Ellen's POV

The hospital was a blur of white lights and hushed urgency, but all I could focus on was the girl lying unconscious behind the glass. Terry. My daughter—my everything. Or so I thought.

I had clutched the latest test results so tightly that the paper crumpled in my trembling hands. No. This can’t be. My chest tightened as the pack doctor’s voice replayed in my head like a cruel echo: “Luna, we’ve run the test twice. The results are conclusive. Terry isn’t biologically yours.”

I could barely breathe. I had carried her, raised her. How could science tell me otherwise? I turned to the doctor, my tone sharper than intended. “Run it again.”

He hesitated. “We already—”

“Again,” I said, nearly snarling. My wolf stirred beneath the surface, restless and furious.

Minutes dragged into an eternity. When he returned, I didn’t need him to speak. His face said everything. I snatched the paper and tore it in half, my fury exploding. “This is a lie!”

Unable to sit still, I rushed from the hospital, every instinct screaming for answers. Only one person could be behind this madness—Jaime. My mate. The man I once trusted.

By the time I reached the pack house, the moon was high. I was halfway up the staircase when I heard voices drifting from the library. One was Jaime’s. The other—Velma.

Curiosity gripped me like a vice, and I crept closer. The door was cracked open just enough.

Velma was coiled around Jaime like a viper, her voice syrupy with malice. “You made sure she won’t discover the truth, right? That brat’s in the hospital... Tell me the poison’s working.”

Poison?

“She’s fading fast,” Jaime replied, his fingers brushing Velma’s cheek. “Ellen will never know Terry isn’t hers. By morning, she’ll be gone. And so will the secret.”

I barely held back a gasp, slapping a hand over my mouth. My legs trembled. My wolf howled inside me—furious, betrayed, mourning. They had poisoned my child. My sweet, innocent Terry.

And worse... there was someone else. My real daughter?

I didn’t confront them. Not yet. I needed proof, a plan. But my heart was splintering by the second.

Back in my room, I tried to piece things together. My head swam with fragments of memories—the milk Jaime insisted I drink earlier, his eyes unreadable as I sipped it. Moments later, I collapsed onto the bed, the world fading to black.

I awoke to the smell of smoke.

Jaime sat beside me, his face grave. “The hospital... it caught fire. Terry didn’t survive.”

His words sliced into me, deeper than any blade.

“You’re lying,” I whispered, but my voice cracked. “No—she was getting better—”

“She was trapped, Ellen. It spread too fast. No one could save her.”

I shoved him away, staggering to my feet. “I need to see her!”

Ignoring his protests, I ran. Smoke billowed into the sky as I reached the burning ruins. Firefighters yelled behind caution tape, but I dropped to my knees at the edge of the wreckage.

“Terry...” I sobbed, every breath a dagger. “No... please, no...”

Jaime appeared beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. His comfort felt cold. Controlling. Fake.

“If only you’d kept her at home,” he murmured.

I turned, glaring through the tears. “Don’t you dare blame me!”

He recoiled, masking his face in grief. “I only wanted to protect you both.”

Liar.

The test results. The poison. The milk. The fire. It was all calculated.

But they made one mistake.

They didn’t finish me.

I would rise. I would uncover the truth—about Terry, about my stolen child, about every deception. And when I did, I would burn their lies to ash.

They tried to destroy me.

They will regret leaving me alive.

Ellen’s POV

Two months had crawled by since Terry’s funeral, but the agony hadn’t dulled—it had just shifted. The grief itself was no longer the heaviest weight. What tormented me more was the hidden truth, festering in silence. Terry was never mine, and Jaime and Velma had been the puppeteers behind the cruel deception.

Each sleepless night was filled with thoughts of the child I had never met—my true daughter. Did she have dimples when she smiled? Was she safe somewhere, living a life she was robbed of? Or worse… was she even laid to rest with dignity?

These questions consumed me, slowly eroding the fragile composure I wore like armor. For a decade, I had poured my soul into loving and raising a child I didn’t give birth to, while two monsters spun lies behind my back.

