Irin's POV

“Please, answer the call. Answer the call, Dixon!” I choked out, my hands trembling as I pressed against the gaping wound in my son’s stomach. Blood seeped between my fingers, warm and slick, as his tiny body trembled against me. His breathing was shallow, his skin deathly pale.

"Baby, stay with me, okay? Daddy's coming," I whispered, my voice breaking as tears blurred my vision.

With my bloodied hands, I fumbled for my phone, my fingers slick and clumsy. It slipped once, but then—finally—it connected.

“Alpha, where are you?!” I gasped the moment the call went through. "Elijah needs you! He’s losing so much blood! We—we’re hiding in a cave. A rogue—”

“I’m coming,” Dixon cut in. “Just hold on. Where exactly are you?”

“The cave past the park… Please, Dixon. Our son—he’s fading,” I begged, my voice raw.

“Stay there. I’ll be—” He trailed off.

Then, I heard it. A woman’s voice in the background.

“Alpha, I need your help.”

My blood ran cold. I knew that voice.

Candice.

Dixon’s first love. His estranged mate. The woman who had abandoned him on their wedding day.

Why is she there?

“Canny?” Dixon’s voice softened, laced with something that shattered me from the inside out. Longing.

“Please, Alpha. There’s an attack in the park! Trevor—my son—he’s trapped. You have to help him!”

My breath caught. A child. She had a child? But Dixon wouldn’t—he wouldn’t choose someone else’s kid over his own.

Right?

“Canny, don’t worry,” Dixon said. “I’ll send my best warriors. But I have to go. My son is waiting for me.”

Relief flooded me. “See, baby?” I whispered, brushing Elijah’s damp curls from his forehead. “Daddy’s coming.”

Elijah’s lips twitched into a weak smile, hope flickering in his tired eyes.

But then Candice spoke again.

“Trevor isn’t just my son, Dixon. He’s ours.”

A deafening silence filled the call. My pulse pounded in my ears.

No. No, she’s lying.

“What are you talking about?” Dixon’s voice was sharp with disbelief. “That’s not possible—”

“I never told you,” Candice said, her voice thick with bitterness. “Because of your parents. They never wanted me, Dixon. They forced me out. They wanted you to marry the daughter of the Wolfcane Pack—the same pack that slaughtered my father. I had no choice but to hide my pregnancy from you. If your parents had known, they would have killed me, Dixon! They would have killed our son.”

Lies.

Lies!

My father never killed anyone!

“Dixon—” I tried to speak, to reach for him, to remind him of who we were.

But his voice turned cold. Unforgiving.

“I’ll send someone.”

And then the line went dead.

The phone slipped from my fingers.

No.

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Dixon wouldn’t abandon us. Not for her. Not for a son he never even knew existed.

But the way he’d said it—so detached, so final—felt like a dagger plunging straight through my heart.

I barely had time to process it before Elijah’s weak voice pulled me back.

“Mommy… is Daddy coming?”

My chest caved in.

I wanted to lie. I wanted to tell him that his father was on his way, that everything would be okay, that this wasn’t happening.

But I couldn't.

Because I wasn’t sure anymore.

Tears burned down my cheeks as I held my son closer, my own wounds screaming in protest. Blood coated my side, my leg—too much. I was weak. Too weak to fight. Too weak to run.

And rogues were out there. Circling. Waiting.

But what broke me wasn’t the fear.

It was knowing that my son—our son—was dying in my arms. And his father…

His father wasn’t coming.

I swallowed back my sobs, forcing a trembling smile. “Your father… he’s just busy,” I lied, my voice barely a whisper.

Elijah nodded, his lashes fluttering. “It’s okay, Mommy. I don’t… I don’t want to see you cry.”

His breathing hitched. Slowed.

No.

Panic surged through me, and I pressed harder against his wound, desperate. “Baby, stay with me. You’re going to be fine. Just hold on.”

He smiled. A tiny, fragile thing.

And then…

His eyes fluttered closed.

And his heartbeat—

Slowed.

Irin’s POV

No one came to save us.

In that dark, cold cave, I watched my son take his last breath. I screamed. I cried until my throat was raw, my body shaking as I did everything—everything—to keep him alive.

I begged the Moon Goddess to save him. But she never answered.

She never did.

By the time my sister arrived with our pack warriors, it was too late. I barely registered her sobbing when she saw Elijah’s lifeless body. The healer tried to revive him, but I knew—I felt—that my baby was already gone.

I just sat there, staring. Unmoving. Numb.

Tears streamed down my face, but I felt nothing. Nothing but a hollow, gaping wound inside me that no amount of time could ever heal.

My sister took me back to the pack. That was when she told me—Alpha Dixon’s warriors had been slaughtered. They never stood a chance against the rogues.

