The sound of laughter faded into the forest, swallowed by the wind.

They had gone.

Only one man remained—a beta warrior stationed at a distance, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the treetops rather than me. As if looking at me might turn him to stone. Or worse, force him to feel.

I was alone. Suspended by cruel bindings, my limbs stretched apart until they throbbed. Rough rope cut into raw skin, and each gust of wind sent knives of cold slicing through me. The sweat on my skin turned to frost, and the night gnawed at my bones like hunger left too long unfed.

And then—pain.

Deep. Sharp. Twisting. It started low in my belly and rippled outward like fire moving through dry grass.

A wet heat began to trickle down my thighs.

No…

Not now.

“Help,” I whispered—barely sound, more breath than voice. “Please…”

A contraction slammed into me, tearing a gasp from my throat. I arched against the restraints, the ropes burning into my skin. The cold was nothing now. The pain eclipsed everything.

Still, the beta didn’t turn. Not a glance.

Another wave surged through me, and I cried out, louder this time. “Help me!”

No response.

My vision blurred. My lungs strained to pull air. My baby was coming—too fast. Too soon.

I twisted in the ropes, frantic, sobbing. My hands bound. My legs spread. I couldn’t even protect the life inside me.

A scream tore from my chest as the final contraction crashed through me. I tried to hold on, to clench, to delay—but there was nothing I could do.

And then, it happened.

Something passed through me—warm, alive, heartbreakingly small.

Then the sound.

A wet, heavy slap against frozen earth.

The world held its breath.

I couldn’t see. I didn’t want to.

But I knew.

My child had fallen.

---

Hours earlier, Rydan had stood beneath me—his fury burning like a torch in the darkness.

His eyes, once familiar, now held nothing but contempt. His fists were clenched so tightly the veins in his forearms bulged like ropes.

“This is justice,” he announced to the gathered pack, his voice hard as steel. “For attempting to kill Amara.”

“I didn’t!” My voice cracked as I shouted down at him. “Rydan, I swear on everything—I never touched her! She slipped—she—”

“You always lie, Marian,” he cut in, disgust curling his lip. “You cry, you cling, you spin stories and pretend you’re the victim. But this time, you went too far.”

“Please,” I begged, choking on the words. “You know I loved her. I accepted her. I tried—”

“No!” His voice lashed out like a whip. “You couldn’t bear to see her happy with me. You wanted her gone because she carried the heir you couldn’t give.”

My tears blurred the torchlight, turning their faces into shadows. I couldn’t see who believed him. Maybe none of them did. Maybe it didn’t matter.

“She’s not even breathing,” I whispered. “How could you think I’d do this?”

Rydan stepped closer, his voice lower, more venomous. “You were always a burden. I tolerated you because I had to. You gave me a child, but even that—” he scoffed. “A daughter.”

“She’s still yours,” I whispered, heart breaking.

“I needed a son. And Amara will give me one.”

He turned and walked away then, not bothering to look back. The others followed, silent. No one questioned him. No one helped me.

They left me there, alone. Pregnant. Bound. Condemned.

And when my body betrayed me—when the pain arrived with all the fury of life forcing itself into the world—no one was there to catch her.

A faint, fragile cry broke through the oppressive quiet, slicing into the stillness like a blade. My body seized at once, every muscle locked in terror as a painful breath caught in my lungs.

My child.

“No! Please, no—my baby!” I sobbed uncontrollably, wrenching myself against the bindings that held me tight. Agony flared through my body, my arms on fire from the rope, my legs bent at cruel angles. But I felt none of it. Only the terror.

Down on the forest floor, the beta warrior finally moved. His gaze landed on the tiny, blood-slick figure crumpled on the ground. His face betrayed nothing as he stepped toward the newborn, slow and hesitant.

“Please, pick him up!” I begged, my voice scraped raw by panic. My entire being trembled with desperation. “Don’t just stand there—he’s a baby! Please!”

He hesitated. His fingers twitched, uncertain, then he knelt and cautiously gathered the infant into his arms. For a moment, silence blanketed us again as he examined the motionless form. Then, his brows lifted ever so slightly.

“He’s alive,” the man said flatly, almost like he couldn’t believe it. He turned the infant gently, his hands awkward and unsure. Then he added, his tone softer, “It’s… it’s a boy. A strong one, too.”

