Never Come Back

**Vanya**

Vance’s grip on my arm burned right through my thin shirt. The silence in the cramped room was suffocating. I stared up into his dark, storm-filled eyes, searching for the boy I used to know. Kaelen Vance. The name alone tasted like crushed wolfsbane on my tongue. If someone told me at eight years old that I would be accused of a suicide attempt, I would have laughed. And Kaelen would have punched them.

Looking at his hardened jaw now, the past rushed forward, a relentless tide I could not hold back.

We were not always enemies. I used to be carefree. Mischievous. I thrived on finding trouble, and Kaelen was always right there beside me, my best friend despite being two years older.

The memory of our prank hit me. Kaelen and I had stolen a heavy bucket of black ink from his father’s office. We balanced it on the top edge of Nanny Agatha’s door, leaving the wood cracked open just enough.

We hid around the corner, holding our breath. The door creaked open. A heavy splash echoed through the corridor, followed by a shocked gasp. A tidal wave of black ink rained down, coating Nanny Agatha’s gray-streaked hair and ruining her crisp white uniform.

Kaelen and I clamped our hands over our mouths to stifle our laughter. Then, a long, imposing shadow fell over us. Our amusement died instantly. We turned around.

Alpha Alaric Vance loomed over us, his massive arms folded across his chest. He looked down at us.

"Father," Kaelen squeaked, his voice cracking.

Alpha Alaric shifted his gaze between us. "So," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Whose idea was this?"

I jumped forward without thinking. "Mine!" I blurted out. I needed to protect Kaelen from his father’s wrath. I had never seen the Alpha look so stern.

Alaric raised a single brow. He turned his attention to his son. "Kaelen?"

Kaelen stepped right in front of me, squaring his small shoulders. "It was mine," he said, blowing out a long breath.

"I thought so." Alaric turned toward the dripping nanny. "You can go get yourself cleaned up, Mrs. Jones. I will handle these two."

A loud chortle echoed down the hall. My father, Silas, came striding toward us, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye.

"Alaric, did you see?!" my father roared with laughter. "The two little miscreants got ink all over Agatha! Remember when we put worms in Nanny Mabel’s bed? I swear these two are almost rising to our level of genius—"

Alaric let out a sharp cough as my father approached, shooting him a warning look. "Silas. I was just thinking of how to punish our two miscreants right now."

My father froze. He coughed loudly, dropping the smile and plastering on a stern frown. "Yes, of course. Of course. Punishment." He cleared his throat, glaring down at me with twinkling eyes. "It is bad, this young lady. Very, very bad."

The warmth of that memory twisted into a jagged blade in my chest. Everything changed after that night. The laughter died. The warmth vanished. Life became a living hell for the daughter of a traitor. I stopped believing in a lot of things after my father’s downfall, but I believed one thing with certainty. I did not deserve forgiveness.

The warmth shattered, replaced by the freezing courtyard. The day they sent us to the Outcasts' Cave played out behind my eyes in brutal detail.

I stood in a long line of the condemned. Everyone around me looked hollow, pale, and stripped of hope. Heavy iron chains shackled our feet, scraping against the cobblestones with every shuffling step. I kept my chin tucked, staring at the mud.

Then, I saw him.

Kaelen stood near the front of the crowd, flanked by his mother. He wore all black. The mischievous boy was gone. He looked fierce, intense, aging a decade in a single night. I felt the physical weight of his stare burning into the side of my face. I stiffened my spine, looked straight ahead, and pretended the boy staring at me was a stranger.

A sudden gasp tore through the quiet courtyard. It was Luna, Kaelen's mother.

Kaelen wrenched himself free from her grip. His boots pounded against the wet stones as he sprinted toward the traitors' line. Toward me.

"Move! Now!" his mother shrieked, her voice frantic and hysterical. "Put all those traitors into the Cave!"

The guards flinched. They drew their weapons and began shoving the line forward, barking orders to move faster. Kaelen slammed into the crowd, shoving grown wolves aside, frantic to reach the line.

The devastation in his eyes broke something inside me. He looked at me like I was vanishing from the earth. And I was. They were sending me to the dirt, banishing me from the only life I knew, stripping away our shared past. What was the point of him chasing a traitor’s daughter? Our bond was dead. I was nothing now. Pathetic, Vanya. Just pathetic.

He lunged forward, stretching his hand through the gap between two guards. His fingers brushed my skin. He caught my wrist, his grip desperate and tight.

Instinct took over. A reaction born from agonizing heartbreak. I ripped my arm away. I slapped his hand back with as much force as I could muster.

The last thing I saw before the guards shoved me down the dark path was Kaelen’s face. His eyes widened in sheer, visceral pain.

***

My focus snapped back to the present. The harsh lighting of the dormitory chased the shadows away. Vance still gripped my arm, but the boy with the heartbroken eyes was dead. Only the Alpha remained.

He released my arm, giving me a rough shove away from my canvas bag. I stumbled back, my brow furrowing in confusion. The two omegas pushed past me into the tiny room. They ignored me, opening drawers and grabbing my meager belongings.

"Excuse me," I muttered, trying to step between them and my dresser.

The butler blocked my path with a sneer. Vance kept his piercing stare locked on my face.

"Alpha. What is..." I started, the dread pooling thick and heavy in my stomach. He could not exile me tonight. He just could not. I had not found the evidence I needed. I had not cleared my father's name.

Vance crossed his arms, mirroring the stance his father took all those years ago. "You will eat, live, and work by my side until the Rejection Ceremony takes place in a week."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "Wh—?" I stuttered, my mind racing.

"I will not have the Moon Goddess frown upon me or this pack because you take your own life before I can properly reject you," he stated. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as if dictating a minor schedule change.

I stared at him. Live with him? In the packhouse?

The shock faded into a sharp spark of calculation. If I moved into the packhouse, I would bypass the border patrols. I would be inside the main territory. I would be mere steps away from Vance’s private office, the exact place where they kept the confidential files on pack traitors. This was not a punishment. This was the key I had been waiting for.

I masked my hope, watching the maids. They were stripping the room bare. They packed my worn shirts, my brush, and even the frayed blanket from my cot. They were taking everything.

"Alpha," I said, keeping my tone submissive but steady. "I only need a suitcase. I am coming back here after the ceremony, after all."

I emphasized the words, testing his reaction. If he planned to let me stay in the pack after the rejection, he would agree.

Silence descended on the cramped room. The air grew thick, heavy with unspoken threats. I watched Vance's eyes. The emotion in them shifted, hardening into something dark and unreadable. A deep chill traced its way down my spine.

He looked down at me, his expression carved from ice.

"You are not coming back here again."