Three weeks.

That’s how long it took for Marcel to completely erase the night in his study.

If I thought that night was a turning point, I was a fool. It wasn’t a beginning; it was a final, desperate goodbye that only I had been aware of. Since then, Marcel hadn't just been cold he had been a stranger. He didn't look at me when I poured his coffee. He didn't acknowledge me when I cleaned his boots. He treated me with the same clinical indifference he showed the floorboards under his feet.

I, on the other hand, was falling apart.

"Vanessa! The silver isn't going to polish itself!" Martha’s voice barked from the kitchen doorway.

I slumped over the sink, my stomach rolling in a violent wave. The smell of the lamb roasting for tonight’s feast was making my head spin. "I’m on it, Martha. Just… give me a second."

"You’ve been 'taking a second' for ten days," Martha grumbled, though her eyes softened for a fraction of a second. "You look gray, girl. Go sit down before you faint and break the Alpha’s china."

I didn't sit. I couldn't. If I stopped moving, I’d start thinking. And if I started thinking, I’d remember the way Marcel’s hands felt on my skin the only memory keeping me from sinking into the dark.

I grabbed a tray of appetizers and headed toward the drawing room.

The "inner circle" was gathered. Marcel, Mia, Raval, and the Elders. Barnard was droning on about territory lines, but my eyes were glued to Marcel. He was sitting in his armchair, one leg crossed over the other, looking regal and utterly terrifying.

Mia was perched on the arm of his chair, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Oh, look," Mia chirped as I entered. "The little mouse is back. Honestly, Marcel, she looks worse every day. Are you sure she isn't contagious?"

Marcel didn't even lift his gaze from the maps on the table. "She’s fine, Mia. Just overworked."

His voice was like a slab of granite. No emotion. No warmth. Not even the anger from three weeks ago.

"Well, she smells… off," Mia insisted, wrinkling her nose. "Like sour milk and cheap soap. It’s ruinous to my appetite."

I bit my lip, moving to the side table to set down the tray. My hand slipped. A small piece of bruschetta tumbled onto the rug.

"Clumsy bitch," Ray muttered from the corner, his arms crossed over his chest. He was Marcel's lead enforcer, and he hated omegas almost as much as Mia did.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, kneeling to pick it up.

As I bent over, the world tilted. My stomach did a somersault, and a cold sweat broke out across my forehead. The scent of the garlic on the tray hit me like a physical punch.

I bolted.

I didn't ask for permission. I didn't care about the silver. I sprinted for the hallway bathroom, barely making it before I lost what little breakfast I’d managed to swallow.

I sat on the tile floor, gasping, my heart hammering against my ribs.

It’s just the wolfsbane, I told myself. It’s just the stress.

But deep down, in the part of me that was still connected to the moon, I knew. The bond hadn't just sparked that night; it had taken root.

"Vanessa?"

A shadow fell across the doorway. I looked up, my eyes watering, to see Nathan. He was leaning against the frame, his amber eyes clouded with concern. He wasn't like Marcel. He didn't hide behind a mask.

"Go away, Nathan," I groaned, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"You've been sick every morning for a week," he said, stepping inside and locking the door behind him. "And don't tell me it's the flu. I'm a Blackwood, Vanessa. I can smell the change in your hormones from down the hall."

I froze. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're carrying," he whispered, his voice thick with a mix of shock and something that sounded like grief. "Is it his?"

"Who else would it be?" I snapped, the fear finally turning into anger. "He's my mate, Nathan. Even if he hates me, he's the only one I've ever"

"He doesn't know," Nathan realized, his face paling. "If he knew, he wouldn't be doing what he's about to do."

"What is he about to do?"

Nathan didn't answer. He just looked at me with pity, and that was far worse than Marcel’s coldness.

The bell for the Full Moon Assembly rang an hour later.

This was the time when the pack gathered to hear the Alpha’s decrees. Usually, it was about hunting quotas or new recruits. But tonight, the air felt different. Heavy. Electric.

I stood in the back, hidden behind a pillar, my hand instinctively resting on my still-flat stomach. I felt a strange sense of calm. I'll tell him tonight, I thought. Once the assembly is over, I'll go to his study. I'll tell him about the babies. He won't reject me if he knows he has an heir.

Marcel stood on the dais, the moonlight through the skylight turning his dark hair to silver. He looked like a god.

