Selene’s POV

Nobody came to rescue us.

Trapped in that icy, pitch-black cavern, I held my son as the final breath left his small chest. I wailed until my lungs burned, sobbed until my voice broke, my body trembling as I desperately fought—fought with every shred of strength—to keep him breathing.

I pleaded with the Moon Goddess to spare him. I begged until I was breathless.

But she never listened.

She never has.

When my sister finally appeared with members of our pack, it was already too late. I barely registered the sound of her cries as her eyes landed on Elior’s lifeless form. The healer did everything she could, tried spell after spell, but I knew. Deep in my bones, I knew he was already gone.

All I could do was sit there.

Frozen.

Empty.

Tears slid down my cheeks, but they brought no comfort. My chest felt hollow—like someone had ripped my heart out and left an aching, endless void that nothing would ever fill.

My sister brought me back to the territory. That’s when she told me what had happened—Alpha Ronan’s men had been slaughtered. The rogues had outmatched them completely. They didn’t even have a chance.

The moment she found out, she had raced to me.

And yet, I hadn’t called her.

I had reached out to Ronan.

If I had just turned to her instead… maybe Elior would still be alive.

But I was stupid. Foolish. So blindly loyal to a man I thought would choose us. A man I thought would save his own child over someone who had once turned her back on him.

Ronan had the power to destroy every last one of those rogues. He could have torn through them without breaking a sweat.

But he didn’t.

He made a choice.

He deliberately chose her—the woman who once left him in ruins.

A full week had gone by. And now, here I was, standing in front of the grave that held my son’s body. His name etched into the cold gray stone, forever frozen in time. I hadn’t gone back to Ashfen Pack. I hadn’t answered a single call. I’d ignored every message from Ronan demanding answers, claiming we needed to talk.

Talk?

What conversation could possibly matter now?

There was nothing left to discuss.

I was nothing now. Just a broken silhouette of the woman I used to be. When my son died, he took the last part of me with him.

One morning, I lay curled up on my bed, facing the wall as silence swallowed the room. That’s when my father walked in.

His tone was calm, but the tension in his voice said everything he didn’t.

“Alpha Ronan’s on his way,” he said quietly.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

I kept staring at the wall, wishing I could’ve taken Elior’s place.

But I was still breathing. Still here. And all I could feel was a deep, simmering rage.

Rage directed at myself.

Rage directed at Ronan.

“What does he want?” I muttered. My voice was scratchy, each syllable heavy and dry like gravel in my throat.

“You’re still the Luna of Ashfen Pack,” my father answered. “You have duties.”

Duties?

A humorless chuckle escaped me. I couldn’t believe that’s what mattered to him—responsibilities—while I was drowning in grief.

He left without another word, closing the door behind him. And somehow, I found the will to move.

I dragged myself out of bed and dressed in black. Pulled my hair into a tight, neat bun. When I looked at my reflection, the lifeless woman staring back didn’t feel like me. Her eyes were empty. Shadows clung beneath them.

I used makeup to hide the damage—to bury the signs of mourning beneath layers of foundation and powder.

Ronan didn’t deserve to see my pain.

He arrived shortly after, pulling me into an embrace like it could erase the past. His arms were firm around me, his expression filled with hope. The same green eyes I once adored—green like the woods where we first met—searched mine.

But I felt... nothing.

I tried to smile.

I couldn’t.

All I wanted was to tear him apart. To drag him into the same agony I had been drowning in.

“Elior? Where is he?” Ronan asked.

Hearing my son’s name again—it was like a dagger to the chest. Images of the cave, the smell of blood, the frantic prayers—I saw it all again.

I laughed.

It was sharp. Empty. Laced with venom.

Ronan’s brows pulled together. “That’s not what I needed to hear, Luna.”

Luna.

As if that word still held weight.

“You’re searching for Elior?” I said quietly, every word soaked in acid.

He frowned. “Didn’t you hear me? What’s wrong with you?” He reached for my arm, but I stepped away.

His confusion was instant.

Then realization swept over him.

“You’re upset because I didn’t come,” he said gently. “Please—I can explain. I’m here now because—”

I cut him off. “Did you receive the letter?”

His forehead creased. “Letter?”

“Elior’s funeral,” I said coldly.

Silence fell between us.

The color drained from his face. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came.

