Chapter 254
FAYE
+25 Pors
The moment Irene and I stepped into Helen’s room, the air felt charged–tight, like something had
already shattered and we were walking in on the echo of it.
Helen was standing near the dresser, her back half–turned to us, movements sharp and angry as she began to pace. The calm composure she’d worn earlier was gone. This was a different version of her–raw, offended, pride bristling like exposed wire.
“Mom?” Irene said carefully. “What just happened? What was the noise about?”
Helen didn’t look at her. “What happened,” she snapped, “is that your brother has completely lost
his mind.”
I glanced at Irene before stepping closer. “Helen, please,” I said gently. “Let’s just talk. No one is
attacking you. Alexander is just-”
“-power–drunk,” Helen cut in, finally turning to face us. Her eyes were sharp, blazing. “That’s what he is. So consumed with being Alpha that he’s forgotten who he’s speaking to.”
She let out a humorless laugh and shook her head. “Banishment,” she scoffed. “Did he really think
he could threaten me with banishment? Me?”
I swallowed. “He didn’t mean it like that. You know Alexander. He’s under a lot of pressure right
now. We all are.”
Helen straightened, drawing herself up in a way that reminded me painfully that she had once been Luna–no, that she still carried that authority in her bones. “Pressure?” she repeated. “I carried him in my womb. I birthed him. I nurtured him. And now he thinks he can stand in front of me and question my place in this pack?”
She turned to the mirror. “If he wants me gone so badly, then fine. I’ll leave. I won’t stay where I’m
disrespected.”
“Helen,” I said, my voice firmer now, “no one wants you to leave like this. Not really. He just wants
answers. We all do.”
She ignored me, snatching up her jacket and putting it on with unnecessary force. “I don’t owe him explanations when he speaks to me like that. He forgets himself far too easily.”
Irene shifted beside me, arms folding across her chest, her expression tired. She wasn’t stepping in any more. She wasn’t calming Helen down. She was just standing there… watching.
That bothered me more than Helen’s anger.
“Can we please slow down?” I pressed. “At least sit down first. You just got back. Whatever
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happened can wait until you’ve rested.”
Helen let out a short, sharp laugh. “Rest? He interrogated me outside…at the gates like I was a
criminal. And now he dared to ask me to leave… and you’re asking me to rest?”
She grabbed her phone from the bedside table, her fingers already tapping the screen. “No. I’m
done with this nonsense.”
I stopped short. “Who are you calling?”
“Someone to pick me up,” she said without looking at me. “Since I’m clearly no longer welcome
here.”
Something inside me snapped.
I stepped back, frustration washing over me in a hot wave, my chest tightening. There was no reasoning with her like this. Every word I said seemed to fuel her anger instead of soothing it.
I glanced at Irene again, silently pleading.
She met my gaze and shrugged.
Just shrugged.
That was it.
I turned to her, lowering my voice. “Can I talk to you for a second?” I asked, already reaching for her
arm.
She allowed me to pull her gently out of the room, the door closing softly behind us, though Helen’s sharp movements were still audible inside.
The moment we were in the hallway, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Irene,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm even as irritation crept in, “why aren’t you helping? This is your mother.”
She leaned against the wall, folding her arms again, unbothered. “I am helping,” she said lightly.
I stared at her. “By doing what? Watching the house burn?”
She sighed, clearly tired. “Faye, listen to me. I’ve seen this fight before. More times than I can
count. ”
“That doesn’t mean you just stand there,” I said. “ If she won’t listen to me, at least she might listen
to you.”
Irene shook her head slowly. “No. She won’t.”
She met my eyes then, something serious flickering beneath her calm. “Those two are exactly alike. Same pride, same stubbornness, same need to be right. When they clash, it’s not a
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disagreement–it’s a battle of wills.”
I frowned. “So what, we just let them tear each other apart?”
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“I’m saying,” she replied quietly, “that there is nothing either of us can do right now that won’t make
it worse. I’ve learned that the hard way.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again.
Because deep down, I knew she wasn’t wrong.
“And you?” Irene continued, her gaze softening. “You’re pregnant. You’ve been through enough
stress in the last twenty–four hours. You shouldn’t be stressing yourself like this.”
I shook my head. “I can’t just rest when this is probably happening because of me.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “This is not because of you.”
I laughed bitterly. “How sure are you? You don’t know that.”
She didn’t respond to that.
Before either of us could say more, the door behind us opened.
Helen stepped out, fully dressed now, her posture rigid, her phone in hand. Her expression was cool, composed again–but the anger still simmered beneath the surface.
“My ride is here,” she announced.
I straightened. “Helen- ”
She didn’t stop walking.
She moved past us, heels clicking sharply against the floor, not waiting for a response.
Not willing to talk, and not even looking back.
Irene and I stood there, watching her go.
And just like that, she walked away from us.
“Just let her be,” Irene said, placing a hand over my shoulder.
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