"Pack members," Marcel began, his voice echoing with Alpha authority. "The strength of the Obsidian Pack lies in its bloodlines. To ensure our future, I have made a decision regarding my station."

Mia stepped up beside him, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

"To lead, I must have a Luna who matches my strength," Marcel continued. He finally looked toward the back of the room. His eyes found mine. For a second, the coldness flickered, replaced by a raw, jagged edge of pain.

Then, it was gone.

"I, Marcel Blackwood, Alpha of the Obsidian Pack, recognize the moon's choice for my mate," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl.

The pack gasped. My heart leapt. He's going to do it. He's going to claim me.

"And I find her wanting," Marcel finished.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Vanessa," he barked. "Step forward."

I walked through the crowd, my legs feeling like they belonged to someone else. I stopped at the foot of the dais, looking up at him. I tried to mind-link him, to scream 'I'm pregnant!' into his head, but the wolfsbane he'd forced me to drink act like a wall. I couldn't reach him.

"Vanessa," he said, looking down at me as if I were a bug under his boot. "You are an omega. An orphan of rogue blood. You are a weakness I cannot afford."

"Marcel, please," I whispered, the tears blurring my vision.

"I, Marcel Blackwood," he began the formal chant, his voice rising in power, "reject you, Vanessa, as my mate and the future Luna of this pack. I sever the cord. I break the bond. I cast you out of my bloodline."

The pain hit me like a physical blow to the chest. It was a searing, white-hot agony that made me collapse to my knees. My wolf let out a guttural, soul-shattering howl inside my head as the connection snapped.

It felt like dying. It felt worse than dying.

"Do you accept my rejection?" he demanded.

I looked up at him through the haze of pain. He was standing there, watching me suffer, and he didn't even flinch. He didn't care.

"I… I accept," I choked out.

The bond went dark. The silence in my head was terrifying.

"The ceremony is over," Marcel announced to the pack, his voice cold and final. "The celebration for my engagement to Mia begins now."

He turned his back on me.

I lay on the floor, my fingers clawing at the stone, the rejection pain mixing with a new, sharp cramp in my abdomen.

The babies.

I struggled to my feet, my head spinning. I needed to get out. I needed to run before I lost them, too.

As I turned to flee, a man stepped into the light at the edge of the hall. He was older, with a jagged scar running down his cheek and eyes that looked like cold brass.

"Well, well," the man said, his voice a raspy drawl. "I leave for five years and Marcel turns into a heartless bastard. Just like his father."

The room went still again.

"Cousin Dylan," Marcel said, his voice laced with a new kind of tension.

Dylan, Marcel’s cousin and the most notorious mercenary in the northern territories—didn't look at Marcel. He looked straight at me. He walked forward, his presence smelling of gunpowder and old blood.

He stopped in front of me, reaching out to tilt my chin up.

"You're the little mate he just threw away?" Dylan asked, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. He leaned in, his nose brushing my temple. His eyes went wide.

He smelled it.

Dylan’s gaze flicked to Marcel, then back to my stomach. "Oh, Marcel… you really are a fool. You just threw away more than a mate."

"Get your hands off her, Dylan," Marcel growled, his wolf surfacing.

Dylan laughed, a dark, jagged sound. "Or what? You've rejected her. She's free game now, isn't she?"

Dylan leaned into my ear, his voice a deadly whisper. "Don't worry, little bird. If the Alpha doesn't want his prize, I'm more than happy to take the leftovers. And the secrets they carry."

I looked at Marcel, hoping for a spark of protection.

He just looked at me with cold, dead eyes. "Take her if you want, Dylan. She’s nothing to me."

The rejection had left me hollow, but the way Marcel looked at me as if I were a stain on the floor he couldn’t wait to scrub away was what truly killed me.

I was twenty-one years old. I had spent fifteen of those years as an orphan in this pack, ever since my parents were killed in a rogue raid. I had grown up in the kitchens, sleeping on a cot, with only the memory of Marcel’s childhood kindness to keep me warm. I had waited my whole life for my wolf to wake up, for the moon to give me a place to belong.

And the moon had given me Marcel. Only for him to spit on the gift.

I sat in the small, cramped laundry room, my hands resting on my stomach. The wolfsbane was finally wearing off, and for the first time, I could feel them—three tiny pulses of life. Triplets. A miracle I didn't think my omega body could handle.

