When I learned once again that the pup growing in my womb was actually conceived from my mate's seed and his new lover's egg through the Moon-Rite, I didn't lose control like before.

I didn't let my wolf surface in a violent frenzy, didn't claw at my own belly until the pregnancy failed.

Instead, I chose to be obedient. I carried the pup to term. I gave birth to him.

From that moment on, I became the subject of whispers throughout the entire upper pack circles, feeding gossip to countless Howl-Channels across the territories.

Every unfaithful Alpha hoped to find a mate as accommodating as me.

Omega mistresses throughout the dens burned offerings to the moon, praying they could seduce my mate.

Pack matriarchs looked upon me as a disgrace to our kind.

Until the tenth moon passed, and I safely delivered the pup.

The moment I emerged from the birthing chamber, Fenris Hawthorne kissed my forehead with the same gentle tenderness he always displayed in public.

"Lyra fears the pain of whelping, and you can no longer carry pups of your own. It works out perfectly—you can bear our young for us."

"Don't worry. She only wants to be a mother. She won't threaten your position as the Alpha's mate. You're still the one I love most."

Everyone said I had loved Fenris so deeply, so completely, that when I couldn't defeat the other Omega, I simply joined them.

But only I knew the truth.

This pup was forced upon me by Matriarch Morwen Hawthorne, who invoked the Blood-Debt I owed her from years ago.

Now the Hawthorne Pack's firstborn heir had arrived.

The Bond Rejection she promised me should finally take effect.

——

The numbing herbs wore off, and pain dragged me from unconsciousness.

The moment I opened my eyes, Fenris stood there cradling the pup, his face bright with joy.

"My mate, the Matriarch has already chosen a name for our pup. Just add your claw-mark here, and he can be registered in the pack records."

He handed me the birth registry.

When I saw the name inscribed there—Rowan Ashvale—my foggy mind snapped into sharp clarity.

Rowan.

A name meaning steadfast growth, unwavering roots.

That was the beautiful hope I had held for my own unborn son.

It represented everything we once dreamed our love could become.

It was the name written into the Hawthorne bloodline records, reserved for thirteen generations of firstborn heirs.

Years ago, to save Fenris from the rogues who had captured him, I took a blade meant for him. The wound damaged something deep inside me. After that, I could never carry pups naturally again.

Our first Moon-Rite pup—the one that came later—was lost when I caught him tangled with my half-sister Lyra Ashvale on our mating bed. He shoved me in his rage. I bled too much. The healers had no choice but to force an early birth.

That pup had already taken form. A male.

After my recovery, I planned to build him a cairn and have his name-stone placed in the ancestral grounds.

But the moon-seers said he hadn't reached full term before his spirit departed. The timing was unfavorable. We needed to wait.

That wait stretched beyond a full year.

Throughout this pregnancy, Fenris had whispered in my ear countless times, saying he wanted to give this pup—this child of his betrayal—the name Rowan.

I never agreed.

But now, seeing the eager anticipation in his eyes, I felt only disgust at the memory of my own desperate tears from before.

I knew the Matriarch would never have chosen this name herself.

It was simply Lyra, who loved to steal everything that belonged to me, whispering her wishes into Fenris's ear.

The Bond Rejection was already sealed and certain. The surname of a faithless Alpha-father meant nothing to me anymore.

"Whatever you want. Call him whatever you like."

"I have only one condition. Don't list me as the pup's mother. My true-born son's spirit would be displeased."

Fenris paused. A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes.

"Selene, don't worry. I only used her because she shares half your bloodline. She and I—"

Before he could finish, a crash echoed from beyond the door.

"You scheming little wretch! Who gave you permission to be here!"

Lyra had been knocked to the ground. She lay there sobbing.

"I only wanted to see the pup."

Matriarch Morwen struck her repeatedly with her walking staff, the carved wood cracking against flesh.

"Get out!"

In that instant, Fenris reacted like a wolf caught in a hunter's trap. Without even handing the pup to the attendant, he simply dropped the newborn onto my body and bolted from the room.

