Chapter 19
The world tilted.
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One second I was climbing the stairs, the next -I was flying. My body slammed into the steps with a sickening crunch, tumbling hard, bone against wood, all the way to the bottom. My wolf let out a sharp, instinctive yelp in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t focus on her.
Pain exploded through me like wildfire, white–hot and blinding. Blood streamed down my face, dripping from my chin to the floor, and all I could hear was the children laughing.
My children.
“Deserved it!” Yolanda clapped gleefully, her little claws clicking against her palms.
“Who told you not to give us cake?” Leon added, sticking out his tongue, sharp little. fangs peeking through.
I stared up at them through the haze of blood and disbelief. My vision doubled, then. blurred. These were the pups I carried under a full moon, who I nearly died delivering. I remembered how my wolf had gone nearly feral
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with pain during the labor, how I’d bitten into a towel to keep from screaming too loud and waking the whole pack.
And now… they looked down at me like I was
some pest they were proud to squash.
The front door flew open.
Floyd’s voice was sharp and commanding. “What’s going on?”
I saw Monica glide in after him.
The moment they stepped inside, the kids did. what they did best–performed.
“Dad!” Yolanda sobbed dramatically, running into his arms. “She threw away our cake and
said she didn’t want us anymore!”
Leon wailed just as loud. “She yelled at us! She
hates us!”
Floyd’s eyes swept from the broken cake box in the trash to me, bloodied and trembling against the wall. His brows drew tight, but not
with concern.
No. Just judgment.
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“Jillian,” he said coldly. “Why are you making things so difficult with the pups?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Still gasping, I forced myself up, clutching the bannister like it was the only thing tethering me
to the earth.
“Why am I?” I started, the words catching in my throat. I wiped the blood from my mouth. and stared at him. “When have I ever deserved
anything in your eyes?”
He said nothing.
“You’ve always seen me as a breeding female. A Luna for convenience. A vessel to keep the bloodline pure.” My voice shook, but I didn’t look away. “If Monica is who you want as your Luna… and the pups already see her as their mother–then I’ll step aside.”
The air shifted.
Thickened.
Even Monica’s wolf seemed to stiffen. I could. feel it pulsing off her like a challenge not yet
spoken.
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Floyd’s eyes darkened, flicking with something unreadable. Anger? Guilt? Regret? Hard to say. He studied me for a long moment like he was only now seeing I had fangs of my own.
“You forget,” he finally said, his voice low, his Alpha aura radiating like a wave, “the
Ashenclaw Pack and Frostbite Pack bloodlines
were bonded by business, not love. You were always part of a trade. Don’t ask for something that was never promised.”
Love.
He said it like a curse.
I laughed. It cracked into a sob halfway through, bitter and broken.
Of course. Of course, I’d been that stupid.
“Floyd, enough…” Monica touched his arm delicately, her voice sugar–sweet and laced with faux concern. “The pups are scared.”
He looked down at her, nodded, then without a glance back at me, lifted both children into his arms and carried them upstairs.
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>
I stood there, dripping blood, alone in the foyer that used to be my home. And for the first time,
I didn’t feel sad.
I felt empty.
And that was worse.
Three days later, it was Leon’s birthday.
The celebration was held in the glittering ballroom of the Silverhowl Hotel–crystal chandeliers, champagne towers, golden wolf
crests carved into every polished surface.
Floyd spared no expense, as always..
I lingered near the far wall, beneath at shadowed archway, like an outsider invited out of courtesy and nothing more.
Monica was radiant in white. She stood at the center of the room with the pups flanking her
like twin moons in orbit.
Leon held one of her hands tight. Yolanda curled into her side, beaming at guests like the
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Not once did they look my way.
Floyd stood not far off, tall and aloof, at champagne glass cradled between two fingers. His eyes followed Monica’s every move with a softness I’d once prayed to see.
I never did.
“Alpha Floyd is still so devoted,” I overheard one she–wolf whisper, a sharp–nosed socialite from the Eastfang Pack. “He’s only ever had eyes for Monica.”
“Even the pups prefer her,” another added. “Look at them–they’re a picture–perfect
family.”