"You're still here?"

The voice was like a bucket of ice. I looked up to see Marcel standing in the doorway. He looked impeccable, his Alpha aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

"I have nowhere else to go, Marcel," I whispered. "I’m an orphan. I’ve lived here since I was six."

"That’s not my problem." He stepped into the room, his presence making the walls feel like they were closing in. "You’re a distraction. Every time I see you, I smell the rot of that broken bond. It’s making the pack restless."

"The rot of the bond you broke!" I stood up, my voice trembling with a sudden flash of anger. "You threw me away like trash!"

Marcel moved so fast I didn't see him. Suddenly, he was inches from my face, his hand gripping the shelf behind my head. "I did what was necessary for the Obsidian Pack. You are a weak omega. You couldn't survive a Luna’s challenge, let alone lead an army."

"You don't know what I can do," I hissed.

"I know what you are," he sneered, his gaze dropping to my lips for a split second before his eyes turned back to stone. "And right now, you’re a liability. My cousin Dylan is already sniffing around you. Do you have any idea how that looks? The Alpha’s rejected mate throwing herself at a mercenary?"

"I am not throwing myself at anyone!"

"Then why was he in the hallway outside your room this morning?" Marcel growled, his hand moving to grip my chin.

"I don't know! Ask him!"

The door to the laundry room creaked open. Mia stood there, looking like a cat that had found the cream. She held a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.

"Oh, Marcel, darling... I hate to interrupt," Mia said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "But I think I found why she’s so eager to stay."

Marcel released my chin and turned. "What is it?"

Mia handed him the paper. "One of the omegas found this in the trash near Vanessa’s cot. It’s a note. From Dylan."

Marcel snatched the paper. His face went from cold to murderous as he read it.

"What does it say?" I asked, a pit of dread forming in my stomach.

Marcel’s eyes flashed a terrifying, glowing gold. He turned back to me, his voice a low, guttural snarl. "'Meet me at the southern gate at midnight. We’ll take the pups and leave this pathetic Alpha behind.'"

My heart stopped. "What? I’ve never seen that! I don't even know what that means!"

"Don't lie to me!" Marcel roared, throwing the paper at my face. "Pups? You’re pregnant, aren't you?"

I gasped, my hand flying to my stomach. I couldn't hide the reflex.

Marcel saw it. His face contorted in a mask of pure rage and betrayal. "You’re carrying. And since I haven't touched you in weeks, and you’ve been sneaking around with Dylan..."

"Marcel, no! It's yours!" I screamed. "The night in the study! It’s been three weeks, I just found out—"

"Don't you dare use that night to cover your infidelity!" Marcel grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. "The doctor said you were on scent-blockers that night! You couldn't have conceived! You’ve been using Dylan to get back at me, haven't you? You wanted to breed a rival heir?"

"Marcel, listen to me"

"I’ve heard enough," he spat, shoving me away. He looked at Mia. "Get Ray. Tell him to bring Dylan to the Great Hall. Now."

"Marcel, please, she’s lying!" I cried, pointing at Mia. "She framed me!"

Mia just smiled, a slow, beautiful, evil curve of her lips. "The evidence doesn't lie, Vanessa. You’re a traitor to the pack."

Ten minutes later, I was forced into the center of the Great Hall. Dylan was already there, looking bored as Ray held a silver blade to his throat. Nathan was standing in the corner, his face pale and eyes wide with shock.

"Is it true, Dylan?" Marcel asked, pacing like a caged tiger on the dais. "Is she carrying your bastards?"

Dylan looked at me, then at Marcel. He let out a dark, dry chuckle. "The lady says they're yours, Alpha. But I’ve always had a thing for your leftovers. Maybe we did have a little fun while you were busy with your new Luna."

"You liar!" I shrieked, trying to lung at him, but Ray held me back. "I’ve never even spoken to you alone!"

Dylan winked at me. "Don't get cold feet now, babe. You said you hated him. You said he was a monster."

Marcel let out a roar that shook the very foundation of the building. He shifted—not fully, but his claws burst through his skin and his fangs elongated. He descended the stairs, the air thick with the scent of blood and ozone.

"You betrayed the pack," Marcel whispered, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. "You betrayed me."

"Marcel, I’m telling the truth!" I sobbed, falling to my knees. "I swear on the Moon Goddess, these children are yours!"

