother and a Royal Beta's mate. But it was undoubtedly her. My best friend.

"Mommy, look at who I just met!" Rowan excitedly tugged on the hem of her flowing skirt. "She's so pretty!"

Briar knelt down. She gently grabbed his small shoulders. "Why did you wander off alone again? I told you that you would get lost in this massive place." She scolded him softly, brushing the messy hair from his forehead.

"I'm sorry," Rowan pouted, perfecting his baby-dog eyes. "I just wanted to find Daddy."

Briar let out a long sigh and kissed his cheek. "Don't do it again."

She finally stood up. She smoothed down her skirt and lifted her head to look at the stranger who had helped her son.

Her eyes locked onto mine.

The color drained from her face in a single heartbeat.

Briar stood there, stunned. Her breath hitched audibly in the quiet hallway. She remained rooted to the spot, staring at me as if a ghost had just materialized from the stone walls.

Seconds ticked by in agonizing silence. The tension stretching between us was thick and suffocating. I searched her familiar features. Beneath the raw, profound shock widening her eyes, other emotions began to surface. I saw a deep, lingering surge of pain. And right behind it, a sharp, bitter edge of anger.

She blamed me. She thought I had abandoned her. She thought I had disappeared into the night five years ago without a single word of goodbye. She had no idea about the brutal reality. She didn't know I couldn't fight back against the royal guards. She didn't know her own King had ordered them to drag me away and throw me out like trash.

My heart pounded painfully against my ribs. The silence was deafening.

I forced my heavy legs to move. I took one slow, hesitant step closer to her.

"Hey..."