Layla

The moment I opened my eyes, the thick stench of damp stone and mildew hit me like a wall.

The cold bite of the underground cell, the water dripping from the ceiling, the iron bars—everything told me I was still here.

Alpha Tristan hadn’t even bothered to take me to a hospital.

I lay on a thin pile of straw that barely passed as a bed. My stomach ached like something inside me had been torn apart.

My vision was blurry, but I could make out a figure by my side—Doctor Carr, adjusting the IV in my arm.

He used to be gentle, kind. Now he looked like a man walking on shards of glass. Like I was a ticking time bomb.

“Ah, you’re awake, Luna,” he said, his voice low but laced with relief—and guilt.

“How long have I been unconscious?” I asked, barely managing a whisper.

Instead of answering, he handed me a folded medical report. Neatly printed, official letterhead and all—Pack Hospital’s seal stamped at the bottom.

I read it slowly. Every sentence sliced deeper than any blade.

Patient exposed to high levels of airborne silver particles... miscarriage confirmed approximately 2–3 hours after maximum exposure... foetus estimated at 3–4 weeks...

My hands shook. I didn’t even know I was pregnant.

I blinked rapidly, willing it all to be a nightmare. But it wasn’t. It was real.

The only night it could’ve happened—was during the last mating season.

Alpha Tristan had come to me drunk, reeking of wine, his eyes bloodshot. He wrapped his arms around me, slurred sweet words, dragged me into bed... and I let him.

I clenched my jaw. Now that memory made my skin crawl.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I whispered. “And Naomi... why haven’t I been taken to see her? What’s going on?”

Dr Carr lowered his gaze. “I’ve... been instructed not to answer questions about that.”

I stared at him sharply, wanting to let my emotions out—but what’s the point? Dr Carr was just following someone else’s orders.

Before he could reply, footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor.

Rovena entered. She looked refreshed—almost radiant.

The burns on her face had all but healed, hidden under flawless makeup. That smug little smirk still sat perfectly on her lips.

“Out,” she ordered coldly. “We need a little girl talk.”

Dr. Carr hesitated, clearly torn, but left anyway.

“I want to see Naomi. Let me out,” I said, my voice trembling.

Rovena didn’t say a word. She just stared at me, her eyes glowing faintly.

Then, I heard her voice—inside my head.

“No need to raise your voice, darling. Words only cloud emotions. Let me show you the truth.”

She reached out and before I could recoil, her fingers brushed my temple.

A surge of magic rippled through the air. The world around me twisted and shifted.

I saw Rovena standing just outside Naomi’s hospital room.

“I’m here on behalf of Luna Layla. She’s currently handling matters with the Rage Willow Pack alongside Alpha Tristan,” she told one of the administrative nurses, who then guided her toward Dr. Francis.

Rovena handed over an official letter of authority, complete with Alpha Tristan’s signature.

“She won’t make it,” Dr. Francis’s voice echoed through the vision. “But we could keep Naomi alive for a few more weeks if—”

“No,” Rovena cut him off sharply. “Alpha Tristan and Luna Layla have instructed me to bring Naomi back to the Pack House.”

“No… NO!” My voice caught in my throat, strangled by dread.

The next image shattered what was left of my heart.

Naomi—my daughter—her tiny body laid out stiff and cold, wrapped in a white blanket.

Rovena stood over her lifeless form, a satisfied smile curling on her lips.

“You and your mother have always been in my way,” she sneered. “Soon enough, your mum will join you in hell.”

“NO, NAOMI!” I screamed. “DAMN YOU, ROVENA!”

"Go ahead and grieve all you want. One pebble out of the way. My child should be Tristan’s heir, not that crippled thing."

Owen. Their bastard child.

My body shook uncontrollably. Tears streamed down my cheeks. The world fell apart around me.

“Please...” I choked. “Let me out. Just tell me where her grave is... please.”

Rovena smiled, slow and predatory, like a lion savouring the last breath of a dying deer.

“You can leave... if you do exactly as I say.”

“Really?” I said quickly, defeated. “I’ll do anything.”

She leaned in close, her breath brushing my ear.

“Starting tomorrow, you’ll scrub the dishes. Muck out the animal stalls. And when Owen cries at night, you’ll be the one to rock him back to sleep. You’ll be his babysitter, Layla. Not the Luna.”

I stared at her, stunned.

She stood straight, smoothed out her designer dress, then headed for the door. Just before stepping out, she turned back with a devilish grin.

“Oh, and don’t forget... Owen’s birthday party is next week. Make sure you show up in your omega uniform, yeah? No acting high and mighty. You’ll be his nanny—in front of the entire pack.”

She gave a little giggle, then vanished beyond the bars.

I collapsed back onto the floor.

The world spun. My heart felt hollow. I hadn’t just lost Naomi.

I’d lost my dignity. My future. Even my identity as her mother.

