Chapter 2

I didn't sleep. I wasn't grieving anymore. I was counting. Every sacrifice, every swallowed word, every night I waited up for him. The list was long enough to fill a courtroom.

At seven a.m., I went back to the Alpha house.

Caleb was in the kitchen, pouring coffee like nothing had happened. He glanced up, mildly surprised.

"Where were you last night?"

No panic. No guilt. Just mild curiosity, like I was a package delivered to the wrong door.

"The infirmary," I said.

He frowned. "Are you hurt?"

"I lost the pup."

His mug stopped halfway to his lips. Something flickered in his eyes, shock, maybe even pain. Then it was gone, replaced by his Alpha calm.

"Why didn't you link me?"

"I did. You blocked me. Then I texted. You read it."

His jaw tightened. But instead of reaching for me, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"I was at a border meeting with Shadowfang. Tense negotiations. I had the link closed."

The lie came so smoothly I almost admired it. My neck still throbbed where his mark had burned all night. He'd forgotten that a Luna feels everything.

Or he'd never cared enough to remember.

"I see," I said.

He studied me, unsettled. For three years, I'd always been the one to smooth the silence. My calm was foreign territory.

"Look," he said, using the soft voice he saved for difficult allies. "I'm sorry about the pup. We'll make another one when you're ready."

Make another one. As if our baby were a broken tool he could replace.

"Sure," I said, and went upstairs to pack.

He followed and leaned in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"Taking some things. I need space."

"Space?" He almost laughed. "Sera, you're being dramatic. Come down, I'll cook—"

"Don't."

One word. It stopped him cold. I had never interrupted him. Not once.

I packed a single bag. I left every jewel he'd given me, every gown his mother picked, every trace of the woman I'd pretended to be. On the dresser, I placed the silver Luna circlet, the crown of his pack. It had always felt heavier than it should.

He noticed it as I reached the stairs.

"Seraphina." His voice dropped. "Put it back on."

"No."

He crossed the room in three strides and caught my wrist. Then he did the one thing he'd never done to me.

He used his Alpha voice.

"Stay."

The command rolled through the house like thunder. Downstairs, I heard a warrior's knees hit the floor. Every wolf in his pack would have frozen.

I didn't.

I looked down at his hand on my wrist. Then up at him.

"Let go of me, Caleb."

His eyes widened. He let go, staring at me as if I'd grown a second head. An Alpha command doesn't fail. Not on a stray. Not on anyone.

"How did you—"

"Grief," I said. "It makes you numb."

It was the first lie I'd told him in years. It felt wonderful.

"We'll talk when you've calmed down," he muttered, but his voice had lost its edge.

I walked out without another word.

In the car, my phone buzzed. Years ago, I'd synced his phone to mine so I could manage his pack calendar. He'd clearly forgotten.

A message from Vanessa.

"Last night was perfect, Alpha. Tell her soon. Our pup deserves a father who isn't hiding. 🐺💕"

I read it once. Twice.

Our pup.

My baby had died last night on a cot in the infirmary.

And his mistress was carrying his heir.

I took a screenshot. Then I smiled for the first time in months, and it wasn't a nice smile.

Evidence: secured.

War: declared.