If silence were a human, it would have grown weary by now from being summoned so often by the Triga family of the Wind Winder pack. It cloaked the room deeply for the second time that chilly September night.

Jan opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. She didn’t really know what to say—or how to say what was on her mind. 

Staring at her husband wide-eyed, she hoped fervently that what she had just heard from him was false. 

“Jan…” Arnold called out to his wife slowly, but received no response.

Unable to bear the distraught look on her face, he placed his mug on the side table and walked up to her. He looked at her softly, trying to take her hands into his, but she pushed him away without hesitation. 

Instead, she stepped back and sat on the cushion nearest the wall, folding her trembling hands in her lap.

“Jan…” he called again, his cold, dark-blue eyes softening. He hated seeing his mate upset. But he admitted that he had it coming.

She had never supported the idea of patronizing witches. She believed, rightly, that witches were too cunning and unpredictable; they could demand the unthinkable in return for their services.

“What did you just say?” she asked, her voice void of emotion. Yet the slight tremor in her hands betrayed her anger—and fear. Witches were not to be trifled with.

Arnold paused, standing still. He didn’t know how to go about this.

Should I kneel while making this plea? he thought absently, momentarily forgetting that their daughter stood by the pillar, watching the scene unfold.

“Arnold, I asked a question,” Jan said sharply, her irritation rising. “When and why did you visit a witch?”

She couldn’t believe he would have anything to do with them—not after what had happened during the last pack war. That catastrophe had left scars too deep to forget.

“Last week,” he answered at last. “And you already know the why. I was left with no choice.”

As Jan sighed heavily and leaned back against the sofa, her head resting gingerly against the knob, Arnold knew she understood. If he hadn’t done something, their pack’s grounds would be confiscated, and their members enslaved.

“Okay…” Jan murmured, rubbing her forehead tiredly. She wished things were different for them.

Suddenly, her head jerked upright as a dreadful thought struck her. “Which of the potions?” she asked, her tone sharp with fear. She silently prayed he wouldn’t say the one that had just crossed her mind.

For the first time in years, Arnold felt nervous. He hadn’t expected her to press further about the potion. He’d thought she’d stop questioning once she heard witches were involved. 

“Arnold…” Jan called again, her voice low and trembling, her hands visibly shaking now.

“It is the Panjyo… the Panjyo potion,” he said at last, bracing for the worst.

The silence that followed was suffocating, blanketing the room for the third time—until the sound of shuffling feet broke it. It was Maya. 

She had been standing quietly, watching, but she couldn’t take it anymore. Her stomach twisted painfully. She needed to leave.

She deliberately shuffled her feet louder to catch their attention, knowing her father well enough to predict his reaction. He would tell her to leave—and he did.

“Maya, what are you still doing here?” Arnold asked, his dark-blue eyes returning to their cold edge. He had forgotten she was still there.

“I thought…” she began, but his sharp tone cut her off.

“Leave,” he commanded.

“Yes, sir,” she said quickly, relief flashing across her face as she scampered out of the room.

Walking briskly through the hallway—skipping once or twice—Maya made her way into the kitchen. She went straight to the cupboard where her mother usually kept food for her, especially when she was out of the pack grounds on errands or missions. She took out the food and placed it in the microwave, waiting for it to warm.

As she stood there, watching the dish rotate slowly, she thought about the heated discussion between her parents—especially the mention of the Panjyo potion. From her mother’s reaction, she could tell it wasn’t something good, though she didn’t know exactly why. 

I just hope it won’t affect my life span or ruin my chances of finding a mate, she thought uneasily. Surely Dad couldn’t be that cruel or desperate.

The thought of being mateless drew a heavy sigh from her. She was twenty now, yet she still hadn’t found her mate. Did I offend the Moon Goddess? The question had haunted her daily since she turned eighteen.

The soft ding from the microwave snapped her from her thoughts. Maya stood from the stool near the counter and turned off the microwave. She took out her meal—spaghetti and meatballs—and grabbed a spoon from the rack. 

She ate hurriedly, her mind still racing. She needed a few hours of sleep before pack training at 5 a.m. Judging by the stillness of the night, it had to be close to midnight.

When she finished, she dropped her plate in the sink and trudged toward her room, exhaustion weighing down her steps. She turned the knob, ready to step inside, when her mother’s voice echoed in her head through the pack link.

Maya, come back to the study now.

Maya exhaled heavily, shoulders slumping. Turning away from her inviting room, she dragged her feet back toward her father’s study. When she arrived, she found her parents in the same positions she’d left them—only now her mother looked defeated, her face pale and resigned.

She wondered what had changed.

“What is the name of the human?” her father asked, cutting into her thoughts before she could even step fully into the room.

“Her name is Emma,” Maya said quietly.