Beneath the Waning Moon

"They held me in the silver cell for three days before the healers dared release me to the secondary wing. I walked out before Leon could change his mind.

I woke to dripping water and the stink of nightshade.

The healer stood over me, scratching notes on a leather scroll. He didn't meet my eyes.

"One more shock," he whispered, "and your wolf retreats forever. You'll never carry young again."

I stared at the stone ceiling. "What did he pay you?"

His hand stopped. "I don't—"

"To keep me under while they cut out my pup's marrow. To end my bloodline." I turned my head. He stepped back. "What was the weight of the gold?"

His shoulders sagged. He thrust release papers at me. I marked them with unsteady fingers.

"Stay through the waning moon," he murmured. "Your spirit is barely anchored."

"I'd rather walk into blizzard than breathe here another hour."

I gathered my blood-stained clothes and walked out. My legs shook, but rage kept me upright.

...

The packhouse rose before me—timber hall I had chosen beam by beam, believing our pups would grow strong beneath its roof.

Now it smelled like a graveyard.

I pushed the oak door. Laughter spilled out, warm and obscene.

Lysandra curled against Leon's chest on the fur-draped settee. Her swollen, soft human feet rested in his hands as he massaged them with a gentleness I'd never known he possessed.

A sound escaped me—half laugh, half wound.

Seven moons pregnant with our pup, I'd asked him once to ease my aching paws. He'd tossed copper coins on the table, eyes never leaving his maps. "Summon a servant. I don't perform common labor."

Now he performed that same "common labor" with a soft smile, golden eyes warm with affection I'd once thought belonged only to me.

"You appear comfortable," I said.

Leon's hands stilled. He pulled away from Lysandra, predator-smooth, face tightening into Alpha armor. "You were ordered to remain in the healing wing. Why are you here?"

"Why?" I let the word hang. "Perhaps I grew weary of waiting for my fated mate to remember I existed."

His eyes darkened. "Do not begin this. Lysandra carries the pack's future. Your place is to see to her comfort."

My throat burned. "You sacrificed our young for her."

"Enough!" The command struck like a physical blow, vibrating through my bones in mockery of our bond. "If your grief hadn't unseated your reason, perhaps our pup would still draw breath."

The words drove into my chest like silver. I turned away before he saw tears. "I won't remain long enough to disturb your peace."

Outside the nursery den—the chamber I'd prepared with my own hands, singing to my unborn pup as I worked—I stopped.

It had smelled of cedar and pack-moss. I'd carved stars and running wolves into the ceiling beams, laughing while Leon teased me, amber eyes crinkled with affection I now knew was performance.

The door stood ajar. The air drifting out was wrong.

I pushed it wider and froze.

Gone.

The carved pup-bed I'd sanded with my own claws. The stuffed creatures sewn from shed fur. The midnight-blue drapes woven from my winter coat—all vanished.

Above the new cradle, carved in script I didn't recognize: Young Luca.

My heart cracked down the center, sound audible only to me.

I stepped inside. My pup's first image—captured in moonstone, only record of his perfect form—lay on the floorboards. The crystal frame lay in shards around it.

I knelt, reaching for it with fingers that remembered holding him. "My sweet boy," I whispered.

A sharp heel pressed down on my hand.

Pain seared as glass bit deep, drawing fresh blood. I looked up. Lysandra stood over me, eyes gleaming with unhidden triumph.

"How clumsy of me," she said, voice honey over venom. "Did I tread upon something you valued?"

"What sickness lives in you?"

She smiled, adjusting her gown over the belly—the heir he'd killed my pup to protect. "Don't be angry, little wolf. Leon granted me this chamber. He said you'd have no need of it, now that your... condition... has resolved."

Blood pooled beneath my hand. I stood, cradling my injured palm. "You're less than wolf."

"Oh, Seraphine," she gasped suddenly, voice rising to carry through the open door. "Why would you harm yourself? You might have simply asked me to leave!"

"I have done nothing—"

"Please!" she shrieked, backing toward the doorway with theatrical horror. "Stop! I'll leave, only don't hurt yourself because of me!"

Leon's silhouette filled the frame. He saw me—bleeding hand, shattered moonstone at my feet, blood on the boards—and his face settled into bored disappointment, as if I were a servant who'd spilled wine.

"What performance is this?"

"She stepped on the glass," I said, words tumbling. "She destroyed the only image of my—"

But Lysandra 's voice rose over mine, perfect in its brokenness. "I'm sorry, Leon. She became distressed when you said I could use this chamber. She seized the frame and... I tried to stop her..."

I stared, the lie so brazen it stole my breath. "That is not—"

"Enough!" Leon cut through, jaw tight. "I will not hear your delusions. I've indulged your instability beyond reason."

Lysandra moved to the dressing table. She lifted the moonstone pendant I'd carved during confinement, holding a fragment of my pup's first shell—the last physical piece of him I possessed.

"This is lovely," she said, turning it to catch light. "Might I wear it? For luck?"

"No, that is my—"

She let it fall.

Chain snapped. Stone struck floorboards. Shattered into luminous shards.

I stared at fragments glittering like frozen tears. My breath stopped. My knees struck floor. "How could you allow this? That was the only—"

"Seraphine," Leon said, voice flat and final as a closing door. "Do not begin again. Lysandra is carrying. She cannot sustain stress."

Lysandra pressed against his side, eyes dry despite sobs shaking her frame. "I didn't mean to distress her. The necklace simply... slipped."

He cupped her cheek. Thumb brushed her false tears away. "You bear no fault. It is merely jewelry."

Merely jewelry.

I pressed my bleeding hand against the boards, feeling splinters bite deeper. "It was not merely jewelry. It was the last connection to my pup. To our pup. The young you sacrificed."

Lysandra 's lips twitched, almost smiling where he couldn't see. "Poor creature. Perhaps the shaman should attend her, Leon. She's been unsteady since the rockfall."

"I do not need—"

"Perhaps Lysandra is correct," Leon said, golden eyes cold as winter sun. "You do require intervention."

Two enforcers entered, massive frames blocking the light.

"What is this?" I demanded, rising though legs shook. "Release me, Leon!"

He crossed his arms. "You've lost yourself again. You pose danger to the pack heir."

"I am not mad!" I shouted, tears streaming, voice breaking on the bond still crying out for him. "She's manipulating you—can't you scent the lie? She's destroying everything I am, and you hand her the tools!"

Lysandra wrapped arms around her belly, lip trembling with practiced precision. "Leon, I'm frightened. Don't let her near me. What if she harms the young? What if grief has driven her to true madness?"

That did it.

Leon's expression hardened into stone mask of the Alpha who'd once sworn to protect me, now turned against me. "Enough. Escort her to the isolation ward. Now."

"Leon, please—" I begged, voice breaking, bond shuddering with despair. "You're sending your fated mate away for her lies? You're breaking the mark for her?"

He didn't answer. He simply turned his back, hand settling possessively on Lysandra 's waist as if I were the threat, the enemy, the monster in this chamber I'd built with love.

Enforcers seized my arms, grip iron-tight, dragged me toward the stairs. Lysandra 's voice followed, sweet and poisonous, drifting down the corridor like smoke.

"Don't fear, Seraphine. I'll care for your fated mate most tenderly while you receive the help you so desperately require."

I screamed her name.

The heavy door slammed shut, leaving me in darkness as they hauled me toward the silver-lined cells where wolves were broken.