The Snow Wolf's Mate

Too Late for Truth

[POV: Cole]

I should be asleep.

Dayana is curled around me like a vine, her arm draped over my chest, her breath warm against my neck. Her skin smells like heat and fire and control—everything she is.

But my eyes are wide open, locked on the ceiling. And my mind won’t shut the hell up.

Aria is gone.

No one says her name now. Not in the open. There’s too much shame attached to it—too much discomfort in the silence she left behind.

But I feel it. I feel the weight of her absence pressing down on the pack. Pressing down on me.

The night she found out about Dayana and me—Goddess, it replays in my head like a curse. The look on her face. The way she froze. The way her voice cracked when she said my name like it didn’t recognize me anymore.

That moment—it wasn’t just pain. It was betrayal. Like I’d ripped something sacred out of her hands and crushed it in front of her.

And maybe I did.

I always knew she cared about me—more than a friend should. More than I ever let myself admit.

She thought I was her mate. She believed it with her whole heart.

And what did I do? I let her believe it.

I told myself it was kindness, that I didn’t want to hurt her. That maybe she’d grow out of it, and we could still be close. That her feelings didn’t have to change anything.

But maybe I just didn’t have the guts to say the truth.

I didn’t feel it—not like that. Not in the way she needed me to. And maybe, just maybe, I wanted to believe it could change. That if I tried hard enough, I could return what she gave me.

But then Dayana happened.

She didn’t creep into my heart like Aria did—soft and slow and gentle. No. She tore the door off its hinges and stormed inside.

She challenged me. Fought me. Matched me.

Her mind was sharp, her tongue sharper, and her hunger—for power, for me—was magnetic. Intoxicating. She made me feel like I was standing on the edge of something dangerous, something bigger than myself.

And I liked it. The problem was… I liked her too. But I also feared her.

Not in the way a soldier fears an enemy—but the way a man fears a storm he knows is coming but can’t outrun. There’s something in her—something cold and cunning, always watching.

She doesn’t just want to rise. She wants to rule. And she’s willing to burn down anything that gets in her way.

Even her own sister.

I used to think their rivalry was just petty, the way siblings can be. But after what happened to Aria—after how quickly she vanished without a trace—I’ve started to wonder if I ever really knew what went on behind closed doors in that house.

Next to me, Dayana stirs. Her hand slides across my chest, fingers pressing just a little too hard, like she senses the shift in my thoughts. She always does.

“What’s bothering you?” she murmurs, voice low and syrupy in the dark.

I keep my expression calm, neutral. “Nothing. Just… restless. Might go for a walk.”

She lifts her head slightly, eyes gleaming faintly in the moonlight that filters through the curtains. Her gaze is heavy. Knowing. “Are you still thinking about her?”

I hesitate. That’s all the answer she needs.

Her tone changes, becoming quieter. Colder.

“Do you even realize,” she says slowly, “that Aria was never worthy of you?”

I turn my head slightly, but I don’t speak.

“She didn’t love you,” she continues. “She loved the idea of you. She wanted the status. The title. Being with you would’ve made her important.”

Her words hit hard. Not because I believe them, but because part of me wants to. It would make everything easier if Aria were just some girl chasing a crown.

But she wasn’t. Aria never once tried to use me.

She blushed when I spoke to her. Fumbled her words when I trained with her. Gave me drawings of wolves that she’d hidden in her notebooks, like secrets she was too scared to share. She believed in me, even when she barely believed in herself.

She never asked for anything.

I look away, jaw tightening.

“I’m just clearing my head,” I say finally, sitting up and reaching for my shirt.

Dayana leans back against the pillows, watching me like she’s waiting for something else. An apology. A reassurance. A lie.

I don’t give her one.