The freshly sealed wound across my belly tore open under the sudden weight. A searing, bone-deep agony ripped a scream from my throat.

But he left as though he heard nothing at all.

He threw himself without hesitation beneath the old woman's silver-tipped cane, shielding Lyra Ashvale behind him with a protectiveness that made every comforting word he'd spoken to me moments ago seem like a cruel joke.

"Grandmother! The plan was my idea—I did it for the Hawthorne Pack! Don't hurt someone innocent!"

Matriarch Morwen Hawthorne froze, her sharp gaze instinctively cutting toward me.

When she saw the white sheets soaking through with blood, she brought the cane down hard across Fenris Hawthorne's back.

"You beast! Her wounds haven't healed—how could you let her hold the pup!"

Panic and regret flashed through Fenris's eyes. He moved to rush toward me.

But behind him, Lyra Ashvale crumpled to the ground.

He faltered, then gathered her into his arms, ready to leave.

The Matriarch planted herself firmly in his path.

"You will not leave! Your mate is still in there! Do you even want this pack anymore!"

Fenris's eyes swam with conflict.

"I do! But you struck her—she's injured! I can't just abandon her! Selene... she has you. She'll be fine!"

Once, he had sheltered me from every storm just like this.

Once, I would never have been the one left behind.

I swallowed the pain and looked at him with empty calm.

"Grandmother, let him go."

He seemed stunned that I would be so generous.

After all, in the past, I had thrown tantrums, begged on my knees, cast away every shred of dignity just to keep him from walking away.

His expression grew complicated. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but in the end, he strode out without another word.

The healer's assistant and the pup-nurse helped me tend to my wounds again.

The pup was soothed back to sleep.

My communication crystal suddenly pulsed with his message.

[I forgot about your wounds. I'm sorry. I just didn't want a scene at the Healer's Ward—it would damage the Hawthorne Pack's reputation.]

[Lyra hasn't woken yet. She needs someone with her, so I won't come back tonight. Rest well.]

I stared at the glowing words for a long time.

I remembered how he used to be. When he learned I'd been hurt while he was in distant territory, he'd traveled eleven hours by skyship, canceled every alliance meeting, just to accompany me to a simple examination. He hadn't left my side for even a moment.

Seeing me sigh, the Matriarch snatched the crystal away.

She read those cold words and let out a harsh scoff.

"That wretched pup! When he returns, I'll deal with him myself. Selene, don't worry, Grandmother will—"

I laughed suddenly, cutting her off. My gaze was steady as I met her eyes.

"You allowed all of this, didn't you?"

"I don't care what happens to him anymore. You promised me—once I bore this pup, you would help me sever the bond. I hope you keep your word."

Her expression faltered. Deep guilt pooled in her eyes.

"Grandmother has wronged you."

"I already tricked him into marking the rejection documents. Complete your thirty days of recovery, and then you may leave."

The Matriarch took the pup into her own care, personally arranging for attendants.

I stayed at the recovery den under the guise of post-birth healing, avoiding the worst of the gossip.

But that very night, word spread through every pack circle: the Hawthorne Alpha Heir had abandoned his mate right after she whelped, defying the Matriarch Regent herself to protect his Omega mistress—his mate's own half-sister.

Hawthorne territory tributes began to dwindle. Pack allies grew hesitant. Fenris was drowning in damage control.

Lyra Ashvale's Howl-Channel—her carefully cultivated platform as a courtship influencer—was overrun by furious wolves. The scandal I had once exposed myself, about her seducing her sister's mate, resurfaced from where Fenris had buried it.

The pack networks howled with condemnation. If Fenris hadn't intervened, her channel would have been stripped and she'd owe breach-penalties to every sponsor.

Seven days passed before I saw him again.

The moment he laid eyes on me, disappointment twisted his features.

"Selene Ashvale. Does destroying us like this really make you happy?"

I blinked, then understood. He had pinned the spreading rumors on me.

Of course he had. After all, I'd once served as a Pack Scribe—shaping narratives and fanning flames was what I did best.

