Chapter 1

Kaelin's POV

When I was nine months pregnant, my husband, Torin, forced doctors to extract my baby's cord blood to save his ex-wife's son. My baby died of suffocation ten minutes after birth, right before my eyes.

Instigated by his biological mother, my stepson sneaked into my room late at night and poured silver powder all over me. My skin rotted; the scars would last forever.

Later, the hospital ward caught fire, cutting off my escape. On the brink of life and death, Torin glanced back at me, scooped up his ex-wife, and walked into the safe zone without looking back.

Even later, he knelt in the ruins, hands dripping with blood, digging through the rubble brick by brick.

Until his subordinate stepped up behind him and choked out, "Alpha... we found the Luna's body."

——

Midnight. Torin’s hand slipped under the hem of my nightgown, tracing familiarly up my waist.

"Don't touch me," I said, swatting his hand away and rolling over.

"Kaelin, enough!" He sat up abruptly, suppressing his temper. "You’ve been avoiding me for a whole month. You won’t even step into Owen’s room, and you’ve pushed all pack duties onto others. As Luna, do you think you’re being responsible?"

I stared at the ceiling in silence.

Responsible.

"I know you still blame me for that accident," he softened his tone, reaching out to touch my face. "But we can have another baby. You can't hate Owen over one miscarriage. He's only eight."

"Accident?"

I turned my head and stared at my fated mate.

A month ago, I was nine months pregnant, just two weeks away from my due date. Owen suddenly developed a rare blood disease and urgently needed hematopoietic stem cells.

That day, Torin threw a mandatory surgery consent form in my face. I screamed myself hoarse, but he pinned my shoulders down and ordered the doctors to push the anesthesia.

My belly was cut open wide awake. Massive hemorrhage. I nearly died on the operating table. My nameless child was drained of his cord blood and bone marrow. He lived for exactly ten minutes before suffocating into a purple-black corpse right before my eyes.

This was the "accident" he spoke of.

"Owen needed to live." A flash of guilt crossed Torin’s eyes, quickly replaced by annoyance. "The doctor said your baby was congenitally weak anyway! Did you want me to watch my own flesh and blood die?"

His own flesh and blood.

Then what was my child?

On the day Owen was discharged, the eight-year-old wolf pup stormed into my ward and pointed at my pale face. "You homewrecker! Your dead little mutt deserved to be drained! It's what you owe me!"

Torin stood right there, petting his son’s head, and turned to me. "He’s just a kid. He just recovered, don't hold it against him. Relax, you can have plenty more."

At that moment, all my love and obsession for this man turned to ash, buried right alongside my dead child.

"Say whatever you want," I withdrew my gaze, my voice completely flat. "I'm tired. I want to sleep."

My sheer coldness panicked Torin. In the past, I would have cried and argued with him, desperately trying to prove how heartbroken I was.

Now, he was facing a stagnant pool of dead water.

"Kaelin, I didn't mean it like that..." His arrogance vanished completely. He clumsily tried to hug me again.

The phone on the nightstand lit up.

Myla.

Torin stiffened. He glanced at the screen, then stared at my face.

"Answer it," I said. "Maybe she’s not feeling well again."

He gritted his teeth and answered.

"Torin..." A weak, breathy voice seeped into the bedroom. "I'm sorry to bother you and Kaelin so late... but my heart hurts. I can't breathe. Can you come see me?"

"Go," I smiled at him. "You’re an Alpha, and Myla is Owen’s mother. You can’t just leave her be. I completely understand. Drive safe."

I didn't even furrow a brow. Torin’s suppressed, nameless fury finally ignited. He turned and kicked the bedroom door open as he stormed out.

The master bedroom fell back into a dead silence.

I sat up and touched my flat stomach. After all that pain, I didn't have a single tear left to shed.

My phone vibrated. A text from my friend Maren popped up:

"Kaelin! The final offer from Boston came through! Professor Silas personally reviewed your resume and requested you for his lab. The pack board granted special permission for you to delay your start date by two weeks to handle your personal affairs!"

I didn't hesitate for a second. My fingers flew across the screen.

"I don't need two weeks."

"Tell Professor Silas I will clock in exactly seven days from now."