The pack didn’t know the truth. After Terry’s death, they flocked around Jaime like he was the only one who’d lost something. Their pity fueled him. He wore mourning like a perfectly tailored suit, but his sorrow had an edge—one he directed at me.

“If you’d just kept her home that night,” he’d say again and again, each repetition meant to dig deeper into my guilt.

I let him lash out. Pretending to be the shattered widow was easier. Let him think I was too broken to fight back.

One lonely evening, I found myself in a smoky pub tucked along the outskirts of the werewolf capital. My fingers circled a glass of amber whiskey, the burn offering temporary relief. Then I spotted them—Jaime and Velma. They were seated intimately in a booth, completely exposed in their affair. His hand was draped over hers, their laughter low and secretive.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them like this, but the sting never faded. Velma had always lingered on the edges of our lives, even before Jaime and I were forced into marriage. Our bond was never forged in love; it was a calculated move from my grandfather—Alpha Zach of the Brightstone pack—to unite two powerful clans. I had been nothing more than a tool to solidify political ambitions.

Unable to watch any longer, I downed the last of my drink and stepped outside. The city was humming with energy, but I walked through it like a ghost.

Then my phone rang.

“She’s dead,” came Moises’ voice—my grandfather’s most trusted man. His tone was low and burdened.

My breath caught. “Who?”

“The midwife. The one who delivered your baby. She disappeared, remember? We found out she was murdered the day after she vanished. It wasn’t random—someone silenced her.”

The world tilted beneath me. “Find out who did it,” I said, my voice ice-cold, trembling beneath the surface.

After ending the call, I made my way toward the Blackthorn estate. My grandfather was waiting in the entry hall, tall and commanding, his presence unmistakable.

“Where’s Jaime?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over me with practiced scrutiny.

“Resolving an internal dispute,” I lied smoothly, not missing a beat.

He narrowed his eyes but nodded. “When he returns, inform him that the council has summoned him to Brightstone for a meeting. And Ellen…” For a moment, his voice gentled, revealing the man who once read me bedtime stories. “I miss her too. Terry… she was precious to all of us.”

A knot formed in my chest. I forced a smile. “I know, Grandpa. I miss her every day. But I’m doing my best to keep going.”

He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “The elders will be expecting news soon,” he said, meaning only one thing. “It’s time to give the pack an heir.”

I gave a solemn nod as he pressed a kiss to my forehead and turned to leave.

Hours later, Jaime stumbled into the house, the sharp scent of liquor clinging to him like smoke. His shirt was half-untucked, and he barely managed to close the door behind him.

“There’s my beautiful Luna,” he slurred, draping an arm around me. “Still up? You visit Terry today?”

His touch made my skin crawl, but I responded with practiced grace. “I brought her daffodils. Your father stopped by earlier. He wants you at the next Brightstone council session.”

He grunted, waving his hand carelessly. “Always more meetings,” he mumbled, already swaying on his feet.

I reached up, cupping his cheek, letting my voice soften with false warmth. “Jaime,” I said sweetly, watching his pupils try to focus on me, “what if we tried again? For another child.”

His expression faltered, breaking through the fog of alcohol. “A… another baby?” he repeated, his voice uneven and cautious.

Ellen's POV

“Yes,” I replied, my voice slicing through the quiet like the edge of a dagger. My face remained emotionless, though inside I relished the hint of fear that flickered in Jaime’s eyes. He paced the room in agitation, his steps erratic, resembling a wild animal trapped in a cage, desperately seeking a way out. “Terry is gone, Jaime. Who will now claim the Blackthorn legacy?”

He halted abruptly and turned to face me, his features softening into a practiced look of false warmth. Once upon a time, that expression might have convinced me. But not anymore.

“My Luna, Ellen,” he murmured, his voice oozing artificial sweetness. He reached out to take my hand, his gesture deliberate, every move choreographed. “We’re both mourning. Terry was our world. Don’t you think it’s too early? I’m just not ready—”

“Is that really why?” I interrupted, my tone sharp and low like a blade sliding between ribs.

His carefully built mask cracked for a second. His jaw locked, and a hardness entered his eyes. “You don’t grasp the weight of grief,” he barked, the bitterness in his voice catching me off guard. “Did you even care for her? Or is this just another power play for your Luna title? Barely two months since her death, and you're already talking about replacements? It’s vile. Cold-hearted.”