My breath faltered. A boy?

Rydan’s son. His heir.

Tears flooded my eyes, distorting the image before me. Whether he was a girl or a boy didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to cradle him, press him against my heart, whisper soft reassurances even though I couldn’t promise safety. But instead, I hung uselessly in the dark, unable to do a thing.

The warrior looked uncomfortable, unsure of how to proceed. He clutched the baby awkwardly, as if the small life in his arms was too much responsibility. My lips trembled. “Please… Please let me down. I just want to hold him.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darting around as though he expected punishment for even considering it. “I’m sorry. I… I can’t. Alpha Rydan gave strict orders. You’re to remain where you are.”

“I’m begging you…” My sob was barely a breath.

He looked from me to the child, now whimpering softly, and finally gave a reluctant nod. “Alright. But I have to inform the Alpha first.”

Still unsure, he removed his coat and gently laid it over a patch of grass. He bent down and placed the infant carefully atop the fabric, arranging it to cushion him from the cold ground.

“I’ll come back,” he promised, already backing away. “I’ll explain everything.”

And with that, he vanished into the trees, disappearing into the night. My breaths came fast and shallow, panic clawing at my throat as I stared at my baby lying alone beneath the moonlight. His tiny cries pierced the air—each one carving into my soul.

Then I heard it. A faint rustle.

My stomach sank.

Every instinct screamed in alarm. The air grew heavier, colder. A presence stirred in the shadows.

Then she appeared.

Amara.

My heart crashed against my ribs as she stepped out of the dark, her lips curling into a smile both slow and malicious.

“Isn’t this tragic?” she mused, cocking her head as she looked up at me. “Dangling like a shattered puppet… forced to witness it all without being able to stop any of it.”

My voice shook. “Don’t touch him,” I warned, barely managing to speak.

She laughed softly, a mocking sound. “Oh, Marian…” she said, stepping closer. “You know I wouldn’t hurt a child. I’m not heartless.”

For a second, I let myself hope.

But the illusion shattered with a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the trees. My eyes snapped to the forest line as the underbrush shifted. Glowing eyes pierced the shadows—predators emerging one by one into the firelight.

Wild wolves. Starving. Bloodthirsty.

Terror gripped me. “No…”

Amara’s smile grew cruel as she stepped aside, watching them advance. “I won’t lay a finger on the boy. But them?” She gestured toward the beasts. “They’re not under my control.”

“NO!” I screamed, thrashing wildly. “You can’t do this! Call them off, Amara! Please!”

She waved a hand dismissively and turned her back to me, walking away like she was done with the show. “Goodnight, Marian. Try not to scream too much—it won’t help.”

“Amara! Please! Stop! Don’t leave!” My voice shattered as it rose—but she didn’t look back.

The wolves circled my baby now. Saliva dripped from their bared teeth, eyes gleaming like coals, steps slow and deliberate as they closed in. My heart tried to break free from my chest.

“Leave him alone!” I screamed, my voice hoarse and wild. “Get AWAY from him!”

But they didn’t care. A chilling snarl rang out.

The baby’s cry tore through the air—sharp, terrified.

And then… silence.

A crack—wet and final.

My mind split.

I could no longer scream. I could no longer breathe.

My baby. My son.

Gone.

My senses blurred. The world around me dimmed, spinning without sound. Where his cries once filled the air, there was now only a terrible silence that clawed into my skull. And then, cruelly, the ropes that had held me so tightly gave way.

I plummeted to the earth.

I landed hard, the wind knocked from my lungs. Shaking, I raised my head, eyes locking on what remained of the tiny form once filled with life.

The wolves turned.

They saw me now.

Their hunger remained.

Tears streaked down my face as I whispered to the sky, voice ragged and broken, “Moon Goddess… why have you turned away from me?”

Then they attacked.

And everything dissolved—

Into cold, eternal dark.

The beta warrior pushed himself through the thick underbrush, lungs burning with each rapid breath. As the lights of the pack's camp came into view, he slowed, scanning the area frantically for any sign of the Alpha. But before he could go any farther, several of Rydan’s guards caught sight of him.

“What are you doing back here?” one of them demanded, eyebrows furrowed. “Weren’t you assigned to watch Marian?”

Another snorted, arms crossed. “Why bother? It’s not like she can go anywhere. She’s securely tied up, and there’s no way off these lands.”

