Two more days.
I kept repeating it in my head like a quiet rhythm, something steady to stop the sting in my chest from flaring again. Two more days, Silvana. Just keep your head down. Smile when you're expected to. Go invisible when it's safer. You've survived eighteen years; what's forty-eight more hours?
Patience, I remind myself. Just a little longer.
I stood on the back porch of the Goldenwolf house, arms folded against the late-afternoon breeze. The pack yard stretched beyond the wooden steps; training grounds, equipment sheds, and the familiar blur of bodies moving through drills. Laughter rose and fell from the younger wolves, the ones who still believed life was fair. I watched them the way someone watches a party through a window they aren't invited to.
It wasn't that I wanted to be included. I'd stopped wanting a long time ago, but it still scraped a little at the edges of my ribs.
"Silvana," a voice snapped behind me.
My mother. Of course.
I turned just in time for her to shove a stack of linens against my stomach, "Wash these. Before dinner, preferably. And stay out of the way while guests are here."
Guests. Meaning pack members coming for the pre-run gathering. Meaning Mariana would be glowing again, draped in the center of everything.
"Okay," I murmured. I didn't bother reminding my mother that I had chores assigned already. It never mattered.
She walked away before I even finished nodding.
I reminded myself again. Two more days.
I tightened my grip on the linens and stepped inside, eyes down, shoulders narrow. The house buzzed with conversation. Warmer voices reserved for my sister. Colder ones tossed over my head without bothering to land.
Mariana stood near the fireplace, surrounded by half the young wolves in the pack. She was already dressed for the full-moon run even though it wasn't for hours yet. Silver sports top, fitted leggings, hair immaculate, her smile was bright, easy, the kind that made people lean in.
She was everything a Goldenwolf daughter was supposed to be.
I made it halfway across the living room before she noticed me. Her eyes flicked over me the way someone checks for dust.
"Silvana," she said sweetly, "Mom still making you do the housework? Poor thing... Some of us are meant for better things, I guess."
A few of the other girls snickered.
I kept walking.
If I answered, it would only feed her.
If I paused, she'd pounce.
Better to be invisible. Just for two more days.
In the laundry room, I dropped the linens into the machine, set the cycle, and pressed my forehead to the cool metal for a second. My thoughts drifted forward. Past tonight, past tomorrow, toward the moment I would finally turn eighteen. I pictured the packed bag under my bed. The envelope of money I'd saved from odd jobs. The bus schedule I memorized.
A small, fragile freedom waiting like a lantern in the dark.
Someone clearing their throat made me straighten.
Beta Rowan, the pack's second-in-command, stood in the doorway. His gaze was steady. He was one of the few who never mocked me, but he never stepped in either. Neutrality, I guess.
"Your father wants everyone outside," he said, "Alpha Viktor is making an announcement before the run."
"Alright."
I brushed past him, but he called my name softly, "Two more days, isn't it?"
My heart kicked, "What?"
Rowan shrugged, "You're quieter than most, Silvana, but I notice things."
My throat tightened, but I swallowed the words I wanted to say. He didn't deserve them. So I lowered my gaze, stepped around him, and kept walking.
Outside, wolves gathered in a half-circle around the platform where Alpha Viktor stood. My father towered over most of them; broad shoulders, dark hair gone silver at the edges, expression carved from stone. His eyes skimmed the crowd… and skipped over me completely.
He only looked at Mariana.
Of course.
"And lastly," he said, voice booming, "we welcome back Alexandre Greymac, who has returned from leadership training with the Northern Elders. He and my daughter, Mariana, will complete their bonding ceremony after her birthday next month."
Cheering rose instantly. Applause. Whistles.
My stomach twisted.
Alexandre emerged from the crowd like a shadow stepping into daylight. Taller than before. Sharper and more controlled. He carried himself like he owned the ground he walked on. The entire Greymac Pack treated him like the coming dawn.
And me?
To him, I had always been the dirt under it.
His gaze swept lazily across the gathered wolves, greeting familiar faces, nodding to elders. Then, too quickly to be intentional, it flickered over me.
Nothing changed in his expression. No recognition. No thought.
But it still felt like a bruise pressed too hard.
I looked away first.
My father finished the speech, the pack dispersed, and I slipped back toward the house. I knew better than to linger when Alexandre and Mariana were around. He'd always found a reason to get under my skin, mocking my slow shifting, calling me dead weight, reminding me that some wolves were born failures.
Not that he cared enough to say those things to me anymore. Now, ignoring me was easier.
Good. Easier for me, too.
I climbed the stairs, ready to finish packing tonight.
Two more days, and that's it.
"Silvana," Mariana's voice rang out behind me, syrupy sweet and sharp underneath.
I paused.
She linked her arm through mine as though we were close. As though her nails weren't sinking in just a bit too deep.
"You saw Alexandre, right? He looks incredible. And after the bonding ceremony…" She smiled at nothing in particular, "I'll finally take my place as Luna. Everything is falling into place."
"Congratulations," I said softly.
"Oh, don't sound so pathetic. You're leaving soon anyway, right? You won't be around to witness the wedding."
I froze.
She leaned in, "What? Shocked, I know? Silly. You think you're subtle, but you've been dreaming about escape since you were practically twelve."
My breath stalled.
"Just make sure you don't embarrass the family before you go," She patted my cheek lightly, "I'd hate for you to ruin my moment."
She swept away before I could answer. I stood there, fists tight, heart pounding.
Two more days.