Hera's POV

My heart broke as I stared at the test results in my shaking hands, my breath hitching as the pack doctor’s words echoed in my mind.

“This can’t be true,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

I sat outside Lyra’s hospital room, the cold chair beneath me doing little to steady the turmoil inside. How could this be possible? How could Lyra not be my daughter? I gave birth to her. She was mine. Every fiber of my being screamed that these results were wrong.

“Run the test again,” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady, though it came out sharper than I intended.

The doctor hesitated, his sympathetic eyes unbearable. “Luna, we’ve already done it twice—”

“Then do it again!” I snapped, cutting him off.

While I waited, my gaze was locked on Lyra’s small, still figure lying unconscious on the hospital bed. She looked so pale, so fragile. The doctors couldn’t figure out why she had fallen sick so suddenly. None of it made sense.

When the doctor returned, his face was grim, and my heart sank. He handed me the new results, and they were the same.

“No,” I muttered, ripping the paper in half as anger and despair boiled over. “This isn’t true! This can’t be true!”

Desperate for answers, I stormed out of the hospital, heading straight to the pack house. If anyone could explain this madness, it was Rowan.

As I climbed the staircase, voices from the library stopped me in my tracks. One of them was Rowan’s, the other unmistakably Seina’s—her smug tone making my stomach churn.

I hesitated, then crept closer, the door slightly ajar. What I saw made my blood run cold. Rowan was sitting on the couch, Seina draped across his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck like a snake coiling its prey.

My nails dug into my palms as rage bubbled inside me, but before I could barge in, her next words stopped me dead.

“Baby,” Seina purred, her voice dripping with malice, “did you make sure your wife won’t find out Lyra isn’t her daughter? I heard that rogue child is in the hospital. Is the poison working? She has to die. Hera can’t find out she’s not the real mother.”

My breath hitched, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle the gasp threatening to escape.

Rowan’s reply was worse than anything I could’ve imagined. “Don’t worry, my love,” he said, stroking her cheek. “The poison is slow, but it’s working. That child won’t survive the night. Hera will never know the truth—not about Lyra or her real daughter.”

My wolf howled in fury, her rage matching mine. Rowan and Seina had poisoned Lyra. My sweet, innocent Lyra. And worse, they spoke of my real daughter. If Lyra wasn’t mine, where was my child? What had they done to her?

I wanted to storm in and tear them apart, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I needed answers first.

The next few hours passed in a blur. I tried to stay calm, piecing together every shred of evidence, but my body betrayed me. I felt lightheaded, my limbs heavy. My mind raced back to earlier that evening when Rowan had ordered a servant to bring me milk. His unreadable gaze lingered as I drank it.

Moments later, I collapsed onto the bed, my world fading to black.

When I woke, my head throbbed, and my body felt weak. Rowan sat at my bedside, his expression grave.

“The hospital caught fire,” he said, his voice shaking. “Lyra… Lyra didn’t make it.”

His words struck me like a physical blow.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head as tears blurred my vision. “No, that’s not true. You’re lying!”

“I’m not,” he insisted, gripping my shoulders as if to steady me. “The fire spread too fast. She was trapped, Hera. There was nothing anyone could do.”

I shoved him away, my anger flaring. “I need to see her!”

Ignoring his protests, I stumbled out of the pack house, my legs barely holding me up. When I reached the hospital, flames consumed the building, thick smoke billowing into the sky.

I dropped to my knees, staring at the destruction. “No,” I cried, my voice breaking. “Lyra…”

Rowan appeared behind me, his hand on my shoulder as if he shared my grief. His touch felt like a vice, suffocating and cold.

“I told you we should’ve kept her at home,” he murmured. “If only you had listened—”

“Don’t,” I snapped, turning to glare at him. My wolf snarled, her rage mirroring my own. “Don’t you dare blame me!”

He flinched but quickly recovered, his face a mask of false sorrow. “I only wanted to protect her.”

I turned away, bile rising in my throat. The milk. The sudden illness. The fire. It was all connected.