A few of them exchanged mocking smirks, letting out low chuckles. The beta’s mouth opened as he readied to explain—but before he could say a word, a distinct scent drifted toward them, sharp with herbs and earth.

They all turned just in time to see Amara approaching, her steps uneven.

She wore loose, breathable garments that revealed the edges of her bandaged injuries. Layers of salves and herbs clung to her skin, the scent unmistakable. Her movement was labored, each step clearly painful, and her usual air of pride was dulled, her face pale and drawn. Still, she managed a frail smile as she approached the cluster of warriors.

“What’s the commotion about?” she asked, feigning curiosity with practiced ease. “Why are you all gathered here like something urgent happened?”

A warrior stepped forward, speaking without hesitation. “We just returned after dealing with Marian. Gave her what she deserved.”

Amara stopped short, her eyes widening slightly—just enough to seem surprised.

“Dealt with Marian?” she echoed, her voice delicate, touched with disbelief. One hand moved to rest lightly over her heart. “Where’s Alpha Rydan?”

As though her words summoned him, Rydan appeared from the shadows nearby. His imposing form silenced the entire group in an instant. His sharp gaze locked onto the beta warrior, suspicion flaring in his eyes.

“Why are you here instead of fulfilling your assignment?” Rydan barked. “I gave you clear instructions.”

The beta straightened, mouth parting to offer an explanation—but Amara slipped between them, speaking before he could utter a word.

“Rydan,” she said softly, her voice trembling with apparent worry as she looked up at him with wide, imploring eyes. “Is it true? Did you really have Marian punished?”

Rydan’s jaw clenched. “Yes,” he said with conviction. “She had it coming after what she did to you.”

Amara looked down, her hands clasped in front of her.

“I… I don’t hold her actions against her,” she whispered. “Maybe her anger overwhelmed her. She’s carrying a child. That must’ve clouded her thoughts.”

Rydan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re pregnant, too,” he reminded her coldly. “But you don’t behave like that.”

Amara turned her head away, as though the words shamed her. “Perhaps I empathize with her pain,” she murmured. “I don’t want to be the cause of her misery. Leaving her out there, alone… it breaks my heart.”

Her voice was gentle, full of concern, but it only seemed to deepen the scowl on Rydan’s face.

“You’re too soft,” he growled. “Marian needs to understand the consequences of her actions. The last time, you pleaded for her. And what did she do? She nearly killed you—pushed you off a cliff.”

Amara bit her lower lip, seeming to struggle to hold back emotion. “I just don’t want her pain to be because of me…”

Rydan reached out and cradled her face, his touch unexpectedly tender. “She made her own choices,” he told her in a low voice. Then he turned his steely gaze back to the beta warrior.

“You are not to return to her. Leave her where she is. Let her feel the weight of her mistakes.”

The beta hesitated, unease creeping through him, but he gave a stiff nod, unable to go against a direct command.

Pleased, Rydan returned his attention to Amara. He slipped an arm around her waist and gently steered her away from the others. “Come. You need to rest.”

That night, Rydan remained at Amara’s side. They were intimate, though he was careful with her—mindful of the unborn life she carried. Afterward, he pulled her close beneath the sheets, his hand running along her side.

“Don’t think about Marian anymore,” he whispered, brushing a kiss over her shoulder. “You need peace. Focus on yourself and our child.”

Amara gave a bashful nod. “Yes, Alpha. Your wisdom is unmatched. I’ll do as you say.”

The night melted into soft sighs and warm embraces. Rydan held her possessively, pressing her closer, his need to protect her deepening with every breath she took beside him.

But something was off.

He couldn’t place it, but a chill crept over him, spreading like frost beneath his skin. His eyes shifted toward the open window, and he noticed the absence of moonlight.

A moonless night.

He gave a quiet breath, shook off the feeling, and tightened his arms around Amara before surrendering to sleep.

Sleep came swiftly. Too easily.

Until it didn’t.

A sharp, agonized howl cut through the still dawn, followed by urgent voices shouting in the distance. Rydan’s eyes flew open, instincts firing all at once. That eerie sensation from earlier slammed back into him, dragging his thoughts into clarity.

His gaze shot toward the window again—his mind instinctively turning to the place where Marian had been left.

Something was terribly wrong.