She had rushed to find me the moment she heard what happened.

I should have called her.

Not Dixon.

If I had, Elijah would still be alive.

I was a fool. A stupid, naive fool to believe he would come for us. That he would choose his own son over her.

Dixon was strong. He was powerful enough to tear through those rogues like they were nothing. But he didn’t.

He chose.

He fucking chose the woman who had once abandoned him.

Now, a week later, I stood before my son’s grave, staring at his name carved into stone. I hadn’t returned to the Alcoven Pack. I hadn’t answered any of Dixon’s calls or replied to his messages demanding to know where I was, saying we needed to talk.

Talk?

What was there to talk about?

There was nothing left.

I was nothing. A hollow shell of the woman I used to be. When I lost my son, I lost myself.

One morning, as I lay curled up in bed, staring at the wall, my father entered my room. His voice was steady, but I could hear the weight behind his words.

“Alpha Dixon is coming.”

I didn’t react. Didn’t move.

I just kept staring, wishing—wishing—that I could have died with Elijah.

But instead, I was here. Alive. And angry.

Angry at myself.

Angry at Dixon.

“What does he want?” I murmured, my voice hoarse, each word feeling like an effort.

“You are still the Luna of the Alcoven Pack,” my father said. “You have responsibilities.”

Responsibilities.

I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. My own father was talking about responsibilities when my world had just ended.

He closed the door behind him, and I slowly forced myself out of bed.

I pulled on a black dress, tying my hair into a tight bun. Then I stared at my reflection, at the dark circles under my eyes, the lifeless look in them. I applied makeup, covering the evidence of my grief, masking the pain.

I would not let Dixon see how broken I was.

When he arrived, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as if that could fix anything. His green eyes—ones I had once loved—held hope. The same shade of green as the forest where I first saw him.

But I felt nothing.

I forced myself to smile. But I couldn’t.

I wanted to tear him apart. To make him feel the pain I did.

“Where’s Elijah?” he asked.

The name—my son’s name—felt like a blade slicing through my chest, bringing back the memories.

The cave. The blood. My desperate prayers.

I let out a laugh, sharp and hollow, full of nothing but bitterness and pain.

Dixon frowned. “Luna, that’s not the answer I wanted.”

Luna.

As if that title meant a damn thing anymore.

“You’re looking for Elijah?” I whispered, my voice dripping with acid.

His brows furrowed. “Did you not hear me? What’s wrong with you?” He reached for me, but I took a step back.

The movement stunned him.

Then it hit him. His expression shifted as realization dawned in his eyes.

“You’re mad because I didn’t come,” he said, his voice softer now. “I can explain—there’s a reason I’m here.”

I ignored him. “Did you get the letter?”

His brows knitted together. “Letter?”

“Elijah’s funeral.”

Silence.

His face drained of color. His lips parted, but no words came out.

You never came.

I swallowed, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “You never came when he was dying. And you never came when he was already dead.”

My voice cracked, and I took a deep breath, refusing—refusing—to break in front of him. He didn’t deserve to see the wreckage he had left behind.

He raked his fingers through his hair, struggling for words. His wolf was howling inside him, aching at the sight of mine.

Because she was grieving.

Dying inside.

The bond between us had weakened—nearly snapped.

And he felt it, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Sorry?

A laugh ripped from my throat.

“Sorry?” My voice shook with fury, with agony. “You killed him, Dixon.”

His expression darkened. “Don’t accuse me of that.”

“You killed him!” I shouted, my body trembling, rage burning through every fiber of my being.

That was when he snapped.

He grabbed my arm, his grip tight, his emerald eyes blazing with anger. “Don’t. I didn’t kill him, Irin! You’re lucky I even considered him my son.”

The world stopped.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Irin’s POV

Dixon shoved a folded piece of paper against my chest.

“I ran a test on Elijah,” he said, his voice cold. “This confirms the truth.”

He let go of me, and my hands trembled as I unfolded the paper, my heart pounding so loudly I could barely hear my own thoughts.

DNA results.

A test between Dixon and Elijah.

I froze. My vision blurred as I scanned the report.

No.

My head shook violently. “No… This is a lie! This isn’t true! Elijah is yours!”

“This is fake! How can you believe this?” I gasped, my wolf thrashing inside me, trying to reach out to Dixon’s wolf—only to be met with a wall.

He had blocked me.

He shut me out.

Fury ignited in my chest. My hands clenched the paper, and before I could stop myself, I ripped it into pieces, shredding the lie apart.

Dixon scoffed. “That’s your reaction? Really?” His voice dripped with disbelief and rage. “Irin, I can’t believe this. You’re a liar! Who is his father? Why the fuck did you lie to me? I was raising another man’s son!”

