hapter 4
Sage smirked, a soft, rasping laugh escaping her as she slid her arm through Ryder’s. They walked out of the shop together, their bags weighed down with expensive potions and herbs meant to enhance their abilities.
“Those sheep must’ve weighed at least 60 pounds each, right? Guess my sister’s not as weak as she looks,” Sage mused, laughing.
“But at least she didn’t let them starve.”
A shiver ran through me, and not from the cold.
Added to the library
Ryder, as the pack’s alpha, earned a decent living, but what no one knew was that most of his wealth went to supporting younger pack members–many of whom couldn’t
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Chapter 4
even afford to shift without assistance.
We lived in near poverty.
There were months when we didn’t even have good meat to eat.
Worried for him, I had managed to buy two frail, underweight sheep that needed special
care.
I spent months raising them, strengthening them.
Then, they fell ill.
Panicked, I loaded them into a cart and dragged them toward town, my feet torn and bleeding–just to save them.
I thought if I could nurse them back to health, we’d finally have something decent to
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Chapter 4
eat.
But in the end, they didn’t survive.
Or at least, that’s what Ryder told me.
I still remember the weekend he made me leave.
When I returned, he told me both sheep had died, that he had buried them.
For weeks, I blamed myself. I agonized over whether I had given them the wrong medicine, whether my inexperience had cost us our one real meal in months.
But now, standing here, watching Ryder and Sage with their suitcases full of expensive herbs, realization hit me like a wolf’s bite.
He had lied.
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The sheep never died.
Ryder had given them to Sage, using them as a gift to keep her content.
Tears burned in my eyes–not just because of his lies, but because of my own stupidity.
How could I have been so blind?
Ryder noticed my expression and, in a poor attempt to hide the evidence, shoved the bags behind him.
But Sage, clinging to his arm, looked pleased with herself.
“Oh, hi, Sis,” she greeted warmly, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I haven’t been feeling great, so Ryder bought me some special supplements.”
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Her feigned innocence was almost laughable.
Emboldened by her words, Ryder scowled at
- me.
“Amber! Sage is your sister! She passed out at the train station from low blood sugar. What’s wrong with me wanting to help her?”
I said nothing.
Before I could turn to leave, the shopkeeper’s voice rang out.
“Miss, do you still need that burn ointment? It’s only a few silver pieces, and it will last a while.”
I glanced at the flattened copper coin in my palm, then at the heavy bags in Ryder’s
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arms.
A bitter smile curled my lips.
“No, thank you,” I replied softly. “I can’t afford
it.”
Then I walked out of the shop.
Ryder’s expression darkened, but before he could speak, Sage sighed theatrically, ever the victim.
“Ryder,” she whined, “you make more than enough to afford a simple ointment. How could Amber not?”
Then, with a wicked grin, she added, “Guess she still has a chip on her shoulder about what happened ages ago. She just wanted to embarrass me.”
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She dabbed at invisible tears, her performance flawless.
“Okay, if that’s how it is, I’ll leave.”
She turned as if to go.
Ryder’s face hardened.
He stepped forward and grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
“Amber, apologize to Sage!”
I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it.
“Why should I?” I asked coolly.
Ryder puffed out his chest, his voice brimming with self–righteousness.
“Because-”