You didn’t come.

I pushed the words past the lump in my throat. “You weren’t there when he needed you. You weren’t there when I was losing him. You weren’t even there when we laid him to rest.”

My voice trembled, but I wouldn’t fall apart—not in front of him. He didn’t get to see the wreckage.

He ran his fingers through his hair, clearly at a loss. His wolf stirred within him, sensing mine’s pain.

Because she was still mourning.

Still breaking.

Our bond was threadbare now—on the verge of snapping.

And he knew it.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

Sorry?

A bitter laugh burst out of me.

“Sorry?” I repeated, my voice cracking under the weight of fury. “You might as well have killed him yourself.”

His eyes darkened. “Don’t say that.”

“You did kill him!” I screamed, my entire body shaking. The pain, the grief—it all surged out of me in one violent wave.

That’s when he lost control.

He gripped my arm roughly, his emerald eyes blazing. “Don’t go there, Selene. Don’t you dare. You’re lucky I even saw him as my own.”

Time stopped.

I froze.

My lungs refused to pull in air.

“What the hell did you just say?”

Ronan slammed a folded document against my chest.

“I had Elior’s DNA tested,” he said, his tone devoid of warmth. “This proves everything.”

He let go abruptly, and my hands trembled as I opened the paper, my pulse thundering so loudly it drowned out every coherent thought.

It was a DNA test.

His name. Elior’s name.

A paternity report.

My limbs went rigid. My vision swam as I read the lines.

No.

I shook my head violently. “No… That’s not true. It’s a lie! Elior is your son!”

“This has been forged! How could you believe this garbage?” I gasped, my wolf thrashing inside me, clawing its way toward Ronan’s wolf—only to be slammed against an impenetrable wall.

He had locked me out.

Shut the bond down completely.

I burned with rage. My grip on the paper tightened, and in a flash, I tore it into jagged pieces, shredding it with every ounce of fury.

Ronan scoffed, disgust written all over his face. “That’s your answer? Seriously?” His voice rose, sharp and furious. “Selene, are you kidding me right now? You lied to me. Who’s the real father? Huh? You had me raising someone else’s kid!”

His fists were clenched so tightly they shook. And then, unexpectedly, he laughed. A bitter, broken sound.

“This isn’t real,” I murmured, my throat closing. “He’s your son! That test—it was tampered with! Someone manipulated it to hurt us!”

“Don’t give me that crap!” he snarled, his voice turning primal. “You’re a filthy liar! I had three tests done, Selene—three separate labs. And they all said the same damn thing.” He was breathing heavily now, his nostrils flaring. “Stop treating me like I’m stupid. I’ll never forgive you for this betrayal.”

I looked at him, stunned.

Ten years, Ronan. A whole decade.

Did he never notice? Elior had his eyes. His smile. Even that infuriating smirk.

I laughed. Dry and hollow, without a trace of humor.

His face twisted in anger. “What the hell is funny to you right now? Do you think this is some kind of joke? Was I your little game all along? Did you enjoy making a fool out of me?”

He was hurting—I could see it in the tremble behind his fury.

But he wasn’t the only one.

He had shattered me.

He had abandoned our child.

“You said you loved me,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Loved. Past tense.”

His jaw tightened, but he stayed silent.

“I still care about you,” he said eventually, cold and rigid. “But if you had just told the truth, maybe Elior wouldn’t have—” He didn’t finish. Just shook his head and looked away. “Regardless, you’re going to face consequences. You lied to me. And to the pack.”

I froze.

“Consequences?” I repeated, stunned. “Are you serious right now?”

I let out a weak, breathless laugh, eyes narrowing. “You’re actually talking about punishment?” My voice cracked with disbelief. “For what? For mourning my child? For feeling pain so deep I can barely breathe?”

My fingers dug into my chest as tears burned behind my eyes. “You shattered me, Ronan. You ripped me apart the moment you turned your back on us. You walked away. You let us face those monsters alone. And then he… he died in my arms…” My words broke into sobs.

Ronan’s eyes flickered—just for a moment—with guilt. But then his expression hardened again.

“He wasn’t my child,” he said, ice in his voice. “He was yours.”

Something inside me snapped.

“You HEARTLESS BASTARD!” I screamed.

I grabbed a nearby vase and hurled it at him. It shattered as it struck his chest, shards scattering across the room.