The words pierced me, but I didn’t let it show. I forced tears to form, letting them shine in my eyes, and made my voice shake deliberately. “How dare you question how much I loved her? I devoted every part of myself to Terry—everything!” I paused, then softened my voice ever so slightly. “But I’m not just a grieving mother, Jaime. I carry the title of Luna. We are exposed without an heir. The council has made that painfully clear.”

He let out a hollow, bitter chuckle, his eyes scanning me with growing disdain. “The council,” he repeated with a sneer. “They’re obsessed with bloodlines and protocol. They couldn’t care less about our loss. About Terry. About us.”

There was no “us” anymore, but I left that unsaid. Instead, I stepped closer, pressing a hand to his chest, pushing down the nausea rising in me.

“Jaime,” I murmured, voice quivering with feigned fragility, “if we don’t take action soon, the Moonstone’s power will dwindle. Blackthorn will crumble.”

He stared at me for several long moments, his expression unreadable. Then he stepped away. “Fine,” he muttered reluctantly. “We’ll talk more about this after the council meeting. I need to prepare.”

I watched him go, my gaze hard and unyielding.

---

Days slipped by, then weeks. Jaime continuously dodged any conversation about having another child. His excuses were thin, worn, and unconvincing. I saw the truth clearly—he never planned to do what the role demanded.

The council’s warning echoed in my mind—without an heir within two years, I would forfeit my position as Luna. Worse, the Moonstone’s protective strength, shared between the Blackthorn and Brightstone packs, would become compromised.

One afternoon, I came home to the packhouse earlier than usual. The sight that greeted me froze the blood in my veins. Velma emerged from the master bedroom, her complexion ghostly and her hair a mess. Jaime appeared behind her, his shirt halfway open. For a brief moment, his face betrayed panic before he quickly composed himself.

“Luna Ellen,” Velma said shakily, avoiding my stare.

Jaime jumped in too fast, his tone overly casual. “It’s nothing,” he said, flashing that detestable smile. “Velma was just—”

“Don’t waste your breath,” I cut in sharply, my voice like frost. I turned and began walking away. “I’m heading to the Blackfang territory. They requested assistance with the border conflict. Let the council know I’ll be managing the matter personally.”

I heard him call out after me, his voice laced with desperation—but I didn’t turn back.

---

The journey to Blackfang was perilous. Rogues had been spotted roaming near the territory, and two warriors were assigned to protect me. Surprisingly, Jaime had offered to accompany me—his sudden display of care made every instinct scream in warning. “When you return,” he had said smoothly, “we’ll begin trying for another child.”

Was that a promise—or a threat?

Two days into the journey, our group was ambushed. The attack came without warning, swift and silent. Shadows darted between trees. Beta Dhan yelled for me to escape, raising his sword to intercept the attackers. I nodded and bolted, running into the forest. I wasn’t far when searing pain stopped me in my tracks—a sudden arrow embedded in my abdomen. I looked down, horrified, as blood blossomed across my clothes.

From the darkness, Jaime emerged. A bow rested in his grip, a sinister smile twisting his features.

“Jaime,” I gasped, my voice a thread. “You... how could you?”

He tilted his head, mocking me. “How?” he repeated, amused. “Because you’ve always been so gullible, Ellen. And I can’t have you running to the council, ruining my plans over a meaningless affair.”

I tried to shift into my wolf form, but my body refused. Poison laced the arrow’s tip—I could feel it draining my strength, paralyzing me. I stumbled forward, agony coursing through me as I struggled to remain upright.

Jaime raised the bow again, drawing back another arrow, this one aimed directly at my heart.

“You’ll regret this,” I hissed through gritted teeth, every word heavy with rage.

He smiled with savage delight, a predator savoring the inevitable. “Farewell, my Luna.”

The arrow flew, striking true. Darkness crept in, swallowing the world around me. But as my body gave in, my mind clung to a singular, burning vow: You will pay for this, Jaime. I swear it on everything that remains.