"Silence!" Marcel’s Alpha command hit me, pinning me to the floor.

He looked at Ray. "She is no longer a member of this pack. She is a rogue. A traitor. Strip her of her rank and throw her into the forest. If she is seen on Obsidian land after sunrise, kill her on sight."

"Marcel, no!" Nathan stepped forward. "You can't do this! She's pregnant!"

"She's carrying a mercenary's mutts!" Marcel turned on his brother, his eyes glowing. "Do you want to join her, Nathan?"

Nathan stepped back, his jaw tight.

Marcel walked over to me, kneeling so his face was level with mine. He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "I should kill you for this, Vanessa. But I want you to live. I want you to live as a nameless, packless dog, knowing that you lost everything for a man who won't even remember your name by morning."

He stood up and looked at the crowd. "Get her out of my sight."

Ray grabbed my hair, dragging me toward the door. I didn't fight. I couldn't. The pain in my heart was so loud it drowned out the world. I looked back one last time.

Marcel was standing with his back to me, his arm wrapped around Mia’s waist.

But as I was thrown through the heavy oak doors into the pouring rain, I didn't see the single, solitary tear that escaped Marcel’s eye.

I just felt the cold.

I ran. I ran until my lungs burned and my feet bled. I ran until the lights of the Obsidian Pack were nothing but a memory.

I stopped by a stream, clutching my stomach. "I'll protect you," I whispered to the three heartbeats inside me. "I'll never let him hurt you."

Suddenly, the bushes behind me rustled.

I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. A pair of glowing amber eyes emerged from the darkness.

"Going somewhere, little bird?"

It was Dylan. And he wasn't alone.

Dylan did not hurry, and that frightened me more than the glowing eyes or the five mercenaries spreading out between the trees. A man who walks slowly toward his prey has already decided exactly how the hunt will end.

I backed away until the stream soaked my ruined shoes and the cold crept up past my ankles. Behind me the water ran black beneath a sky without any moon, and in front of me the mercenaries closed the gaps in their half circle. Every one of them kept his eyes fixed on my stomach instead of my face, as though I were nothing more than a basket carrying something valuable.

"You can stop running, little bird," Dylan said, spreading his scarred hands as if he were offering me a gift. "Nobody is coming to rescue you tonight, and nobody in that great stone house will notice you are gone before breakfast."

"The Alpha will notice," I said, though my voice shook badly enough to ruin the lie. "He banished me, but he would never allow a mercenary to touch what belongs to his bloodline."

"What belongs to his bloodline?" Dylan tilted his head, and the amber light in his eyes flickered like a candle in a draft. "Marcel announced to three hundred witnesses that those pups belong to a stranger, and I was generous enough to agree with him."

The memory of his wink in the Great Hall rushed back, and heat rose in my chest so quickly that it drowned out the cold for a moment. "You lied about everything in there. I never spoke to you alone, and you knew it while you stood there smiling at me."

"Of course I knew it." He sounded almost pleased that I had finally understood. "Who do you think wrote that charming little note about meeting at the southern gate? I practiced your handwriting for a full week, and I still believe the curly letters were a lovely touch."

My knees nearly gave out beneath me. "Why would you do that to a girl who never harmed you?"

"Because Mia paid me very well to do it." He said the name the way someone might name the price of a good horse. "She arrived at my camp with a purse of gold and a tearful story about a jealous omega who threatened her future, and all she needed was someone to supply the ink."

Everything I had screamed in that hall, every desperate word that nobody had believed, had been true from the beginning. Mia had stood beside me with that cruel little smile, and she had known the entire time that I was innocent.

"She will never be Luna," I whispered. "The Moon Goddess chose me, and no amount of gold can change what the Goddess decides."

"The Goddess is a poor protector of orphans, I am afraid." Dylan crouched at the edge of the water, close enough that I could smell the gunpowder clinging to his coat. "In any case, Mia only wanted you gone, but I am a man with larger ambitions than a jealous girl's revenge."

I tightened my arms around my waist. "What do you want from me?"

"I want what you are carrying." He said it plainly, without any cruelty at all, which somehow made it worse. "Marcel has spent years believing he will never have an heir, because the old Alpha's blood has grown thin and his bride is barren, though she hides it well. Three Blackwood pups born outside his control would make the most valuable hostages in the entire northern territory."