They thought they could break me, that I’d crumble under the weight of their lies. But they underestimated me.

I would find the truth—about Lyra, about my real daughter, about everything.

And when I did, Rowan and Seina would pay for every lie, every betrayal, and every life they’d taken.

Hera’s POV

It had been two months since Lyra’s funeral, but the gaping hole in my heart refused to heal. Grief wasn’t the worst part; it was the truth gnawing at me from the shadows. Lyra hadn’t been my daughter, and Rowan and Seina had orchestrated it all. Every day I thought about my real child—the one I’d never held, never soothed to sleep, never loved the way a mother should.

What would she look like? Will she have Lyra’s sweet laugh? Was she alive and somewhere safe, or... was she even burried properly?

These thoughts haunted me, clawing at my sanity. For ten years, I’d poured my heart into raising a child who wasn’t mine, all while Rowan and Seina played their twisted game.

The pack had rallied around Rowan after Lyra’s death, showering him with sympathy. He played the grieving father to perfection, even as he turned his anger into a weapon against me. “You should have kept her at home,” he’d said repeatedly, his accusations cutting deeper every time.

I let him blame me. It was easier to let him think I was broken, guilt-ridden, and helpless.

One evening, I found myself at a dimly lit pub on the outskirts of the werewolf city, nursing a glass of whiskey. Across the room, Rowan sat at a corner table with Seina. They didn’t even bother to hide their affair anymore. His hand rested possessively on hers, their heads tilted close as they whispered and laughed.

Their betrayal wasn’t new, but it burned just the same. Seina had always been in Rowan’s life, long before our arranged marriage. Our union had been a political move, orchestrated by my grandfather, the last Lesvin of the Moonshadow pack, to forge an alliance with Blackthorn. I had been nothing but a pawn, a means to strengthen his legacy.

I drained my glass and left, unable to stomach their display any longer. Outside, the streets were alive with the buzz of nightlife, but I felt detached from it all. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

“The midwife who delivered your child is dead,” Denesus, my grandfather’s second-in-command, said without preamble. His voice was low, heavy.

I stopped in my tracks, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. “Dead?” I whispered.

“She was killed the day after she disappeared,” he confirmed. “It wasn’t an accident. Someone wanted her silenced.”

“Find out who,” I said, my voice cold and steady despite the storm raging inside me.

Ending the call, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed for the Blackthorn pack house. My grandfather was waiting for me in the lobby, his imposing frame commanding attention.

“Where’s Rowan?” he asked, his sharp gaze raking over me.

“Handling a pack dispute,” I lied smoothly.

Grandfather studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Tell him when he returns that he’s needed at a council meeting in the Moonshadow pack. And, Hera...” His tone softened, a rare tenderness coloring his voice. “I know losing Lyra has been hard. I loved her too.”

A lump formed in my throat, but I forced a smile. “It’s been hard, Grandpa, but I’m trying to move forward.”

He placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. “The council will expect you to produce an heir soon. Tell Rowan it’s time to think about the future.”

I nodded, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth as he kissed my forehead and left.

Later that night, Rowan stumbled through the door, reeking of alcohol. His disheveled appearance only fueled my disgust.

“My Luna,” he slurred, wrapping an arm around me. “Still awake? Did you visit Lyra’s grave again?”

I forced a gentle smile, suppressing the fury that simmered beneath my skin. “I left daffodils for her,” I replied, keeping my voice soft. “Grandfather was here earlier. There’s a council meeting at Moonshadow, and he expects you to attend.”

He waved a dismissive hand, his focus slipping. “Mmm, always meetings...”

I reached up, cupping his face with a tenderness I didn’t feel. “Rowan,” I said, my voice laced with feigned vulnerability, “why don’t we try for another child?”

His drunken haze cracked, his expression flickering with unease. “Another child?” he echoed, his voice uneven.

Hera's POV

“Yes,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. My expression remained cold, even as I savored the flicker of panic in Rowan’s eyes. He was pacing, his movements erratic, like a caged animal searching for an escape. “Lyra is gone, Rowan. Who will inherit Blackthorn now?”