What a pity that the first time I'd gone mad and exposed his shameful affair with Lyra Ashvale, he'd used accusations of privacy violation and reputation damage to pressure the pack's Chronicle Hall into casting me out.

Now finding anyone willing to help me was no simple matter.

I cast him a sidelong glance, long past the wounded feelings of being wrongly accused.

My hands continued their work on the anniversary memorial gift for Rowan.

"You should know there's more than one piece of evidence about your disgraceful entanglement with her. If I wanted to expose it all, you'd probably have to bleed territory rights again."

He stood frozen in the doorway for a long while.

His voice emerged with something close to helplessness.

"After this is over, I'll sever ties with her. But you have to promise me—we'll live well together from now on, alright? Once the pup arrives, we'll be a happy family."

These words—he'd spoken them nearly every day during my pregnancy.

Yet it never stopped him from remaining tangled up with Lyra Ashvale.

Either he pitied her status as an illegitimate half-blood daughter, or he felt sorry for her loneliness without a true pack to rely on.

In short, he had ten thousand reasons for being unable to resist her, for shielding her at every turn.

He remained standing in the doorway, as if he wouldn't leave until I answered.

Watching him block the pale morning light filtering through the den's windows, I gave him a half-hearted response.

It wasn't until the next morning, when scent-forged footage of my supposed infidelity spread like wildfire across every pack's howl-channels, that I understood what he'd meant by "after this is over."

Fenris Hawthorne had released a clarification announcement.

In the recording, he spoke to the gathered pack representatives with grief-stricken composure, claiming I had been caught by my younger sister engaging in a heat-tryst with another wolf during my pregnancy. He said I'd spread false rumors about him in retaliation for being discovered.

Lyra Ashvale wept so prettily, tears streaming down her delicate face, saying she had only tried to counsel me against betraying Fenris's devotion. But I had mistaken her concern for a threat to expose my adultery and struck back in vengeance.

Every wolf across the territories demanded that Fenris reject our bond immediately—cast out this shameless Omega.

Yet he maintained his devoted Alpha facade.

"No matter what wrongs Selene commits in this lifetime, I cannot stop loving her."

Watching his hypocritical performance, I couldn't hold back the bile rising in my throat.

Fenris heard the sound from outside the chamber door and rushed in.

"What's wrong?"

I frowned, catching sight of Lyra Ashvale trailing behind him, and shook off his hand.

"Nothing's wrong. I just find you revolting. To protect your hidden Omega consort's crimes, you'd spare no effort to destroy your mate's reputation. Fenris, your love is truly magnificent."

His face went deathly pale. His mouth opened as if to explain.

But Lyra suddenly dropped to her knees, weeping like spring rain on white blossoms.

"I'm sorry, sister. This is all my fault! Brother-in-law only made you the scapegoat because of me."

Fenris's heart instantly melted with pity. His gaze turned sharp with reproach as he looked at me.

"I came here specifically to tell you about this. All of it was glamour-forged—scent mimicry layered over fabricated footage. When it comes down to it, she's your blood sister. Sacrificing yourself to help her is only right. When I help her, I'm helping you preserve your bloodline ties. Why must you be so aggressive toward her?"

"Besides, you're just a domestic Omega now. Reputation means nothing to you. Outsiders wagging their tongues won't affect my feelings for you. As long as I know it's false, that's enough. But she's different—she has no pack to rely on, and she depends on the howl-channels for her livelihood. If her image and standing are ruined, everything she's built will collapse."

Listening to his self-righteous justifications, I felt only disgust.

A domestic Omega—and whose doing was that?

Back then, he hadn't just pressured the Chronicle Hall into casting me out. He'd also spread word through every pack's communication networks that anyone who employed me would be making an enemy of the Hawthorne Pack.

I was turned away from every position I sought. When I finally found work with a small, independent den archive, he filed malicious complaints against us with the Pack Council.

In the end, all my credentials as a Pack Chronicler were revoked. I became an outcast that every wolf in the profession scorned.

I had no desire to argue with him. The healing attendant had said I needed to maintain a peaceful spirit during my recovery from the birth. In half a month's time, I would finally be free of all this.