Chapter 2
Chapter 2 – Funeral Flowers And Steel
“You’re serious about the bars?” Edward asked, holding a clipboard as Claire gripped the metal rail, sweat rolling down her spine.
“Dead serious,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
Her arms trembled. Her right leg buckled again.
“Claire—”
“I said don’t help me.”
He took a step back.
The rehab suite smelled like bleach and rubber. Early morning light slashed across the floor. Claire’s hospital gown clung to her like second skin.
“One more step,” she whispered.
“You can rest—”
“One more.”
Her leg screamed. She bit her lip until she tasted blood. Then she moved—inch by inch—dragging the wreckage of her body forward until her left foot kissed the mark on the floor.
She exhaled, shaky but victorious.
Edward raised an eyebrow. “You just beat every projection I gave you.”
Claire leaned on the bar, panting. “Don’t lower the bar next time, Doctor.”
He almost smiled.
Then voices floated in from the hallway.
“Did you see who just walked in? Elodie. Not a scratch on her.”
“Moon Goddess must favor her.”
“Unlike some people…”
Claire didn’t flinch.
Edward’s jaw tensed. “You don’t have to listen to them.”
“I already did,” she said. “For years.”
The door opened a crack. A nurse stuck her head in. “Claire, um… I thought you should know. Your father’s memorial service is today.”
Claire nodded once.
“They’re holding it in the Alpha atrium. All the elites are gathering.”
“Right outside this room?”
The nurse nodded awkwardly. “Yes.”
“Perfect,” Claire said flatly. “Maybe someone will remember I’m not a ghost.”
The nurse disappeared. Edward folded his arms.
“You’re not going, are you?”
“I’m not invited.”
“That never stopped you before.”
She gave him a dry look. “I used to think being the Beta’s daughter meant something.”
Edward’s silence stretched too long.
Claire glanced down at her leg. “I’ll stand again before I beg for a seat at that table.”
---
Hours later, Claire sat on her hospital bed, dressed in slate-gray sweats, hair pulled back into a simple braid. She dabbed foundation on the worst bruises. She would not attend her father’s memorial looking like roadkill.
A voice drifted through the hallway.
“…such a shame, really. If she hadn’t insisted on that marriage—”
“She threw herself at Jasper. Elodie was always the right Luna.”
“She’s just a scar now. A reminder.”
Claire’s hand clenched.
Another knock. Another mistake.
A courier peeked in, holding an elaborate bouquet of lilies.
“Delivery for the atrium,” he said. “Wrong room?”
Claire stared at the flowers.
“No,” she said calmly. “You’re in the right place.”
He blinked. “You’re… Claire Nightwind?”
She nodded. “Leave them.”
When he left, she pulled the bouquet close.
White lilies. Funereal. Regal. Dismissive.
She took the scissors from the nightstand.
Snip.
Petals fell into the basin again. One by one. Controlled. Surgical.
“Cremation,” she whispered.
The door opened behind her. Edward stood there with a tight expression.
“They walked right past your room, Claire. Every single one of them.”
“I expected no less.”
“Your father served this Pack for forty years.”
“And now he’s ashes. Like these.” She dropped another petal into the bowl. “I’m honoring him the only way they’ll let me.”
Edward walked in slowly. “You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I do, actually. But not to them.”
“To who, then?”
Claire looked up, eyes bright but dry. “To myself.”
He sat down across from her. “What do you need?”
“Parallel bars in my room. Permanently.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You planning to dance in here?”
She held his gaze. “No. But I plan to leave standing.”
Edward gave her a long look. “I’ll authorize the install first thing in the morning.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“You’re not going to ask for pain meds, are you?”
Claire shook her head. “Pain reminds me I’m still here.”
Edward exhaled. “You’re tougher than anyone I’ve met.”
“No,” she said softly. “I’m just done being weak for people who never asked me to be strong.”
---
That night, long after the corridors emptied and the lilies wilted in the basin, Claire picked up her tablet again.
The wedding replayed.
Jasper stood beside her in a pale gray suit, jaw tight, eyes distant. She remembered the silence between them. How his fingers never curled around hers. How the crowd applauded like it was a coronation. How Elodie, seated in the front row, smiled like she already knew it would end.
Claire fast-forwarded to the moment the officiant pronounced them.
No kiss. Just a nod.
She zoomed in again on her own expression.
It wasn’t joy.
It was fear.
A desperate, silent plea.
She powered off the screen.
“Never again,” she whispered.
---
The next morning, before the sun rose, Edward helped install the bars in her room. Nurses hovered awkwardly. One muttered that no patient had ever requested rehab this early.
Claire ignored them all.
She stood between the chrome rails, hands trembling.
Step.
Wince.
Step again.
Edward watched from the corner, arms crossed.
“Did I ever tell you I broke my spine during the last territory war?” he said.
“No,” Claire grunted.
“I spent ten months learning to sit up. One year after that, I took my first unaided step.”
Claire paused.
“And now you’re here,” she said.
He nodded. “Helping someone even more stubborn than I was.”
Her lips twitched. Almost a smile.
Outside the room, footsteps echoed.
Male voices. Laughter. Commanding tones.
Jasper.
She didn’t look.
Just stared straight ahead, muscles shaking.
The chrome rail dug into her palms.
Two centimeters of glass separated them—worlds apart.
She took another step.
---
At dusk, Claire sat propped in bed, hair damp from a sponge bath. The lilies were gone now. Her room smelled like antiseptic and soap.
Edward appeared with a tray. “You should eat.”
“Later.”
He hesitated. “You’re making progress faster than anyone expected.”
Claire tilted her head. “Is that admiration or concern?”
“Both.”
She took the tray. “Thank you.”
Before he left, he paused. “Tomorrow?”
“I’ll walk to the window.”
He nodded, then added, “They’re planning a banquet for Elodie.”
Claire’s grip tightened on the tray.
“She’s officially being welcomed back.”
“Of course.”
“You don’t have to go.”
Claire met his eyes. “I’m going.”
“Why?”
She smiled faintly. “Because they think I won’t.”