He stopped mid-step and turned to me, his face softening into a mask of feigned affection. It was a look I once might have believed. Not anymore.

“Hera, my Luna,” he said, his voice dripping with counterfeit tenderness. He reached for my hand, his touch calculated. “I know you’re grieving. Lyra meant everything to us. But it’s too soon. I’m not ready to—”

“Is that the real reason?” I interrupted, my voice low and cutting.

For a moment, his mask slipped. His jaw clenched, and his eyes hardened. “You don’t understand grief,” he snapped, his tone sharper than I expected. “Did you even love her? Or is this just about your precious status as Luna? Less than two months, and you’re already talking about heirs? It’s disgusting, Hera. Heartless.”

The words struck, but I didn’t flinch. I let tears brim in my eyes, carefully forcing my voice to tremble. “How dare you question my love for Lyra? I gave her everything—everything!” I paused, letting my voice soften just enough. “But I’m not just her mother, Rowan. I’m the Luna. Without an heir, we’re vulnerable. The council made that clear.”

He let out a bitter laugh, his gaze skimming over me with disdain. “The council,” he repeated mockingly. “They only care about tradition. They don’t care about our pain. About Lyra. About us.”

There was no us, not anymore. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, suppressing the bile rising in my throat.

“Rowan,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “if we don’t act, the Moonstone’s power will falter. Blackthorn will fall.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before stepping back. “Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll discuss this after the council meeting. I have to prepare.”

I watched him leave with my cold gaze.

Days turned into weeks. Rowan avoided every mention of another child, his excuses growing weaker with each passing day. I knew then that he had no intention of fulfilling his duty.

The pack council’s words burned into me, no heir within two years, and I’d lose my status as Luna. Worse, the Moonstone—the source of Blackthorn and Moonshadow's strength—would become vulnerable.

One afternoon, I returned to the pack house earlier than expected. The sight that greeted me made my blood freeze. Seina stepped out of the master chamber, her face pale and her hair disheveled. Behind her, Rowan appeared, his shirt unbuttoned, his expression faltering for just a moment before his mask slipped back into place.

“Luna Hera,” Seina stammered, avoiding my gaze.

Rowan’s voice was too calm, too quick. “It’s nothing,” he said, flashing that same sickening smile. “Seina was just—”

“Save your excuses,” I snapped, my tone as cold as steel. I turned on my heel, heading for my room. “I’ll be leaving for the Blackfang pack as they wanted me regarding the issue between the borders. Tell the council I’ll handle this matter myself.”

Behind me, I heard Rowan call out, his voice tinged with panic. But I didn’t stop.

The journey to Blackfang was treacherous. Rogues had been spotted near the borders, and two warriors were assigned to escort me. Rowan had offered to come along, his sudden sincerity setting every alarm in my head ringing. “When you return,” he had said, “we’ll try for another child.”

Was he planning something?

Two days into the trip, the rogues attacked. They came fast and silent, shadows flitting through the trees. Beta Dhan shouted for me to run, his sword flashing as he fought them off. I nodded and run away to flee but I was not far when suddenly an arrow I was not expecting hit my stomach and I froze seeing the blood seeping my dress.

Rowan stepped out of the shadows, a bow in hand and a cruel smile curling on his lips.

“Rowan,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. “You...why?”

"Why?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery. His eyes glinted with malice as a cruel smile played on his lips. "Because you’ve always been so naive, Hera. And I can’t risk you running to the council about my affair."

I tried to shift into my wolf, but the poison coursing through my veins stole my strength. I stumbled, gasping as pain lanced through me. Rowan raised his bow, another arrow aimed at my heart.

“You’ll regret this,” I managed to choke out, my voice laced with fury.

He smiled, a predator savoring his kill. “Goodbye, my Luna.”

The arrow struck, and darkness enveloped me. But even as my body failed, my mind burned with a single promise, You’ll pay for this, Rowan. I swear it.