The silver shackles felt heavier with each step as we approached my former home. King Kael walked beside me, his stride purposeful and measured, his face an unreadable mask. I stole glances at him when I thought he wasn't looking, trying to decipher this man who had unexpectedly granted me a chance at justice.
"You're quiet," he observed, breaking the silence that had stretched between us since leaving the courthouse.
I lifted my bound wrists slightly. "These don't exactly put me in a talkative mood."
His golden eyes flickered to the silver restraints. "A necessary precaution."
"For your safety or mine?" I asked, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but something. "Both, perhaps."
I expected cruelty from someone in his position, or at least indifference. But there was something in his tone that wasn't unkind, just... cautious. Measured, like everything else about him.
As we crested the hill overlooking the pack territory, my heart began to race. This had been my home, these people my responsibility as Luna. Now I would return in chains, branded a criminal.
"What exactly do you hope to find here?" Kael asked.
"The truth," I replied simply. "Damon's financial records, correspondence with his partners. Evidence that it was him, not me, who laundered money through the pack businesses."
Kael nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And you believe he'll simply allow you to walk in and access these things?"
A humorless laugh escaped me. "No. But I know where to look."
We continued down the path toward the main house, the sprawling stone structure that had once been my home. As we approached, my steps faltered. There, on the front steps, stood Damon—and he wasn't alone.
Lilith was with him, her slender frame wrapped in his embrace, her belly visibly swollen with pregnancy. They were laughing about something, their postures relaxed and intimate. The sight hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs.
In my previous life, it had taken five years for him to replace me. This time, he hadn't even waited for my trial to conclude.
"Serena?" Kael's voice seemed to come from far away. "Are you alright?"
I couldn't answer. My feet carried me forward automatically, rage and pain fueling each step. Damon spotted me first, his smile vanishing as his arms dropped from around Lilith. She turned, her eyes widening with theatrical surprise before narrowing with unmistakable hostility.
"What is she doing here?" Lilith hissed, one protective hand moving to her rounded belly.
Damon stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of her. "I was wondering the same thing."
The casual intimacy of their positioning, the protective gesture—it was all so calculated, so perfectly designed to twist the knife. My hands trembled in their restraints.
"Hello, Damon," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Surprised to see me?"
His eyes flicked to Kael, then back to me. "I was informed you'd confessed to your crimes. I assumed you'd be serving your sentence by now."
"My crimes?" I stepped closer, ignoring the warning look from Kael. "You mean your crimes. The ones you convinced me to take the fall for."
Damon's face hardened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you?" I gestured toward the house with my shackled hands. "The money transfers, the falsified accounts, the offshore holdings? Ring any bells?"
"You're delusional," he spat, his mask of civility slipping. His gaze dropped pointedly to my restraints. "And clearly dangerous. You have no right to be on my territory."
"Your territory?" The words burned like acid. "I am still your mate, Damon. This is as much my home as it is yours."
Lilith let out a sharp laugh. "Mate? Is that what you think you are?" She pressed herself closer to Damon, her smile venomous. "A criminal with silver shackles has no claim to being Luna. You're nothing here."
I turned to Damon, searching his face for any flicker of the man I'd once loved enough to sacrifice everything for. "Tell me, when did you plan this? Was it before or after you let me confess to your crimes?"
A flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crossed his features before his expression hardened again. "I don't owe you explanations. You're not welcome here."
"Actually," Kael interjected, his voice calm but carrying unmistakable authority, "she is here under my protection, conducting an investigation sanctioned by the Lycan Council. You would do well to remember that interfering with Council business carries severe penalties, Alpha Damon."
Damon's jaw clenched, but he knew better than to challenge the Lycan King directly. The tense standoff was broken by a small voice from the upper floor of the house.
"Daddy?"
My heart stopped. Mira. My daughter.
She stood at the top of the stairs, peering through the railing, her small face curious and uncertain. Even from this distance, I could see how thin she'd become in the month since I'd been arrested. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes too large in her delicate face.
"Mira!" I called, my voice breaking. "Baby, it's Mommy!"
I moved toward the steps, desperate to reach her, to hold her just once. Damon stepped into my path with supernatural speed, shoving me backward with enough force that I stumbled.
"Stay away from her," he growled, his eyes flashing Alpha red. "You're a criminal. I won't have you near my daughter."
"My daughter," I corrected, fighting back tears. "Mira, sweetheart—"
"Clara!" Damon called sharply. An elderly Omega servant appeared at the top of the stairs. "Take Mira inside. Now."
Clara hesitated, her eyes meeting mine with a flash of recognition and pity before she quickly averted her gaze. "Yes, Alpha." She took Mira's small hand, gently leading her away despite the child's confused protests.
"Mommy?" Mira called, looking back over her shoulder. "Where's Mommy going?"
The door closed behind them, cutting off my view of my daughter. Something inside me shattered.
"You can't do this!" I cried, lunging forward again. "She's my daughter!"
Damon grabbed my arm, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh. "No. You're nothing but a criminal to her," he hissed. "Nothing but a bad memory."
I looked into his eyes—the eyes I'd once loved more than anything—and saw nothing but cold contempt.
"You won't get away with this," I whispered, tears streaming down my face as I stared at Damon. "Not this time."
His smile was cold, confident, cruel. "I already have."
My heart dropped.
