Serena POV

I slowed my respiration, forcing it into the deep, even cadence of slumber. Through the opening door, the scent of Silas — pine resin and costly tobacco — drifted in. I drew my own scent inward, folding it away until I was a void in the room’s olfactory landscape.

“Remember your station,” Silas whispered. I heard the scratch of a match, then the pungent aroma of a lit cigar. “I am bound for the safe house. Lyra has need of me. The pregnancy makes her volatile.”

I bit the inside of my cheek until blood filled my mouth. A Rogue carried the Alpha’s heir, while the Luna was serviced by a forgery.

“Alpha,” the clone spoke, his voice hesitant. “A word.”

“What is it, defect?”

“I am… concerned. The Luna’s instincts are keen. I fear she perceives the absence of a true connection.”

Silas emitted a low, contemptuous laugh. “Serena is a low-born Omega. She is too weak to smell the difference between us.”

The clone fell silent. Then, strained: “She has begun to demand more… affection. At night. I find myself… struggling.”

“Struggling with what?”

“The mate-instincts,” the clone confessed, his voice sinking to a whisper. “When she wears those nightgowns of lace… my body reacts.”

“Do not be absurd,” Silas growled. “You are a laboratory specimen. You do not possess an Inner Wolf. You cannot even Shift.”

“I know what I am. But when she touches me…”

“Silence!” Silas hissed. The command struck the air like a physical shockwave. I heard the heavy thud of knees striking the floor. “You are an instrument. You will not malfunction. You will not touch her beyond the minimum required. You are forbidden, on pain of your unmaking, from Marking her. Is that understood?”

“It is understood, Alpha.”

I heard the tread of Silas’s heavy boots receding. The great manor door opened and closed. He was gone.

Now, only the clone remained outside my chamber.

The floorboards creaked as he regained his feet. He pushed the bedroom door fully open.

I lay in the darkness, awaiting the approach of the monster. But as he stepped closer, I caught something in his scent — a faint, sterile undertone, like the cold air of a laboratory. And beneath that, something else. Something almost like sorrow.

I thought he was the monster. But the real monster had just walked out the door. And this one… this one I could use.

Serena POV

Gideon stepped into the pitch-black chamber. He moved with a quietness alien to Silas — his footfalls light, almost prayerful. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing slow.

The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Luna?” he whispered.

His voice was gentle, devoid of the harsh arrogance I knew. I did not stir.

I felt his cold fingers brush against the silk blindfold over my eyes. He slowly untied the ribbon, and the blindfold slid away. Pale moonlight spilled across my face.

Gideon let out a breath that was not entirely steady. He reached out, his thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw.

The instant his flesh met mine, a convulsion — violent and exquisite — tore through my entire being. A deep, resonant thrumming in my bones recognized its counterpart. My soul trembled. My hidden White Wolf let out a silent, deafening howl within the confines of my mind.

How was this possible? The Moon Goddess assigns mates to bring together two halves of a single soul. How could this manufactured thing, this soulless homunculus, provoke the primal recognition coded into my very blood?

Gideon snatched his hand back as if scalded. His breathing grew ragged.

“If only I were real,” he whispered into the gloom, his voice thick with sorrow. “If only I possessed a wolf. I would splinter the very gates of this manor with my bare hands to stand as your true Alpha.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft, trembling kiss to my forehead. Then, with an abruptness that spoke of desperate self-control, he stood and retreated to the bathroom. I heard the rush of the shower — an icy deluge.

I slowly opened my eyes. My White Wolf paced the cage of my mind, its silent roars demanding vengeance. Silas had not merely betrayed me; he had defiled me. He had broken the most profound laws of the Goddess. He had forsaken his pack, his mate, for a Rogue. And he had created a being capable of love, only to deny it the right to exist.

When Gideon returned, a faint tremor shook his frame. He lay down at the far edge of the bed, a rigid and unwilling sentinel, his arm placed awkwardly around my waist.

I stared up at the canopy, my mind a cold engine of calculation. But threaded through the icy fury, there was something new.

He is as much a victim as I am.

The next morning, I awoke in an empty bed. No false memories implanted. The morning was quiet, my mind my own. A note lay on the bedside table, penned in Silas’s hand — but I knew it was Gideon’s.

I closed my eyes, reaching out through Mind-Link. Elara. Access the secret maternity records. Find a Rogue named Lyra.

A long pause. Then: Serena… I found it. Lyra is just over a month with child. Silas is named as the sire.

The final ugly piece clicked into place.

You must initiate the Rejection, Serena!

No.

But he has betrayed you!

I will not grant him the satisfaction of a clean schism. I am not going to reject him. I am going to dismantle him.

And the tool of his destruction is already sleeping in my bed.