Ronan didn’t flinch. Didn’t dodge.

“You cold, unfeeling monster!” I shrieked, my hands grabbing whatever I could find to throw. “Elior is dead! He died because of you! Because of YOU! He was OUR son! Don’t you dare deny it!” My vision blurred completely. I couldn’t see anything but grief. “HE. WAS. YOURS. You arrogant, useless Alpha!”

His expression went pale. His lips parted ever so slightly.

He hadn’t seen this version of me before.

He had always imagined me as the perfect Luna—the quiet one. Gentle. Dignified.

Now he was looking at the woman he had broken.

And I loathed him for it.

“You let him die!” I choked. “You didn’t lift a single finger to save our child! And now you talk about punishment? You think I need forgiveness? I will never forgive you! You stole my son—you stole the life I had with him!”

I grabbed another vase—whatever my hand landed on—and hurled it at him again.

“That’s ENOUGH, Luna!” Ronan barked, surging forward and seizing my wrists.

“Enough?!” I screamed directly in his face, my entire body thrashing. “You have the nerve to say enough? All of you are the same! You selfish, cold-hearted Alphas!” I struggled against his grip like a wild thing. “Elior is gone! And none of you—not even you—fought to save him! Why, Ronan? Why didn’t you come?”

My tears were hot, endless. I hated the way my voice cracked, how broken I sounded.

His grip turned harsh. His voice lowered, venom dripping from each syllable. “He wasn’t mine,” he hissed. “Stop the delusion. You’re not thinking straight—”

Before he could finish, I lunged forward and bit into his hand.

He let out a sharp sound of pain, wrenching away as blood trickled down.

“Let me go!” I screamed, panting and sobbing. “I don’t want you here! I don’t want to see your face again!”

My entire body trembled as I gasped for air.

“You let Elior die,” I whispered, barely able to speak. “You let our son die…”

His eyes darkened, rage swirling in them. His grip became painful.

“Say that again,” he growled. “Say it one more time and see what happens.”

Suddenly, my sister Hannah burst into the room.

“Get your hands off her, Ronan!” she barked.

He faltered, holding me for a second longer before releasing me.

Hannah rushed to my side, wrapping her arms tightly around me as I collapsed into her.

“Leave,” she told him. “Come back when she asks for you. Not before.”

His jaw tensed. He said nothing as he turned away and stormed out.

The moment the door slammed shut, Hannah whispered, “He’s gone, Selene. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

But her voice was distant.

My mind was somewhere else.

Back in that cave.

Back to that night.

Elior’s soft, trembling voice haunted me again.

“Daddy… I want to see Daddy…”

My vision blurred again with fresh tears.

I had called Ronan. Again and again.

He never answered.

He left one message.

“Stop calling. I don’t care.”

And that—

That was the moment I knew:

I would never, ever forgive him. Never.

Selene’s POV

It had been ninety days since Elior was taken from me—since my world lost all color, all meaning.

Grief had wrapped itself around me like a tight, unrelenting shroud, suffocating every breath. I could barely recognize the reflection that stared back from the mirror: pale, gaunt, empty-eyed. My frame had withered, my clothes now hung off me like they belonged to someone else. But what tore me apart the most wasn’t the weight loss.

It was the silence.

No echoes of laughter down the hallway. No tiny feet pattering across wooden floors. No soft bedtime murmurs whispering, “Mommy, I love you.”

Only a devastating void.

Then, a week ago, Hannah revealed something that didn’t just deepen my grief—it transformed it into a wildfire of rage.

Ronan was throwing an extravagant party.

For Gabriel.

His “son.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. That boy? His son?

Ronan had once thrown a nearly identical celebration for Elior’s eighth birthday. I could still see the joy dancing in Elior’s eyes, the way he had gripped Ronan’s hand like he was the center of the entire universe.

And now?

Now he was doing it all over again—this time for Carmela’s child.

As though Elior had never even existed.

As if our child—born of love, abandoned by his father—was nothing more than a ghost best forgotten.

Ronan hadn’t even brought a single flower to Elior’s grave.

Not one.

Of course he didn’t. He had convinced himself that Elior wasn’t his. Wrapped himself in lies he either created or chose to believe just to appease the woman who had once turned her back on him.

