Two Betrayed Lunas, One Cold Reckoning

Seraphina's POV

When I woke again, my gaze met the stark white ceiling of the Healing Hall above me. Ignoring the weakness that still clung to my limbs, the kind of weakness that came when a wolf's body had nothing left to draw on, I tried to push myself upright.

But before I could, a long and strong hand reached out from beside me and pressed me firmly back down.

It was Roderick. The faint crescent-shaped bite mark I'd left earlier was still etched into his wrist, raw against his scent of scorched cedar and cold iron, that something faintly rotten threading underneath it the way it always did now.

His brows furrowed as he forced me back against the pillow, and then he reached for a glass of juice.

"Drink some juice first," he said.

I pushed his hand aside without a second thought, my voice urgent. "Where's my pup? Where is she?!"

He answered as though I hadn't even asked. "Not a fan of cranberry? I'll have someone bring another."

My patience snapped. I knocked the glass from his hand, sending the dark red liquid splattering across the floor.

"You murderer!" I screamed. Somewhere beneath my ribs my wolf lunged at the bars of her own ruined body and got nowhere. "Where is my pup?!"

His expression darkened instantly. Rage flashed in his eyes, gold bleeding into the brown, and his Alpha aura cracked through the room like a dropped temperature as he slammed a fist into the wall.

"Pup, pup, she's all you ever think about! Let me tell you, because of you, Calla was frightened and lost so much blood she's on the verge of collapse! Until you make amends, I will never let you see that bastard again!"

My heart twisted like a blade was buried inside.

"She's not a bastard," I rasped, my throat raw. "She's your child!"

But Roderick's gaze was as cold as iron, unmoved by my pain.

"That brat is in the emergency room right now," he said flatly. "If you don't apologize to Calla, I'll order the healers to stop trying to save her."

The words knocked the air out of me. I slumped back onto the bed, my voice trembling.

"Fine… I'll apologize to her."

For a moment his expression faltered, surprise flickering in his eyes, but just as quickly it was gone, replaced by that familiar, impenetrable mask.

In silence, I let him drag me toward Calla's room.

We hadn't even stepped inside when chaos erupted from within. Roderick's Omega liaison burst out, panic written across his face, the dry-paper-and-weak-tea scent of him soured with fear.

"Alpha, the healer says Ms. Thornwood has lost too much blood, she needs an immediate transfusion!"

Roderick froze, then whipped around as if a thought had just struck him. Without warning, he yanked me into the room.

"Healer! Use her blood!"

The healer frowned, glancing from me to my thin hospital gown. His eyes widened.

"Alpha, this Luna is already weak from blood loss. Drawing more could put her in serious danger. We can easily call for compatible blood from the pack stores—"

Roderick's voice cut like ice.

"I'm not asking for your opinion. Just do as I say."

Under his unyielding demand, the thick needle pierced my arm.

I shut my eyes tight, forcing myself to endure the dizziness. I only wanted this over with. The sooner it was done, the sooner I could see my pup.

Roderick reached as if to smooth the deep furrow in my brow, but I turned my head sharply away. His scent came with the hand, cedar and iron and that faint rot, and my wolf shrank from it as though from silver.

"Seraphina," he murmured, voice low and falsely gentle, "I know you're in pain, but this is you paying for what you've done. Bear with it. It will be over soon."

I didn't so much as glance at him.

When it was finally over, my body gave out. I collapsed weakly onto the floor. The room had gone the kind of quiet where I could hear my own thinning heartbeat, and somewhere under it, my wolf had stopped making any sound at all.

As he moved toward the ward door, ready to rush to Calla, I forced my voice out, hoarse and faint.

"Now… can I see my pup?"

Even then, seeing me like this, he only scowled.

"You care so much for that brat," he said coldly, "but you still haven't apologized to Calla. Until you do, you won't see Wrenna."

I no longer had the strength, or the will, to remind him that my pup was his own blood, born of his own bloodline.

Four more days. Just four more days, and I could take her away for good.

When that day came, Roderick would never again be her father!