His hands curled into fists, shaking with restrained violence. But then—he laughed. A bitter, painful laugh.

“It’s not true,” I whispered, my throat tight. “Elijah is yours! That test—it was manipulated! Someone set this up!”

“Bullshit!” he roared, his voice like a growl ripping through the air. “You’re a whore. A liar. I ran three fucking tests! Three! And they all said the same thing.” His breathing was ragged, his nostrils flaring. “Stop making a fool out of me, Irin. I will never forgive you for this.”

I stared at him.

Ten years. Ten years, Dixon.

Had he really never seen it? The way Elijah looked just like him? The same eyes. The same damn smirk.

My lips quivered before I let out a laugh. A hollow, humorless laugh.

Dixon’s face darkened. “Why the hell are you laughing? Do you think this is funny? Was I a joke to you this whole time?! Did you enjoy making a fool of me?”

He was hurting. I saw it in his eyes. He thought I had betrayed him.

But he—he was the one who had betrayed me.

Who had betrayed our son.

“Loved…” I repeated the word, my voice breaking as I looked at him. “You say you loved me. Past tense.”

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

“I still care about you, Irin,” he said stiffly. “And what happened to Elijah… It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t lied to me.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Still, you’ll be punished for lying to me and to the pack.”

I stilled.

“Punished?” I whispered, disbelief laced in my tone.

Was he serious?

I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “Are you even hearing yourself, Dixon? Punished? For what?” My voice cracked, and I jabbed a finger against my chest. “For losing my son?! For grieving?! For carrying all this fucking pain?!”

Tears burned my eyes as I clutched my chest. “You hurt me, Dixon. You destroyed me. You killed me the day you walked away and left Elijah and me to fend for ourselves. And when he died… when he died in my arms…” My voice broke into a sob.

Dixon’s eyes flickered with something—guilt. But he clenched his jaw, hardening himself against it.

“Your son,” he said coldly. “Not mine.”

That snapped something inside me.

“You ASSHOLE!” I screamed.

Without thinking, I grabbed the vase from the table and hurled it at him. It shattered against his chest, shards flying across the room.

Dixon didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, taking it.

“You pathetic, heartless bastard!” My voice shook with rage as I grabbed whatever I could find and threw it at him. “Elijah died because of you! OUR son! OUR son!” My vision blurred, and I could barely see through my tears. “HE. IS. YOUR. SON. You fucking Alpha!”

Dixon’s face paled, his eyes widening slightly.

He hadn’t expected that.

He had always seen me as the soft, graceful Luna—the one who never raised her voice, who never broke decorum.

But now? Now, he had turned me into something else.

Something I didn’t even recognize.

And I hated him for it.

“You fucking Alpha who let our son die!” I choked out, my voice raw with pain. “You say you won’t forgive me? I will never forgive you! You took something from me that will never come back!”

I grabbed another vase—another object, anything—and threw it at him.

“Enough, Luna!” Dixon snapped, lunging forward and grabbing my wrists, stopping me.

“Enough?!” I screamed in his face. “ENOUGH?!” I struggled against his grip, thrashing like a caged animal. “You’re all insensitive bastards! Every single one of you! Elijah is dead! And you—you didn’t even TRY to save him! WHY?!”

Tears streamed down my face. I hated how broken I sounded.

Dixon’s grip tightened. His jaw ticked, his nostrils flaring. “He wasn’t my son,” he hissed. “Stop this nonsense. You’re not in your right mind—”

Before he could finish, I lunged forward and sank my teeth into his hand.

He let out a sharp growl, jerking back as blood spilled from the bite.

“Let me go!” I shrieked, trying to rip free. “I don’t want to see you! I don’t want you near me!”

I gasped for breath, my whole body trembling.

“You killed Elijah,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “You killed our son.”

Dixon’s eyes darkened. His grip on me turned bruising.

“Say that again, Irin,” he growled, his voice dangerously low. “Say it again, and you won’t like what I’ll do to you.”

My sister, Hannah, stormed into the room.

“Let her go, Dixon!” she snapped.

He hesitated. Then, finally, he released me.

Hannah wrapped her arms around me as I trembled in her hold.

“Just leave,” she told him. “Come back when she’s ready.”

Dixon’s jaw clenched. He exhaled sharply before turning on his heel and walking away.

The moment he was gone, Hannah whispered, “I’m here, Irin. He’s gone.”

But I barely heard her.

My mind was stuck in the past—in that cave.

Elijah’s voice. His soft, broken voice as he reached out…

“Daddy… I want to see Daddy…”

Tears blurred my vision.

No matter how many times I had called Dixon that night, he had ignored me.

Left me a message.

'Stop calling. I don’t care.'

I will never forgive him.

Never.