Chapter Four: Her Other Half

Soft. Deep. Empty.

Kaia didn't dream. She simply floated weightless and still, like her body had dissolved into silence.

Until—

SPLASH.

Ice-cold water slammed into her face like a bucket of stones. Kaia gasped, choking as her body jerked upright. Her soaked hair clung to her cheeks as water ran down her neck and into her torn dress.

Her eyes flew open wild, confused, defensive.

And then… narrowed.

Rachel.

The woman stood over her with the empty metal bucket in hand, wearing the same sour expression the old Kaia had seen a hundred times. Her hair was pinned tightly. Her apron stained. Her face, unimpressed.

“You annoying little thing,” Rachel huffed, already turning to leave. “Always making my life harder. Get up and clean the mess you made at the bottom of the stairs and in the hallway.”

Kaia blinked. “Mess? But… I didn’t—”

“What about all the blood yesterday?” Rachel snapped, not bothering to look back. “Clean it up. And then get to the kitchen if you don’t want to starve again.”

She dropped a mop, a worn cloth, and a bucket beside Kaia's mattress. The door slammed a second later, leaving Kaia soaked, alone, and staring at the floor.

She didn’t move right away.

Her arms dripped with water. Her hair clung to her back. Her mind, though, had cleared.

The confusion that had fogged her since the awakening was gone now.

Her expression hardened.

She could feel something settle beneath her skin—a coldness that wasn’t numbness, but control. A still, dangerous calm.

“Kindness will be returned tenfold.”

“But wickedness…”

A thin smile tugged at her lips.

“Wickedness will be returned a hundred times over.”

She stood, slow and unbothered, and gathered her sodden hair behind her neck.

It was time to start.

The hallway was as moldy and cracked as she remembered. The makeshift bathroom, no more than a cramped chamber with rusted pipes and a cracked basin, still stank of mildew. But as Kaia stepped inside and removed her torn, blood-stained dress, she paused.

Her body felt… fine.

No aching joints. No fractured ribs. Her skin wasn’t tight from scabbing. Her breathing was clear. Even her movements were smooth graceful.

This isn’t my past body.

That thought was chilling.

It was better.

Stronger. Lighter.

The cracked skull. The deep bruises. The gashes Fiona and her friends had left, gone.

She stepped under the cold trickle of water and ran her fingers through her hair, washing away the dried blood in silence. As she watched it swirl down the rust-stained drain, Kaia muttered under her breath.

“The wolf… it healed me.”

She had no doubt. No other explanation made sense.

Minutes later, towel-drying her hair, Kaia returned to her small room. She walked past the shattered mirror and stopped before a pile of old clothes. Dresses, dull and faded. Cast-offs from other pack members.

She wrinkled her nose.

“Damnit. These people really didn’t care about her,” she muttered—Kaia Moonstone, that is.

“Don’t worry,” she said aloud, narrowing her eyes. “I’ll help you get revenge.”

She picked up two faded gowns: one light blue, one bright orange. She held them up, trying to decide.

“Pick the blue,” a voice said smoothly. “It won’t call as much attention as the orange.”

Kaia nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. The orange—”

She stopped mid-sentence.

Her fingers stiffened. The gowns dropped to the floor.

Her head snapped around.

There was no one else in the room.

“Who said that?” she whispered.

Nothing.

Silence.

Then—

“What do you mean? It’s me,” the voice returned, calm and slightly amused but inside her mind.

Kaia’s breath caught. Her heart kicked into high alert.

“No. No. What is this?” she murmured. “What’s going on?”

“I’m your wolf soul,” the voice replied, gentle but clear. “I was just born yesterday. I don’t have a name yet. You’ll have to give me one.”

Kaia stared at the far wall, frozen.

“So… you’re the wolf from yesterday?” she asked cautiously. “The one that tore my body apart?”

“Yes,” the voice replied. “You awakened me. Your soul merged with a divine wolf bloodline. That’s why I exist. I’m yours.”

Kaia felt her legs weaken slightly. She sat on the mattress, listening.

“Explain.”

And it did.

The voice, her wolf, explained the bond between werewolves and their wolf souls. How most wolves awaken between the ages of 15 and 18, unless something interferes. How her bloodline was not normal.

Divine. Ancient. Forgotten.

The Silver Moon God Wolf.

A creature of myth.

Kaia listened in stunned silence as the pieces slowly aligned in her head. All the bullying. The hatred. The abuse for not awakening a wolf.

And yet here she was with a divine beast inside her that most alphas could only dream of.

“…You don’t have a name?” she asked, a breath later.

“Not yet.”

She thought for a moment, then smiled softly. “Then I’ll call you Mia.”

There was a pause, as though the wolf inside her was holding its breath.

“Mia…” the voice repeated quietly. “Why?”

Kaia’s expression softened. “I once knew a woman with that name. Smart, quiet, strong. She always spoke like she carried a storm behind her eyes. You sound like her.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was full—of warmth. Gratitude. Pride.

“Then I’ll be Mia,” her wolf said at last, voice stronger now. “Thank you.”

A calm settled between them. Two souls in one body separate, but bound.

Then Mia’s tone shifted.

“You need to move. That maid will come back. You still haven’t cleaned the blood.”

Kaia sighed. “Right.”

She stood again, pulling the light blue gown over her head. It was a little short on her now. Her limbs were longer than the old Kaia’s. Her posture straighter. The body felt new, reborn.

She grabbed the bucket, cloth, and mop Rachel had tossed in earlier, and stepped into the hallway without hesitation.

No more hesitation.

Not from her.

Not from Mia.

The blood in the hallway was hers.

But so was the power that now pulsed in her veins.

And soon… this entire pack would feel it.

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