The fury boiled over. Before I could stop myself, my fist connected with the vanity mirror. The glass splintered under my skin, shards embedding in my knuckles.

Blood oozed down to the countertop.

But I felt none of it.

I was numb to pain now.

Earlier that morning, Hannah had handed me a letter. Ronan’s handwriting.

He was asking me to recognize Carmela and her son as part of the pack.

To acknowledge Gabriel as his rightful heir.

I didn’t even flinch.

As soon as I read the last word, I struck a match and burned it to ash.

Then I grabbed a pen and wrote my own message.

This was the only channel he could reach me through now. I had destroyed my phone months ago—burned it like everything else he left behind. The only relic I had kept was a printed photograph of Elior, tucked carefully in an album—the last remaining evidence of the life Ronan shattered.

It was time to go back.

To Ashfen Pack.

My parents had begged me to return for months, hounding me daily with calls and visits. I resisted every time. I had escaped from Dreadshade Pack and vanished into the quiet corners of Thornveil Pack—where nobody knew me.

Except Hannah.

She alone knew where I’d gone.

But that chapter was now closed.

I stepped out of my apartment, gripping my letter tightly. My feet moved on instinct, carrying me through dim alleyways and deserted streets.

I was heading toward the man who held power.

Toward the one who could give me what I needed—except the one thing my soul cried for.

Elior.

I could never hold my son again. But I could ensure justice. And those responsible for our suffering would face their consequences.

The estate rose before me like a fortress, silent and intimidating.

A butler led me inside, guiding me through the sprawling halls and into a grand drawing room.

“Lord Drakemoor will be with you momentarily,” he said politely.

I had barely settled on the divan when the doors opened with a soft creak.

There he stood.

Lord Aldric Drakemoor.

I had expected an elderly man with weary eyes and a tired gait.

But the figure who entered the room was neither frail nor aged.

He was older than Ronan, yes—but far from old. The atmosphere shifted with his arrival, the weight of his presence sucking the air from the room.

Those violet eyes—icy and devoid of warmth—seemed to peer directly into my soul. My wolf whimpered, instinctively recoiling from the immense, dangerous energy radiating off of him.

He was hauntingly beautiful.

Terrifyingly so.

Long, silver hair neatly pulled back. A sleek black coat and matching tie that clung perfectly to his tall, elegant build. And when he smiled… it was a smile that could convince even the most stubborn heart to surrender everything.

Grace cloaked in menace.

“Selene Soltren,” he said, voice like polished glass.

I kept myself composed as he sat across from me.

The butler returned, laying out tea and pastries, but I had no appetite to even glance at them.

“I’ve read your letter,” Aldric began, reclining slightly, one leg resting over the other. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the chair’s armrest. “Are you prepared to follow through on the arrangement?”

I didn’t flinch.

“Yes. I am.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what exactly do you seek in return?”

“The truth,” I answered firmly. “And justice.”

Justice for the child I could never cradle again.

Justice for the baby they buried beneath lies and betrayal.

Ronan thought he could pretend Elior never lived. Thought he could rewrite reality by burying it under manipulated tests and selfish denial.

But I would drag that truth into daylight. And watch it burn him to the ground.

He took Elior from me.

Now I would take everything he valued.

Aldric’s eyes gleamed with a flicker of amusement as he studied me.

“You seem driven by a deeply personal vendetta,” he murmured. “But know this—once the deal is struck, there’s no undoing it.”

“I understand.”

His expression turned solemn. “And you’re ready to trade your life, your freedom—perhaps even your soul—for this?”

Without emotion, I nodded. “I’ve been dead inside for a long time.”

A dark chuckle escaped him.

“I don’t need your soul, Selene,” he said with a smirk. “But I will ask for something else.”

I tensed. “What do you mean?”

His stare darkened, his smile slow and unsettling.

“I can give you everything you asked for,” he replied, voice a quiet threat wrapped in charm. “But not life. That’s beyond any power I possess.” He leaned toward me, eyes gleaming. “As for what I want? Let’s say the stories about me don’t quite capture the whole picture.”

I swallowed hard. “Then tell me—what is it you want from me?”

His grin widened. “Are you offering yourself, Selene?”

I didn’t look away.

“If what you need is my body,” I said, voice unwavering, “then you may have it. Just tell me what the terms are… and I’ll accept them.”