All that remained... was pain.

But beneath the agony, something else stirred. A flame.

I would endure what I had to—until the day I made them pay.

Layla

I agreed to Rovena’s terms, just so I could know where they buried Naomi. But the storm inside me didn’t fade.

Meanwhile, she was painting her nails a blinding shade of pink, lounging comfortably in what used to be my room.

Used to be. She took it after tossing out all of my belongings.

When I found out she’d tossed away the photo of me, her, and Naomi together, I snapped.

“Who told you to touch my things?” I hissed, pointing straight at her smug, arrogant face.

“Trash belongs in the bin, not in a memory box,” she replied with a sneer.

I slapped her. Hard.

She could hold Naomi’s grave over my head, but throwing away the last pieces of her…

It was like robbing the bones of someone already stripped of flesh.

“We were never cruel to you. I never treated you like this. But you—you crawled your way in like a leech, feeding off our blood.”

“Oh, spare me the melodrama,” she said, laughing bitterly. “Alpha Tristan just needed someone to please him in bed—and an heir without any defects.”

I moved to slap her again, but she grabbed my wrist mid-air.

“One more slap,” she warned, her voice dropping low, “and I’ll bury your daughter’s grave so deep, no one will ever find it.”

“Rovena, love,”

Alpha Tristan’s voice called from the hallway.

He entered a moment later, expression unreadable as his gaze landed on me.

“Is she bothering you again?” he asked flatly.

“No,” Rovena purred. “She knows her place now. Did you need something?”

“I want you to pick the flowers for the hall decoration.”

“Roses. The ones from the garden,” she said sweetly. “And I want Luna Layla to pick them.”

“Fine. I’ll send someone to watch her,” he replied, not even sparing me a glance.

Then he turned to Rovena with a voice dripping in intentional cruelty. “I want you to please me now, Rovena.”

He said it loud enough—just to cut through me.

Rovena didn’t even blink. She walked up to him and kissed him—right in front of me.

If they thought this would break me, they were wrong.

There’s nothing left to shatter.

My heart died the day Naomi did—and with the pup I never got to hold.

**

I was trimming roses to decorate the great hall when it happened.

I didn’t see Owen sneak behind me and grab a stem I hadn’t de-thorned yet.

His loud cry tore through the courtyard, drawing the attention of every omega nearby.

Then came Rovena—eyes wild, storming toward me.

“What did you do to my son, you cursed wolf?” she shrieked, slamming me into the muddy ground.

A wave of her hand, and the rose stem twisted alive, its thorns slithering around my body like venomous snakes.

“You trying to kill him like your own daughter, huh?”

The pain from the thorns was bearable—but the illusion she cast with her magic turned it into something unbearable. My skin burned, torn from the inside out.

“Please—I didn’t see him, I swear! This hurts, please!” I sobbed.

“Feel it,” Rovena spat, tightening the thorny binds. “One moment I let my guard down, and you’re at it again, Layla. What would Alpha Tristan say if he found out you hurt his heir?”

And right on cue, he arrived. Alpha Tristan. His eyes were ablaze, his claws already bared.

“Let go of her, love. I’ll punish her myself—for daring to harm my son,” he growled, his voice like thunder.

His foot slammed into my ribs before I could even catch my breath. I coughed, the taste of blood filling my mouth.

"You believe her? Again?" I croaked. "You always believe her. You never even asked what really happened."

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. So I went on.

"Do you know why I lost our baby? Because you left me bleeding after you caught the scent of silver on me. You thought I was cursed. You didn’t even look at me when you threw me in that cell. Naomi died because I was weak. Because you left me there to rot."

His fists clenched.

“And Rovena?” I pushed further, the fire inside me refusing to dim. “She took Naomi out of the hospital when she still needed treatment. She killed her. And you let her.”

His expression faltered for a split second, something flickering in his eyes. But it didn’t last.

Rovena stepped in again, casting another whisper of her spell.

“She’s lying, my love. Just like always.”

Rovena’s tone softened as she turned to Alpha Tristan. “Don’t punish her too harshly. Owen still needs a caretaker for his birthday party.”

Alpha Tristan nodded, brushing me off like dirt beneath his boot.

**

The next day, the grand hall of Rage Willow was transformed into a lavish wonderland for Owen’s birthday.

Glittering banners, enchanted balloons, a stage with performers—all for the perfect little prince.

I stood on the sidelines, invisible as ever, dressed in muted tones, holding a tray like one of the staff.

My heart feels empty. I used to feel proud when Alpha Tristan spoiled Naomi—on her third birthday. But now, that’s all just a memory.

Rovena made a show of laughing and whispering to the guests. Her words, always loud enough to sting.

“Poor Layla. Still clinging to the title of Luna, as if it means anything anymore.”

“She’s lucky Alpha Tristan even lets her live here.”

