Family's Regret After She Kneels

Aurora's POV

The heavy iron gate of the werewolf psychiatric facility clanged shut behind me like a final insult.

I stepped out into the blinding daylight on a broken leg, limping past the ward where my screams had once echoed for some nights.

Every movement ached. The brace on my knee scratched against raw skin. My hospital slippers, soaked from fog, slapped wetly on the stone steps.

And there he was.

Alpha Keith.

My brother, leaning against a sleek black sedan with his arms folded, eyes sharp and cold.

He looked me over with open disdain, his jaw clenched as he was here to pick me up and looking at me like I was already a burden he couldn't wait to drop off.

"So, you're still pretending to be weak?" he muttered as I staggered forward, his words coated in sarcasm.

I didn't respond. I had learned in that place, among padded walls and needle-proud doctors, that silence is the only dignity a caged wolf has left.

He stepped toward me, hand extended to help me, and I instinctively refused. His scent, familiar, like pinewood, sharp and threatening. His hand dropped awkwardly, his frown deepening.

I was born to Alpha blood, the daughter of the previous alpha, Frank Donald, respected Alpha of the silver moon pack.

I was meant to carry strength in my blood and fire in my bones.

But the day my mother gave birth to my baby brother, only for him to take his last breath hours later, the mourning howls turned into whispers.

They didn't just grieve his death. They blamed me for it.

They said I brought misfortune. That the Moon Goddess had marked me with darkness. I was just a toddler, barely able to speak, yet the pack saw me as something cursed.

They casted me out. As soon as I could walk, like a cursed pup unworthy of their name.

Said it was for the good of the pack. But I remember. I remember the cold.

No warm hands. No lullabies. Just the silence of the forest and the growl of distant wolves that wouldn't let me near.

They called it "rogue training." I called it survival.

When I turned fifteen, the pack changed their tune. My parents suddenly took me back. They welcomed me back, cloaking their guilt in false smiles.

I wanted to believe it meant something. I tried to belong.

Especially with Keith.

He was my older brother. The one I looked up to. The one I wanted to make proud.

I still remember one night during training season. A storm had rolled in, and the pack house was filled with the scent of wet earth and lightning.

I ran barefoot through the rain, clutching a container of the meal I had cooked myself, hoping it would cheer him up after his long training with the elders.

I stood outside his training hall, shivering and soaked, waiting for him to come out. My wolf stirred nervously inside me, desperate for his approval.

When he finally appeared, he took the food from my hands without meeting my eyes. He didn't say a word. Not even a simple "thank you." He just walked past me, his Beta trainees following behind him.

I swallowed the ache rising in my throat. Every time I was ignored, every cold glance, I told myself it was fine. If I worked a little harder, if I stayed patient, one day my family would fully accept me.

But I was wrong.

Three years later, I stood in a courtroom being accused.

Keith stood before the elders, swearing under oath to defend Helen, the little she-wolf the pack welcomed into our home years ago.

But, without hesitation, Keith chose her over me, accusing me of a crime I hadn't even been there to commit.

His words were enough. It carried the weight of Pack Honor. I was accused of attempted murder.

They said I was mentally unstable, that I had always been dangerous.

And for five years, they kept me locked away like a rabid beast in a werewolf psychiatric hospital.

Now he stood here, frowning like I was being dramatic.

"Mom and Dad are waiting," he said. "They're throwing a party. It's a big deal that you're out."

I stared at him. My voice came out flat, but my heart pulsed with quiet rage. "What parents do I have?"

When I became a rogue, I used to dream, night after night, that if my parents ever took me back, they would hold me close like the Alpha's daughter I was born to be.

For more than ten years, through every cold night and lonely full moon, I clung to that hope.

And when I was fifteen, my wish finally came true. My werewolf parents brought me back into the pack. My Alpha father. My mother. My brother Keith.

But the one who was cherished wasn't me.

It was Helen, the little she-wolf they had raised since childhood, the illegitimate daughter my father had.

She received every gentle touch I had once longed for.

In that house, for three long years, I endured the cold gazes, the silent meals, the humiliations.

As my wolf remained trapped inside me, their warmth was always towards Helen.

I sneered inwardly. Those were not my parents. They were Keith and Helen's parents.

Knowing that I was never truly wanted, why should I return now, only to invite more humiliation?

My gaze hardened as I looked back at him.

He blinked.

I tilted my head slightly. "Helen's their daughter now. Isn't that what they decided the moment she called me a murderer?"

His mouth tightened.

I stood my ground, my body tense, refusing to take even a single step toward him.

Keith's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, voice cold and sharp.

"You think walking out of there all fragile and broken is going to make anyone forget what you did?" he said. "Vicky's still lying in that hospital bed because of you. You ruined her life."

His words hit like a blow, sharp and rehearsed.

He didn't stop there. His voice lowered, filled with growing annoyance.

"Don't forget, it was you who pushed Vicky down those stairs five years ago, leaving her in a vegetative state. And you even tried to frame Helen. After five years locked away, you still haven't repented. It seems your reform wasn't thorough enough."

His tone hardened, like a scolding Alpha disciplining a disobedient wolf.

"Don't think your five years in that hospital erased your guilt. Your debt won't be paid until Vicky wakes up."

He took another step, voice sharper.

"And you still owe Helen an apology."

When I didn't move fast enough, he reached for me, grabbing my wrist with the same commanding grip he used in training, like he could force obedience the way he used to.

"You're coming home," he growled through clenched teeth. "Get in the car. Don't make me say it again."

As if dragging me back could undo what he'd done.

When I look into his eyes now, all I see is the same disgust he wore that day in court.

The hope I once held for him had rotted into something hollow, and I no longer long for any warmth.

"I'm not going back," I said through clenched teeth.

I ripped my wrist free, stumbling back two steps on my injured leg. My body screamed, but I ignored it.

"Mr. Donald," I said, voice steady. "Please leave."

He froze. "What?"

"We're not family," I said, straightening. "We never were. I was naive to believe otherwise."

I turned.

I didn't want him to see the tears gathering in my eyes.

And then, as if the Moon Goddess herself wished to strike another wound before I could heal. I heard a very familiar voice call out to me.

"Aurora."

It sliced through the cold like a blade.

James.

The one person I swore I would never look back on.

The man who had once been my Fate Mate. My fate mate who I hadn't seen in five years, the man who let them tear me apart.

I stopped mid-step, my blood turning cold. My heart, already worn from too much pain, gave a sudden, unwanted jump.