Chapter four

Damien hesitated, as if caught in the jaws of his own guilt. His gaze lingered on me a second too long—too soft, too haunted—before he stepped forward and forced neutrality back into his features.

“Elara is like a sister to me,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “She’s the only wolf I could rely on after the war. That’s all this is. We’re... absolutely innocent.”

Innocent.

The word hung in the air like a cruel joke.

I said nothing.

Because if I opened my mouth, I might howl.

My silence made him shift uncomfortably. His amber eyes searched mine, growing increasingly uneasy with each second I didn’t speak.

But my mind had already left the present.

I was back in the storm of my first death—blood, lies, betrayal.

Elara had stood before the Council of Elders, tears glistening like dew on her lashes. She’d accused me of sabotaging the food stores during the famine, claiming Ayla and I had stolen mooncakes laced with wolfsbane.

She said we’d poisoned ourselves.

Damien hadn’t questioned it. Hadn’t blinked. He’d wrapped her in his arms, whispering comforts meant for a grieving mate.

From the shadowed veil of the spirit realm, I watched as he mourned the lie.

“She was a mistake,” he’d said. “If she had lived, I would’ve cast her out. Elara, you and your pups are my future. I won’t let her ghost threaten that.”

That was the moment I died.

Not from poison, but from the truth.

That was when Selene Stormfang ceased to exist.

Now, Elara stood in front of me again, swathed in ivory silk, her pregnant belly cradled like a trophy. She smiled, ever gentle. “Sister, you’ve traveled far. Come, let’s get you changed into something warm. The feast is still going.”

She reached for Ayla.

But Ayla flinched, darting behind my leg and clutching the worn hem of my tunic.

Damien crouched before her, a smile softening his face. “Little one... don’t you remember me?”

Ayla blinked up at him with wide, wary eyes. Her grip on my leg tightened, and her lower lip trembled.

“She was barely out of her swaddling cloth when you went away,” I said, voice cool. “And you never returned. So no—she doesn’t remember the wolf who abandoned her.”

Despite the dirt and hunger, Ayla had grown beautifully—her wolf emerging with quiet strength. In the firelight, her eyes shimmered like stormlit skies, just like mine. A cub forged from ruin.

Damien gathered her into his arms with a father’s ease, coaxing her gently. “Ayla, it’s me. I’m your father. Say it—Daddy.”

But she only stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line, pulling on my tunic like she was begging me to save her.

He tried again, voice dipping into softness. For a moment, I almost saw the wolf I once loved.

Then she remained silent. And his patience cracked.

His voice sharpened. “Selene, now that you’re here, when are you planning to return?”

My brow lifted. “Return? To the cave in the eastern pass? The one you called a ‘safehouse’? The one that flooded when the river swelled and nearly drowned us both?”

He flinched.

“I told you,” he said quietly. “I was waiting for the right time. The manor is crowded. Diplomats. Warriors. There’s no room right now. Once the east wing is repaired, I’ll—”

“No.”

My voice turned to frost. “You think I’ll let you stash us away again? Hide us like a scandal? Ayla and I lived on scraps and rainwater. We chewed bark. Slept in trees. If not for a wandering rogue with herbs and mercy, we’d be bones by now.”

“This Pack has dozens of halls, Damien. Hundreds of beds. But no space for your mate and daughter?”

I saw it now—how blind I had been.

I had loved him. Trusted him. Denied the blood in my veins to be his Luna.

And he had let me rot in the wild.

“Five years,” I said softly. “Five years of silence. Of empty letters and promises that never arrived. No food. No coin. Not a whisper of your voice.”

Damien’s brow creased. “That’s not true. I sent silver. One hundred moons every month. Through the courier wolves.”

My heart stopped cold.

“When?” I asked. “Every month?”

He nodded, brows drawn tight. “Since the day I left. Without fail.”

His eyes shifted. Cut to Elara.

And there it was.

Her smile didn’t falter.

But her hand—resting over her belly—tightened.

The truth was written in the stiffness of her spine.

I saw it.

And so did he.

Chapter Five

Elara’s golden eyes shimmered with mock hurt. “Selene, surely you don’t think I withheld your coin, do you?”

She placed a hand over her heart, her voice dripping with wounded innocence. “I’ll have it looked into immediately. One of the Omega staff must’ve gotten greedy… a mutt with no respect for rank.”