“What Alpha would want a deaf mate? She needs to take a good look at herself.”

They thought I couldn’t hear them. I growled low, letting my fangs show—a silent warning.

“She’s gone mad too,” one of them muttered as they walked off.

Let them talk. They can say whatever they like. Their words don’t carry the weight they used to.

But Elder Geoffrey saw. He saw everything.

When the cake was brought out, and everyone gathered to sing, he sent me message, [Layla, a word. In my office. Now.]

Layla

I followed Elder Geoffrey in silence.

Once we were alone, he unrolled a parchment.

“This was your bond scroll,” he said, speaking through the sign language interpreter. “The one sealing your union with Alpha Tristan. But it’s fading. The ink, the seal... all of it.”

I stared at it, numb.

“The bond fades as his loyalty wavers,” Elder Geoffrey continued. “And with what I’ve seen, he’s no longer bound to you—not truly.”

His words didn’t bring pain. They brought clarity.

I nodded slowly. “Then it’s time I stop clinging to a title that no longer exists.”

One light in the darkness—finally. The Moon Goddess and the balance of nature had begun unbinding our connection. Magic recognised what he refused to admit.

I texted Beta Aiken immediately.

[The bond is fading. His betrayal is undoing it.] But he hadn’t replied.

That night, as I was about to enter my room, Alpha Tristan found me—not in the room we once shared, but in a dusty old storage room.

He handed me a box.

“Wear this to the theatre tomorrow,” he said sharply. “As my Luna. You’ll stand beside me for the entire performance. We can’t afford to ruin our image. And bring the kid.”

I growled inwardly. He still didn’t know Naomi was gone.

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, as if waiting for a reaction. But before I could move, a chime echoed from my phone.

“Who’s that?” His eyes narrowed. “One of your lovers?”

I didn’t answer. I kept up the act, pretending not to hear.

He snatched my phone from my hands. “Give me the passcode.”

I said nothing.

“Bloody useless device—just like its owner.” He hurled it at the carpeted floor.

“Alpha?”

Rovena’s voice broke the moment. She stood there with little Owen in her arms, wearing that ever-so-sympathetic expression.

“Your son wants a bedtime story, darling,” she cooed.

A smile curled at his lips. He turned his back to me without another word.

Good. Stay that way. Because I didn’t care anymore.

When the door shut, I picked up my phone and switched it back on. Relief filled my chest when the screen lit up—and so did a message from Aiken.

[Your father’s holding back his fury, Layla. One word from you, and we’ll come get you.]

I hit call.

“Aiken?” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“Layla.” His voice was tight. “What’s happening?”

“Plans have changed,” I said quickly. “Pick me up at the theatre tomorrow. I’ll send the address. I’m done pretending.”

“I know your hearing’s returned. Seer Rhiannon said so yesterday.” A pause. “Do you want a bit of a show?”

“Do what you must—as long as it gets me out of the claws of those two demons.”

**

The next morning, Rovena was in a frenzy over the gown Alpha Tristan had gifted her. She twirled in front of the mirror, then shoved it in my arms.

“Press it. Properly,” she demanded. “We can’t look like peasants at the theatre tonight.”

That was just the start.

Over the course of the day, she gave me the most ridiculous errands.

“I want my necklace threads colour-matched to the lining of this dress.”

“Steam the curtain tassels—they look at me funny.”

“Count all my hairpins. There should be seventy.”

By the fourth hour, I’d nearly ripped a velvet ribbon in half.

She shoved little Owen in my arms next. “Watch him while I get ready.”

He started crying almost immediately. I tried everything, but he wouldn’t stop.

“Ugh! Honestly, Luna Layla,” Rovena snapped when she returned. “You can’t even calm a baby. How on earth did you manage Naomi?”

I clenched my jaw. My hands shook with the urge to slap her into next week.

But I didn’t. Because she’d still not told me where Naomi was buried.

And then Alpha Tristan walked in.

He didn’t scold her. He didn’t defend me. He just... stood there, watching. Silent.

His eyes landed on me. “Where’s Naomi?”

I said nothing.

His gaze slid down to my collarbone—right where his mate mark used to burn bright.

Now it was barely a shadow. Fading like the bond we once had.

“What’s this?” he asked. “You think I cheated, and suddenly your body rejects me?”

I looked him in the eye for the first time in couple days.

As I turned to leave and prepare myself, something pulled at the edge of my mind.

I had to tell him the truth—even if, to Alpha Tristan, it would sound no different than one of my own delusions.

“Naomi’s dead. And I’m not your Luna anymore.” My voice was low, calm. The final nail in a coffin. “Even nature has rejected that title, Alpha.”

He laughed. “You still be my Luna until I reject you.”

A cold, dismissive, arrogant laugh. Like I was telling fairy tales.

He wouldn’t understand. But he would. Very soon.