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.

Hera's POV

When I woke up, I was in Lyra's hospital room, as if I’d simply taken a nap. My hand instinctively went to my chest, where my heart was—or where it should have been pierced by an arrow. The memory was so vivid, so raw. The pain of Rowan’s betrayal had felt too real to be just a dream.

My brows furrowed as unease crept in. Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t feel my wolf. Why can’t I feel her? What’s happening?

I stood, scanning the room, my pulse pounding in my ears. Just then, the door swung open, and the doctor walked in, holding a paper in his hand. His expression mirrored my confusion as he handed it to me.

“Luna, you need to see this,” he said, his voice tense.

I took the paper, my gaze locking onto the paper. It was the same test result that Lyra was not my daughter.

Was I trapped in some cruel illusion? The same thing was happening.

I blinked, my confusion obvious, and the doctor must’ve noticed. “I know this is shocking, Luna, but we can run a second test to confirm—”

“No,” I said quickly, forcing a small smile to mask my turmoil. “That won’t be necessary. Leave me to process this.”

He nodded, hesitating for a moment before leaving the room. I glanced at Lyra, lying unconscious on the bed as my mind raced as I stared at her fragile form. Did I… come back in time?

I tried reaching out to my wolf for answers, but there was nothing. Just silence. It was as if she’d been ripped away from me. Panic clawed at my throat as I bolted out of the hospital, running blindly into the forest. I tried to shift, desperate to feel her presence, but no matter how hard I pushed, nothing happened.

I dropped to my knees, the grass cold and damp beneath me. My chest heaved as questions swirled in my mind. Is my wolf… gone?

I needed answers. The pack sage would know.

When I reached Sage Hermes at the Moonshadow pack, his expression was grim the moment he saw me. “What happened, Luna?”

“I… I don’t know,” I stammered. “I can’t feel my wolf.”

His face darkened with worry. “What did you do, Luna?”

“I didn’t do anything!” I shot back, my voice cracking.

He shook his head, his fingers gripping my wrist as he felt for my pulse. “Your wolf… she’s gone. It’s as if… she traded herself for your life.”

His words hit like a thunderclap, and I stared at him, unable to breathe.

“My wolf… traded her life? No. That’s impossible.”

Hermes nodded solemnly. “It’s rare, but it can happen. Tell me the truth, Luna. What really happened to you?”

I was silent, the weight of his words crushing me. My wolf—my constant companion since I was twelve—was gone.

But I knew why. She had sacrificed herself… for me. For something I needed to do.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I trust you, Hermes. This stays between us.”

He hesitated but finally nodded. “I understand. But know this—if your wolf truly traded her life, the Moon Goddess won’t return her.”

“Is there any other way?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’ll find out.”

With that, I left Moonshadow and returned to the Blackthorn pack, where Rowan was waiting.

“How’s Lyra?” he asked, his voice laced with fake concern.

“She’s getting worse,” I replied, my tone heavy with feigned worry. “I don’t know what’s happening to her, Rowan.”

He nodded, his face sinking into a perfect mask of sorrow. “You look tired, my love. I’ll have the servants bring you some milk to help you rest.”

I bit back the urge to claw his smug face. That milk—it would be laced with something to make me unconscious.

“Thank you, Hon,” I said with a soft smile, playing the role of a grateful Luna.

When the servant brought the glass to my room, I waited until they left before dumping it out and refilling it with plain milk.

Not long after, Rowan came in, his eyes flicking to the untouched glass. “You should drink it before it gets cold,” he said, his concern dripping with false sincerity.

I lifted the glass and drank it, watching as satisfaction flickered across his face.

“Rest well, my Luna,” he said, brushing a hand over my hair. “I’ll be handling some pack matters.”

As soon as he left, I slipped out of the room. My destination was to the hospital.

With the help of a Moonshadow healer’s potion, I saved Lyra from the poison coursing through her veins and took her out of the hospital under the cover of night. Denerus, one of the pack’s loyal warriors, helped me hide her where Rowan wouldn’t find her.

When I returned to the pack house, I climbed into bed, forcing myself to feign sleep.

Not long after, I heard Rowan’s footsteps.

His voice echoed down the hall, "Hera! Our daughter...she...she's dead!"