With a swirl of her velvet cloak, she turned, her personal she-wolf attendant following like a shadow.

Moments later, two enforcers dragged a trembling young Omega into the training yard. The girl was barely more than skin and bones, her uniform threadbare, her eyes swollen and red.

Lyra followed behind them, her voice high and clear enough to draw a crowd. “This one,” she announced with regal disdain, “stole from the funds allocated for the former Luna and her child. Claimed she needed it for her dying mother.”

She scoffed. “A pretty excuse for a thief.”

Then, with a flick of her wrist, she commanded, “Break her legs. Let her screams remind the rest what happens when you take from the Alpha’s house.”

“No.”

The word cracked like thunder from my throat.

Even if I were a fool, I wasn’t blind enough to believe this scrawny Omega had acted alone. Lyra’s display was too convenient. Too polished.

I stepped forward, reaching instinctively for Ayla—but paused as Lyra signaled subtly behind her. A tilt of her fingers. Barely noticeable. But the intent was unmistakable.

Then they came.

Her two pups—no more than five winters old but already groomed in cruelty—charged forward, snarling.

“You’re trying to take our daddy away!” the girl howled, clutching a sharp stone from the path.

“Bad wolf!” the boy shrieked, his tiny claws unsheathed. “Hit her! Hit her like a rogue!”

The stones flew fast and mean. I turned my body to shield Ayla, but one sharp edge slipped past, catching her temple.

Her scream pierced me.

Blood ran down her face, bright and thin.

Lyra’s children only laughed and reached for more.

I spun, fury igniting beneath my skin. My wolf rose, brushing the surface.

“Touch another stone,” I growled, “and I’ll bury you both before the next moonrise.”

The twins froze, their small bodies sensing the shift in power. They stumbled backward, cowering behind Damien like pups behind a father they knew would defend them—no matter the truth.

“Daddy!” the girl whined, clinging to his leg. “She said she wants to kill us!”

Damien knelt to comfort them, his voice soft, his hands gentle.

Then his gaze found me—cold, sharp, full of blame.

“Selene,” he said, standing tall, “must you bring chaos everywhere you go?”

His eyes flicked briefly to Ayla, then past her—as if the blood on her face was a nuisance, not a wound.

“You’ve been here half a day and already upset the pack. Take your daughter and leave.”

I stared at him.

Not once did he acknowledge Ayla’s injury. Not a twitch of his nose. Not a flicker of concern. He clutched Lyra’s children like they were his own blood, while Ayla trembled in my arms, her breath shallow and rattling.

My heart ached.

I lifted Ayla gently, her small frame pressed to my chest, and stormed toward the Great Hall.

“Healer!” I shouted. “Is there a healer here? I need a medic now!”

Before I could reach the stairs, Damien blocked my path, flanked by two Betas.

“Selene, who do you think you are? Summoning the grand Healer for a bump on the head?”

He motioned to his guards. “Silence her. Take the child.”

Hands grabbed for Ayla. A cloth covered her mouth. Her eyes went wide with panic as her skin began to pale, then blue.

My wolf snapped.

I lunged and bit Damien hard on the shoulder, my teeth sinking through skin and muscle.

He roared, but I was already sprinting through the hall’s entrance, Ayla cradled tightly in my arms.

“Zane!” I shouted, spotting the Royal Healer across the chamber. “Zane! Help her—please!”

The music halted. Every head turned.

The Healer froze, eyes widening in disbelief. “Selene?”

He crossed the hall in a flash, his hands already glowing with healing energy. He took Ayla with practiced care, checking her pulse, her breath.

Above us, seated on the dais, was Lady Vivienne, once Alpha Regent, now wrapped in the dignity of age and power. She leaned forward, voice sharp as a fang.

“Who is that woman? Why does her scent stir old blood?”

Damien dropped into a shallow bow. “My Lady, she’s no one. A servant who lost her place long ago.”

But I was already moving.

I stepped into the center of the room, ignoring the dozens of eyes, and dropped to one knee, pulling a folded decree from my sleeve.

“My Lady,” I said clearly, my voice ringing in the silence, “I am not a servant.”

“I am Selene Stormfang. Daughter of Alpha Garrick. Blood of the ancient Northern Clans. First Luna of Clawfang Pack.”

I lifted my chin.

“And I seek your judgment to sever my bond to Alpha Damien of Clawfang—by rite of blood and betrayal.”