Seraphina POV:

Three days crept by, each one a long shadow stretching and fading into the next within the gloom of the forest.

The heavy wooden doors of the manor slammed open, bringing in a gust of freezing wind. Zander had returned from his latest border patrol. He stomped the snow off his heavy leather boots and found me curled up in a velvet chair by the dying fire.

"Still sitting here alone, I see," he mocked, unfastening his sword belt. "Did you really think you could find a male willing to take you in?"

I did not look up, keeping my eyes fixed on the glowing embers.

"You should be on your knees thanking the Moon Goddess for me," Zander said, his voice rising with arrogant pride. "Ten years ago, when those rogues destroyed you, I was the hero who pulled you from the mud."

He walked closer, his boots thudding against the stone floor. "I am the only one who does not despise your ruined body. Remember that."

I slowly lowered my gaze to my lap, where my fingers gently traced the edges of a magical parchment. It had been delivered at dawn by a black raven. The parchment glowed with a soft, golden light, revealing a magical rendering of two tiny, perfect pups growing safely inside my womb.

A small, folded note fell from the parchment, landing softly on my dress. It was written in ancient runes, carrying the scent of crisp pine and winter storms. It was a message from Alpha Silas, the absolute ruler of the Wintermoon Pack. The translation burned brightly in my mind.

"Wait for me. In three days, I will arrive with the grandest ceremony this continent has ever seen, to crown you as my Luna."

I pressed the parchment against my chest, feeling the pups stir for the first time—a silent promise that my life was about to change forever. And Zander’s reign over me was already over.

Seraphina POV:

A low, grating sound issued from Zander's throat, the noise of a predator whose authority had been questioned. He hated being ignored, especially by an Omega who was supposed to be submissive to his every whim.

"Are you deaf, Seraphina?" he snapped, stepping into my line of sight.

I finally raised my head and looked at him. The past decade did not flash before my eyes; instead, it settled upon me like a shroud. I saw the condescension in the slight downward tilt of his chin, the neglect in the worn leather of his tunic that I had not mended, the cruelty in a small, almost imperceptible scar beside his lip. For the first time, I saw not the edifice of a hero he had constructed, but the pathetic cracks in its foundation—a weak, posturing man terrified of being exposed.

Yet, looking at his angry face now, I felt absolutely nothing. Instead, my body betrayed me, flushing with a sudden, intense heat that had nothing to do with him. My senses were entirely consumed by the memory of another man.

I remembered the scent of a winter storm mixed with wild berries. I remembered the electric touch that had sent a jolt of pure, terrifying pleasure down my spine, bypassing all my trauma.

I stood up slowly, my posture straight and unyielding. I did not lower my eyes, meeting his gaze with a cold, steady calm that made him step back in confusion.

"Zander," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion.

I reached into the pocket of my dress and pulled out a thick roll of parchment sealed with red wax.

"This was drafted by the Pack Elders this morning," I explained, holding it out to him. "It is the official dissolution of our mating contract. Bleed on it and sign it."

An unmasked flicker of panic constricted the pupils of his eyes, a brief, genuine terror, before his jaw went slack with disbelief.

I did not wait for his reaction. I walked past him toward the heavy oak doors, sitting on the bench to pull on my leather riding boots. As I passed him, the nauseating, cheap floral scent of Daphne clung heavily to his cloak.

"Oh, by the way," I said, offering him a polite, empty smile. "That precious moonflower you planted in the courtyard for her? I pulled it up by the roots."

Zander's face turned a violent shade of red.

"I am leaving," I continued, adjusting the laces of my boots. "I want none of your gold, none of your clothes. I am only taking Barnaby."

Barnaby was my fourteen-year-old moon-dog, a weak and elderly spirit beast I had raised since he was a pup.

Zander burst into a fit of harsh, mocking laughter. He closed the distance between us, trying to use his physical size to intimidate me.

"You are a discarded Omega with no pack protection and no territory!" he spat, his breath smelling of stale ale. "If you walk out into that forest, the wild beasts will tear you apart before nightfall."

He looked at my flushed cheeks and rolled his eyes, completely misunderstanding my physical state.

"You are just throwing a tantrum because your pre-heat fever is making you delusional," he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. He turned his back on me, grabbing his cloak again. "I will have the servants send some gold coins to your room. Buy yourself something pretty and calm down."

Without waiting for my answer, he pushed the doors open. He mounted his black horse in the courtyard, riding off in a hurry to find Daphne.

I watched him disappear into the thick fog, a cold smile touching my lips. He had no idea that the pups inside me were not his—and that their true father was the most powerful Alpha on the continent. He would learn soon enough.