Chapter8 Vesper Hayes
Silver's POV
I stared at the clause about spending ten thousand dollars daily, my mind spinning.
"I don't understand," I admitted, my voice small. "How am I supposed to spend that much money every day? I've never even seen that much money."
Rhydian's expression softened. He reached across the table, not quite touching my hand but close enough that I felt the warmth. "That's something we'll work on together. For now, don't worry about it."
But I did worry. The number felt impossible, absurd. In Blackwood Ridge, ten thousand dollars could feed the entire pack for months. The winters when children cried from hunger because there wasn't enough—that money could have saved them.
"What happens if I can't?" The question came out barely above a whisper.
"Then we'll figure it out." His tone was gentle, patient. "This isn't about punishing you. It's about—" He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "It's about helping you build a new life. A safe one."
I wanted to believe him, though I still didn't understand why anyone would need to spend so much money on... whatever those things were.
But something in his patient tone, in the way he looked at me like I wasn't stupid for not knowing, made me willing to try.
"Okay," I said softly. "I'll try my best."
"There's one more thing." Rhydian's gaze held mine, gentle but curious. "I still don't know what to call you. Are you ready to tell me your name now?"
My chest tightened. I looked down at my hands, at the dirt still embedded under my nails despite the bath. "I don't... I don't have a real name."
"What do you mean?"
The words stuck in my throat like broken glass. I looked down at my hands, heat creeping up my neck. I didn't want him to know—didn't want this powerful, composed Alpha to know how worthless I'd been in the pack. How they'd looked at me.
"In the pack, everyone just..." I fumbled with the edge of my sleeve, unable to meet his eyes. "They called me different things. Because of my hair."
I touched the silver strands self-consciously, shame burning through me. "I'm the only one in the pack with silver hair, so they... they just called me Silver. Most of the time."
The lie of omission sat heavy on my tongue. I couldn't bring myself to tell him about the other names—freak, cursed, half-breed—or how they'd spit them at me like curses.
I kept my gaze fixed on the table, terrified of what I'd see in Rhydian's face. Pity, maybe. Or worse—disgust that he'd taken in someone so worthless, someone who hadn't even awakened her wolf.
"How old are you?" Rhydian's voice was gentle, pulling me from my spiral of shame.
"Twenty," I whispered.
"I'm thirty," he said, his tone conversational, as if we were simply getting to know each other over dinner instead of discussing the humiliating remnants of my past.
"Ten years isn't such a large gap, but I want you to know—you're an adult. You have every right to make your own choices. Including choosing your own name."
I nodded, though I wasn't entirely sure what he meant. Then Rhydian picked up the pen and held it out to me.
"You escaped," he said quietly. "Which means everything can start over." He placed the pen in my palm, his fingers warm against my skin. "What name do you want for yourself?"
I stared at him, certain I'd misheard. "I can... I can choose?"
"Of course." His gaze held mine, steady and sure. "Your name should be yours to decide, not something forced on you by someone else. As for legal documents and identification, I'll handle all of that."
My hand trembled around the pen. The weight of it felt enormous, like holding my entire future. I thought about the nights I'd spent staring at the stars through the cracks in the pack house roof, dreaming of escape.
"Vesper," I whispered. "I want to be called Vesper Hayes."
Rhydian's eyebrows rose slightly. "Hayes? Is that a name you chose for yourself, or was it from your family?"
I hesitated, then said quietly, "It was my mother's family name. I overheard it once when I was little. They never told me anything about her, but... I kept it. I liked the way it sounded. Like it belonged to someone who might have been free."
"The evening star?" he asked softly. "Is that what Vesper means?"
I nodded, my throat tight. "The pack said I was cursed because my hair glowed in moonlight. But my sister told me once, when I was very small, that the evening star is the first to appear in darkness. That it guides lost travelers home."
My eyes burned with unshed tears. "I want to be that star. I want to guide myself home."
Rhydian reached out slowly, and gently touched my hair. His fingers traced through the silver strands with such careful reverence it made my heart stutter.
"Vesper Hayes," he said, his voice low and rough. "It's a beautiful name. Just like you."
The tears spilled over then, hot and unstoppable. No one had ever looked at my silver hair like it was something precious instead of something wrong.
Rhydian pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me without comment. While I wiped my eyes, he took a fresh sheet of paper and wrote in elegant script: Vesper Hayes.
"Here." He turned the paper toward me. "Practice writing it."
My hand shook as I tried to copy the letters. They came out clumsy and uneven, nothing like his perfect penmanship. I tried again. And again. Each time, the name looked a little less foreign, a little more like it could belong to me.
On my fifth attempt, Rhydian's hand covered mine, warm and steady. "Like this," he murmured, guiding my hand through the motions. His scent surrounded me, making it hard to concentrate. But I followed his lead, feeling the shape of each letter.
When we finished, I stared at my name on the page. Vesper Hayes. It looked real. It looked like it belonged to someone who mattered.
"Again," Rhydian said softly. "Until you can do it without thinking."
We practiced until my hand cramped, until the motions became muscle memory. Finally, I could write Vesper Hayes without thinking, the letters flowing almost naturally from the pen.
I stared down at the page filled with my new name, written over and over in my own hand. Something inside me shifted—like a door closing on everything that came before. Like a new door opening to something I couldn't yet see.
"I have a name," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I really have my own name."
Rhydian stood and came around the table. Before I could process what was happening, he pulled me to my feet and into his arms. The embrace was firm but gentle, his hand cradling the back of my head.
"From this moment forward," he said against my hair, "you are Vesper Hayes. You belong to yourself."
I buried my face in his chest and let myself cry—for the girl who never had a name, for the years of being called a burden.
When my tears finally subsided, Rhydian didn't let go immediately. His hand stroked my hair in slow, soothing motions.
"Thank you," I managed, my voice muffled against his shirt.
"You don't need to thank me for basic human decency." His tone held an edge of anger, but I knew instinctively it wasn't directed at me. "You should have always had the right to name yourself."
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at me. His gaze dropped to my lips. Slowly, he lowered his head, stopping just inches from my lips.
"May I?" His voice was barely a whisper, his breath warm against my mouth.
I nodded, unable to form words.
The kiss was gentle at first—a soft brush of lips that made my breath catch. Then his hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, and the kiss deepened.
When we finally broke apart, I was gasping for air, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest.
"Do you..." I had to pause to catch my breath. "Do you need to put the temporary mark on me now?"
"Mm," Rhydian murmured against my lips, already kissing me again. His mouth moved from my lips to my jaw, trailing heat down toward my neck.
My pulse jumped as his lips found the spot where my neck met my shoulder—where Slade's mark still burned. I wanted this, wanted Rhydian's scent to replace that awful reminder, but fear crept in unbidden.
"Could you..." I hesitated, my voice small. "Could you be gentle? When Slade bit me, it hurt so much."
Rhydian went absolutely still against me. I felt the tension coil through his body. His hands tightened on my waist for just a moment before deliberately gentling.
"I won't hurt you," he said, his voice rough but certain. "I promise, Vesper. I will never hurt you."
