Chapter 4
The day of Lucas’s funeral, the skies held their breath. No rain, just wind—restless and cold.
The ritual altar was draped in silver cloth, blue banners fluttering at each side to symbolize purity.
But there was no purity in the air. Only silence. And absence.
Neither Alpha Alex nor Omega Isabella showed up.
I stood below the altar, trying to step closer.
A guard blocked me. “You’re not on the guest list.”
“I’m his mother,” I said quietly.
He didn’t even flinch. “Mother? You have the nerve to say that after what happened?”
I clenched my fists.
“You let him die. Some say it was intentional.”
Just then, a servant approached with a silver tray.
“Lady Omega Isabella sent this for you. A calming tea.”
On the tray, a small cup—and a folded note.
“Drink it. Consider it an apology for Lucas. —Omega Isabella”
I lifted the cup slowly. One sniff told me what it was.
Droproot. The herb used to sterilize she-wolves.
She didn’t just want to erase my son—she wanted to make sure I never had another.
I brought the cup to my lips, pretending to sip. Then I lowered it, my face unreadable.
She would never know I recognized the poison. I wouldn't even give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
After the ceremony, I returned to my quarters and found the door ajar.
Inside, the room was ransacked. My bed overturned. My crystal device—smashed beyond recognition.
The backup recording of the fire… gone.
I stood in the doorway, numb, staring at the broken pieces.
“What happened?”
I turned. Noah stood at the threshold, holding a small paper bundle.
“My mom said you looked pitiful. She asked me to bring you snacks.”
His voice was soft, face carefully arranged with concern.
I looked him straight in the eyes. “You told them I had hidden evidence. Didn’t you?”
His eyes widened, then lowered. “Why would you say that? I was just trying to help…”
He reached into his tunic and pulled out a folded parchment.
“I found this in my dad’s study. I thought you might want it. It looks important—something about fire insurance…”
Before he could finish, a passing patrol guard spotted the paper.
“What’s that in your hand?”
Noah froze.
“Alpha property?” The guard’s voice sharpened.
I stepped forward. “It was me. I asked him to—”
“Don’t lie.” The guard seized Noah and slammed him to the ground.
The parchment was torn from his hands and shredded before I could even blink.
Noah’s forehead hit the steps. Blood streamed down his face.
“You wicked woman! Using a child for your schemes?”
I tried to speak, but my voice caught.
Noah looked up from the ground. And in his eyes—something flickered.
A glint of calculation.
He wasn’t innocent.
He was Omega Isabella’s son through and through.
“You dare show your face here?” a sharp voice rang out.
I turned. Chloe stood at the top of the steps, her face thunderous.
“I came to report the destroyed device,” I said. “Someone doesn’t want the truth exposed.”
“Truth?” she barked. “You dare speak of truth?”
I held my ground. “Lucas died because of what this pack allowed. Because of what you—”
“Silence!” she descended, and before I could react, slapped me across the face.
“You cursed wretch! You killed my grandson!”
I stumbled. Blood welled at the corner of my mouth.
No one moved to stop her.
No one looked surprised.
Shadow wolf Daniel appeared just as I struggled to rise.
He knelt beside me, voice low. “Are you alright?”
I nodded faintly.
He whispered, “Lucas died from suffocation. Not burns. I’ve seen the full report.”
“Show me.”
“I’ll take you to it—”
But before he could finish, several guards stormed into the courtyard.
“Shadow wolf Daniel. The Alpha requires you in the judgment hall. Now.”
They seized him without a word.
I tried to follow, but he gave me a last look and shook his head.
Behind me, in the shadows, Noah stood silently.
He nibbled the snack he’d brought me, watching everything with eerie calm.
That look… it wasn’t confusion or fear.
It was satisfaction.
I returned to my quarters in silence, sat on the edge of the bed, and picked up the shattered tea cup.
Everything was broken.
They had taken my son.
Now they were trying to take my name, my voice, my place.
But I didn’t cry.
Not because it didn’t hurt—because I wasn’t allowed.
I swallowed the blood in my mouth.