The word barren struck me strangely, and I stored it away in the back of my mind even as terror swallowed my other thoughts. Three heartbeats pulsed against my palms, small and stubborn, and I made a silent promise that no man alive would ever turn them into currency.

"They are not yours to trade," I said. "They are not anyone's to trade."

"Everything is somebody's to trade, sweetheart." Dylan rose and brushed the mud from his knees. "You will come with us quietly, you will carry those pups to term in a comfortable cell, and when Marcel finally begs for them, I will name my price."

I looked past him then, because staring at his face had become unbearable, and my gaze caught on the mercenary standing closest to the trees. He wore a plain brown coat, but the collar had been turned up carelessly, and beneath the fold I glimpsed the silver thread of an Obsidian guard's insignia.

Dylan followed my stare and laughed softly. "Observant, aren't you? Yes, a few of Marcel's own soldiers have joined my little expedition, because Ray runs the night patrols, and Ray has always preferred loyalty that comes with a payment."

"Then Marcel's guards will report that I escaped," I said, grasping for any thread of hope. "They will start searching for me at sunrise, and they will find your footprints."

"They will find nothing, because by sunrise Mia will have announced that a rogue pack killed you in the forest." Dylan's smile widened until his scarred cheek crumpled like old paper. "Raval is already preparing the funeral, and the pack will mourn for exactly one evening before they forget your name entirely."

The cold in my body changed then, deepening into something steady and almost calm. They had not simply thrown me away, because they had arranged my death in advance, with the same care a cook uses to plan a feast.

I needed time, and time was the only weapon an omega had ever been allowed to carry. "You said Mia wanted me gone," I began slowly, forcing my breathing to even out. "If she hears that you intend to keep me alive, she will not forgive you, and a woman who pays for a murder usually expects to receive a body."

"Mia will receive a convincing story, and that is all she has ever needed." But his eyes narrowed, because I had touched a nerve. "Why does a girl in your position suddenly care about the fears of her enemy?"

"Because I am wondering which of you will betray the other first." I lifted my chin, mimicking the cold elegance I had watched Marcel use a thousand times from the shadows of the kitchen. "You told me she is barren and desperate, so tell me what she would do if she learned that you intended to sell the very heirs she wants dead."

For a heartbeat Dylan said nothing, and the mercenaries shifted uneasily behind him. I had planted a seed of doubt, and I watched it take root behind his brass eyes.

Then something moved in the water.

At first I thought it was only the current, because the stream had begun to steam in the cold air, rising in pale ribbons that curled around my ankles. The ribbons thickened, and as they thickened they turned silver, glowing faintly from within like moonlight trapped inside smoke.

"What is that?" one of the mercenaries muttered, taking a step backward.

"Fog," Dylan snapped, though he glanced over his shoulder with the first flicker of doubt I had seen from him. "The rain has simply drawn it up from the river."

But the fog did not behave like ordinary fog. It rolled uphill against the wind, swallowing the roots of the trees and the boots of the men, and it carried a scent I could not name, something clean and cold and ancient, like frost on stone in a forgotten temple.

My wolf, still numb from the wolfsbane, twitched once deep inside my mind. It was the faintest movement, barely more than a shiver, but it was the first sign of life I had felt from her since the rejection.

"Dylan," the mercenary in the brown coat said, his voice cracking. "I cannot see my own hands."

"Hold your positions," Dylan ordered, but the fog had already devoured the edges of the clearing, and the silver glow pressed closer until I could barely distinguish the shapes of the men from the trunks of the trees.

A scream tore through the whiteness on my left.

It was a short, terrible sound that ended abruptly, as though a hand had closed around the screamer's throat. A heavy body hit the ground somewhere beyond my sight, and a second scream rose on my right, followed by the wet crunch of something breaking.

"Shift!" Dylan roared. "All of you shift now!"

The fog answered with laughter, low and amused and entirely too calm for the chaos it had caused, and the sound seemed to come from every direction at once. Dylan whirled in a slow circle, his claws bursting from his fingertips, and for the first time since he had stepped out of the bushes, I saw genuine fear transform his face.

"That should not be here," he whispered, so quietly that I almost missed it. "He swore the Silver-Mist Alpha would never cross this border."

Before I could ask who he meant, a tall shadow stepped out of the glowing mist directly behind him.