Chapter 2

Lucia was curled up in the silk sheets I had personally embroidered by hand—wearing one of my finest dresses, the ones I used to wear on full-moon nights just to impress Alpha Byron.

Now she was moaning beneath him. My husband. In our bed.

His ragged breaths mixed with the creaking of the bedframe, echoing down the silent halls in the dead of night.

At the height of their pleasure, Lucia’s foot accidentally knocked Byron’s phone off the nightstand. The screen shattered on the cold marble floor. The light blinked back to life, displaying a photo from our honeymoon in the Aegean Sea—frozen in time. A rare moment of love. A kiss beneath the sun.

The crack in the screen split my face from his like fate itself had carved us apart.

Broken glass can’t be mended. Spilled water can’t be gathered back.

Not long ago, I was still holding onto hope; I was still dreaming. If I gave birth to his heir, maybe Byron would come back to me. Maybe we could raise our son together. A family again.

But that dream died—just like my pup.

My baby had taken his first and final breath on that searing moonstone floor.

And I… I wasn’t even whole anymore. My wolf, Mia, had been ripped from me the moment I slipped unconsciously. It wasn’t supposed to be possible, but the agony had been too much.

Now I existed as… something else. A spirit. A soul trapped in a body too weak to shift, too empty to howl.

I thought that without Mia, the pain would be dull. But even now, I could still feel it. I could feel everything.

I heard Lucia’s honeyed voice drifting through the walls, purring softly, “Alpha Byron, I… I want to bear you another child. One that lives. One that will truly be the future Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack.”

My chest clenched so hard it felt like my ribs cracked inward.

Byron was right about one thing: Moonstones accelerated werewolf labor. That’s why my baby came so fast.

Too fast. Too soon. He was trying to save me. He didn’t want to see his mother suffer. So he came into the world—early, fragile, defenseless.

His umbilical cord still stretched from my body, tethering us together like a final act of love. I pressed my palm against the altar wall and screamed at the guards outside.

“I’ve given birth! My baby’s out—he’s burning! He doesn’t have fur yet; he can’t survive this heat! Please! Just take him to the Pack Doctor! Please, don’t let him die like this!”

One of them flinched. I saw it; his eyes softened. His hand even reached for the main switch.

But then… cheers erupted nearby.

Lucia’s voice rang out in the corridor, giddy and carefree:

“Today’s challenge—45-degree hot yoga!”

Her live stream was trending again. Over a hundred thousand werewolves were watching her every move, throwing her gifts and donations. She smiled, graceful as ever, while the muffled thumps of my fists pounding the altar wall became background music to her performance.

No one knew that behind her cheerful soundtrack…One child had already died. And another—mine—was moments away from turning to ash.

Then she slipped. Twisted her ankle and crumpled onto the mat.

Byron came running, arms already reaching. She collapsed into his chest and closed her stream, burying her face against his shirt.

“I just heard the guards say… Luna Hilda might’ve given birth,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I don’t know if it’s true, but... hearing about pups again, it just… it hurts. Right here.” She clutched her chest with shaking hands. “I can’t breathe, Byron.”

His jaw clenched. That was all it took.

He stormed next door and stood before the altar, his silhouette just visible beyond the fogged moonstone glass.

He peered in.

All he saw was a blur—my dark red outline, curled up on the blood-slick tiles.

No cries. No movement.

Only silence. And he snapped.

“This is your game now?” he spat. “Still trying to play tricks? Still using a fake pup to torment Lucia?”

He turned to the guards.

“Add more moonstones. Block the glass too—I don’t want her sending out any more pathetic messages.”

The guards hesitated.

Then he picked up moonstones himself and hurled them at the altar wall. Cracks spread across the surface, the view growing more distorted.

From inside, a faint cry escaped—a sound so small it could’ve been a kitten, or maybe… just maybe, a newborn.

He paused. For a split second, uncertainty clouded his face. Then Lucia appeared at his side like a viper in silk.

“Luna Hilda is really good at faking sounds,” she said softly. “Remember when we were first blessed as mates by the Moon Goddess? She swore it was her you spent that night with. Her voice... it’s scary how well she can imitate mine.”

And just like that, his doubt shattered. His eyes filled with disgust.

“Everyone out,” he snapped. “I’ll reopen the altar when Lucia is fully recovered.”

He waited until every Omega had left before walking away, leaving me behind like trash that refused to rot fast enough.

Inside the altar, I was barely breathing.

And beneath me…My baby—my sweet, defenseless pup—was turning purple, stiff, cracking apart.

Until all that remained of him was a tiny, charred body…burned black by the heat of the moonstone.