I stayed in the healing den until noon the next day. While I was there, I received one message from Eamon: "Talia’s den is damaged from last night's storm, so I'm bringing her to stay in our pack house."
I knew right away it wasn’t him who sent it—it had Talia’s manipulative touch all over it.
When I returned to the pack house, I punched in the code at the door, but it didn’t work. Confused, I tried again. Suddenly, the door swung open, and there was Talia, wearing my apron, with a gleaming smile on her face.
“Stop trying to get in, Vivian. The code’s been changed,” she said, her voice dripping with smugness. “You know what that means... you’re not welcome here anymore. I’m in control now.”
I froze, her words cutting through me like the slash of a rogue’s claws.
“Just stay away from Eamon and me,” she continued, her voice hardening. “Let us be happy with our unborn pup. You’re nothing but an outsider now, a forgotten wolf.”
Her cruel words hit harder than any physical blow. I could barely breathe, the pain too raw, too deep. My hands trembled as I clutched the doorframe for support, fighting the storm of emotions swirling within me.
“Talia,” I managed, my voice shaking. “Why do you hate me so much? After everything… How can you be so heartless?”
Her eyes gleamed with malice as she stepped closer, pushing me back with surprising force. “Just leave! Get lost!” she spat, her face contorted with fury.
I stumbled backward, my heart racing. Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and Eamon stepped in, concern etched on his face. The second Talia saw him, her entire demeanor shifted in an instant.
“Eamon!” she called out, her voice suddenly sweet and full of innocence. She rushed toward him, throwing herself into his arms. “Look, Vivian’s here! Isn’t it wonderful?” She turned to me with a saccharine smile. “Come in, Vivian. Let me make you something warm to drink.”
Her words were kind, but her eyes were still cold and calculating. I stood there, rooted in place, wondering if Eamon could see through her act or if he, too, was blind to her manipulation.
Eamon glanced at me briefly before turning to Talia, his voice gentle. “Why don’t you go rest for a bit?”
Talia nodded sweetly, grabbed a handful of berries, and vanished into what used to be *my* den.
When she was gone, Eamon’s expression hardened. “So, you finally decided to come home?” His tone was sharp, filled with accusation.
I ignored his jab, keeping my voice even. “Is Talia… eating berries?”
He frowned, confused. “What are you talking about?”
I remembered the last time Talia had been pregnant. I’d prepared a meal for her, not realizing she was deathly allergic to berries. Her reaction had been severe, and Eamon had nearly torn me apart in his rage.
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, realizing he had completely forgotten the incident.
He let it go, but his eyes stayed fixed on me. “Well, clean up and get ready. It’s Talia’s birthday tonight, and I’ve reserved a private spot at the pack lodge for her celebration. Keep it light, though—don’t steal the spotlight from her.”
I couldn't help the sharp reply that slipped out. “I’m busy. You and Talia go enjoy yourselves.”
Eamon’s expression darkened with irritation. “Talia already told the pack you’d be there to celebrate with us. It’ll embarrass her if you don’t show. Look, I know you’re jealous because she’s carrying my pup, but that’s not her fault. Why are you always competing with her?” He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. Come tonight, celebrate her birthday, and afterward, I’ll grant you one request. You can choose anything—a trip to the Northern Mountains or wherever you want.”
I hesitated, then smiled faintly. “Alright.”
That evening, I dressed in my best leathers and arrived at the pack lodge, just in time for the festivities. As I entered the room, I saw Eamon’s gaze linger on me, his eyes momentarily wide with surprise.
Talia’s expression flickered with annoyance, but she quickly composed herself, her voice bright and welcoming. She introduced me to her friends with the same fake warmth she always used around Eamon.
Her long-distance mate, lounging lazily in the corner, was blowing smoke rings, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
A pack omega wheeled in a three-tier cake that Eamon had ordered for Talia, and the room buzzed with excitement.
As she stood before the cake, making her wishes, Talia clasped her hands together, her smile pure and radiant, like a cherished pack princess.
“I have three wishes!” she announced, her voice full of glee. “First, Eamon can’t call me his little wolf anymore!”
The wolves around us laughed lightly.
“Second, Eamon can’t ignore Vivian because of me!” she added, glancing my way with a wicked glint in her eyes.
“Third, I hope my fertility is passed to Vivian so she can carry a pup for my Eamon soon!”
Her final wish hit like a gut punch. Before I could react, my leather pouch slipped from my hand, and a piece of parchment fell out.
Eamon bent down to retrieve it. As he unfolded the paper, his face paled when he read the words: “Post-Abortion Recovery Ritual.”
He turned to me, his voice low and full of disbelief. “Vivian… what is this?”
