Chapter Two
The nausea slammed into me before I was fully awake.
One breath, one twitch of my limbs beneath the furs, and my stomach revolted. I barely made it to the chamber’s wash basin before collapsing to my knees, heaving. Acid burned my throat. My claws scraped against the polished stone as I gripped the edge of the basin, cold sweat soaking the back of my nightdress.
Stress, I told myself. It had to be stress.
The emotional wreckage of the past moon-cycle had finally caught up with me, and now even my body was turning against me.
I rose shakily to my feet, splashing water on my face, the reflection in the enchanted mirror clouded by steam. As I wiped it clean, my eyes caught the calendar etched in silver script on the wall beside it. Days scratched through by claw-tip.
I stared. My pulse fluttered.I was late. Not by a night or two—but by almost two full weeks. My heart seized in my chest. I had been too consumed by betrayal and survival to even notice.
A tremble stole through me as I rummaged through the wooden drawer beneath the basin. Past vials of wound balm, fertility blockers, old herbs from the pack healer… and then I found it. A thin stick wrapped in parchment.
A lunar pregnancy test. One that reacted to a she-wolf’s blood and scent.
My hands shook as I pricked my finger and waited. The seconds stretched. A faint hum of magic stirred the air. Then—two glowing marks, bright and undeniable.
Pregnant.
The world tilted around me.If this had been before—just one day earlier—I would have run to Ronan , heart bursting, ready to tell him he was going to be a father. We would have howled beneath the moons, bathed in joy. I had even prepared a gift, hidden under our bed—wolf-crafted swaddling cloth and a carved token with our family sigil.
But that dream was dead.Instead, his words echoed inside me. Cruel. Cold. “She was just the safest option.” “She lost her voice and her wolf—it made her easy.” And Suzanne, mocking, “I hit her. You should have let her speak.”
A low growl rumbled in my chest. My claws scraped the basin edge.
Then—three soft knocks. My body stilled.
“Love?” Ronan ’s voice, muffled through the thick oak door, still smooth and honeyed. “Are you well?”
I stiffened. My stomach twisted again, not from the pregnancy—but from the sheer bile of rage.
He was back.I hid the test quickly behind the mirror’s panel, splashed more water on my face, wiped away the evidence of tears, and forced a soft smile. Then I unlocked the door.
He stood there, tall and polished, his Alpha aura curling around him like mist. He looked every bit the doting mate—concern shadowing his sharp features. His eyes flicked from my pale face to the shattered glass on the floor, and the thin line of blood on my palm.
His fingers moved in swift sign. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
I lied. “I’m fine. Just felt… faint. Knocked the glass over.”
He brushed past me, retrieving the healing salve from the shelf. “Careful,” he signed, smiling faintly. “You’re too precious to risk over something small.”
If I hadn’t known better, I might’ve believed him.But I did know better.
He dabbed the salve on my hand. As he did, he muttered under his mind, low and careless, thinking I still couldn’t hear.
“Useless she-wolf… breaking things like a feral mutt.”
My blood iced.I didn’t move. Didn’t react. Just watched him, silent and cold, as he bandaged the wound.Still unaware. Still thinking I was mute, deaf, harmless.
I thought back—years ago, at the orphan den run by Elder Faela. Ronan had come with his mother to donate supplies. He’d smiled at me then. Spoken to me like I was seen. Not just another discarded pup in a crumbling Pack.
And then the accident. The rogue attack. The carriage overturning. Ronan dragging me out, but not Suzanne.
I’d lost my voice and my wolf that night.
And Ronan had gained the perfect excuse to bind me to him.He pulled away with a final tug of the bandage. “I’ll be gone for a few days,” he signed. “Pack business.”
I nodded slowly. “Safe journey.”
Just then, his comm crystal vibrated on his belt. The voice that spilled from it was silk and venom.
“Where are you, Alpha mine?” Ciliapurred. “I’m already in your den. Naked. Waiting.”
Ronan grinned, casting me a glance as he silenced the call. “Leaving now,” he signed. “Try to rest. You look pale.”
I gave him a single nod.He kissed my forehead before striding out the door, the air disturbed by his exit.
The second the door sealed behind him, I locked it.Then my knees gave out. I sank to the cold floor, hands pressed to my belly, sobs racking me. My wolf whimpered deep inside, mourning—not for him—but for what could have been.
This pup… this tiny life… had been conceived in deceit. In lies.And I would not bring a child into this poisoned den.
That night, under the violet moons, I rode my wolf form to the healer's hidden grove. The procedure was swift. Clean. Painful only in the way heartbreak always was.
The physical pain passed. But the grief clung to me like a second skin.I stayed in the grove’s guest den for three nights. Ronan never sent a hawk. Never asked where I was. Not even to keep up the lie.
On the fourth morning, the healer handed me my discharge rune, wrapped in red cloth. I held it tightly, a symbol of choice. Of freedom.As I stepped outside into the golden sunlight, ready to disappear from this cursed Pack forever, a voice called out behind me.
“Oh, moon above…”
I turned sharply.An older she-wolf stood there, elegant in fine wool, silver rings gleaming on her fingers, and tear-filled eyes locked on mine. Her scent was noble. Ancient. Alpha-born.
She stepped forward, trembling.
“I’ve searched every province. Every Pack. And now…” Her voice cracked. “You… You’re the lost child of House Vargan.”
I blinked. “What?”
She reached out, gently brushing aside my hair. Her fingers landed on the small crescent-shaped birthmark just below my ear—something I’d always thought was meaningless.
She gasped. Her knees wobbled. “That mark… only the daughters of our bloodline bear it.”
My world tilted again.The Vargans. The ancient bloodline. Royal werewolves. One of the oldest Houses tied to the Moon Council.
“I thought you died during the rogue siege,” the woman whispered. “But you were taken, weren’t you? Hidden. Stolen.”
I stepped back, stunned.
“You are a Vargan,” she whispered, tears spilling. “And you’re finally home.”
