Layla
The moment I opened my eyes, the thick stench of damp stone and mildew hit me like a wall.
The cold bite of the underground cell, the water dripping from the ceiling, the iron bars—everything told me I was still here.
Alpha Tristan hadn’t even bothered to take me to a hospital.
I lay on a thin pile of straw that barely passed as a bed. My stomach ached like something inside me had been torn apart.
My vision was blurry, but I could make out a figure by my side—Doctor Carr, adjusting the IV in my arm.
He used to be gentle, kind. Now he looked like a man walking on shards of glass. Like I was a ticking time bomb.
“Ah, you’re awake, Luna,” he said, his voice low but laced with relief—and guilt.
“How long have I been unconscious?” I asked, barely managing a whisper.
Instead of answering, he handed me a folded medical report. Neatly printed, official letterhead and all—Pack Hospital’s seal stamped at the bottom.
I read it slowly. Every sentence sliced deeper than any blade.
Patient exposed to high levels of airborne silver particles... miscarriage confirmed approximately 2–3 hours after maximum exposure... foetus estimated at 3–4 weeks...
My hands shook. I didn’t even know I was pregnant.
I blinked rapidly, willing it all to be a nightmare. But it wasn’t. It was real.
The only night it could’ve happened—was during the last mating season.
Alpha Tristan had come to me drunk, reeking of wine, his eyes bloodshot. He wrapped his arms around me, slurred sweet words, dragged me into bed... and I let him.
I clenched my jaw. Now that memory made my skin crawl.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I whispered. “And Naomi... why haven’t I been taken to see her? What’s going on?”
Dr Carr lowered his gaze. “I’ve... been instructed not to answer questions about that.”
I stared at him sharply, wanting to let my emotions out—but what’s the point? Dr Carr was just following someone else’s orders.
Before he could reply, footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor.
Rovena entered. She looked refreshed—almost radiant.
The burns on her face had all but healed, hidden under flawless makeup. That smug little smirk still sat perfectly on her lips.
“Out,” she ordered coldly. “We need a little girl talk.”
Dr. Carr hesitated, clearly torn, but left anyway.
“I want to see Naomi. Let me out,” I said, my voice trembling.
Rovena didn’t say a word. She just stared at me, her eyes glowing faintly.
Then, I heard her voice—inside my head.
“No need to raise your voice, darling. Words only cloud emotions. Let me show you the truth.”
She reached out and before I could recoil, her fingers brushed my temple.
A surge of magic rippled through the air. The world around me twisted and shifted.
I saw Rovena standing just outside Naomi’s hospital room.
“I’m here on behalf of Luna Layla. She’s currently handling matters with the Rage Willow Pack alongside Alpha Tristan,” she told one of the administrative nurses, who then guided her toward Dr. Francis.
Rovena handed over an official letter of authority, complete with Alpha Tristan’s signature.
“She won’t make it,” Dr. Francis’s voice echoed through the vision. “But we could keep Naomi alive for a few more weeks if—”
“No,” Rovena cut him off sharply. “Alpha Tristan and Luna Layla have instructed me to bring Naomi back to the Pack House.”
“No… NO!” My voice caught in my throat, strangled by dread.
The next image shattered what was left of my heart.
Naomi—my daughter—her tiny body laid out stiff and cold, wrapped in a white blanket.
Rovena stood over her lifeless form, a satisfied smile curling on her lips.
“You and your mother have always been in my way,” she sneered. “Soon enough, your mum will join you in hell.”
“NO, NAOMI!” I screamed. “DAMN YOU, ROVENA!”
"Go ahead and grieve all you want. One pebble out of the way. My child should be Tristan’s heir, not that crippled thing."
Owen. Their bastard child.
My body shook uncontrollably. Tears streamed down my cheeks. The world fell apart around me.
“Please...” I choked. “Let me out. Just tell me where her grave is... please.”
Rovena smiled, slow and predatory, like a lion savouring the last breath of a dying deer.
“You can leave... if you do exactly as I say.”
“Really?” I said quickly, defeated. “I’ll do anything.”
She leaned in close, her breath brushing my ear.
“Starting tomorrow, you’ll scrub the dishes. Muck out the animal stalls. And when Owen cries at night, you’ll be the one to rock him back to sleep. You’ll be his babysitter, Layla. Not the Luna.”
I stared at her, stunned.
She stood straight, smoothed out her designer dress, then headed for the door. Just before stepping out, she turned back with a devilish grin.
“Oh, and don’t forget... Owen’s birthday party is next week. Make sure you show up in your omega uniform, yeah? No acting high and mighty. You’ll be his nanny—in front of the entire pack.”
She gave a little giggle, then vanished beyond the bars.
I collapsed back onto the floor.
The world spun. My heart felt hollow. I hadn’t just lost Naomi.
I’d lost my dignity. My future. Even my identity as her mother.
All that remained... was pain.
But beneath the agony, something else stirred. A flame.
I would endure what I had to—until the day I made them pay.
