Chapter 2
I didn't go back to the bedroom that night. I couldn't.
Instead, I sat in the packhouse's empty kitchen, the pregnancy confirmation crumpled in my fist, and tried to feel something — anything — besides this hollow, ringing silence.
Eight weeks. My baby was eight weeks old.
And I'd just watched its father choose someone else.
The rational part of me said: tell him. Maybe it changes things. Maybe he'll —
No.
I'd spent five years waiting for "maybe." Maybe he'll notice me. Maybe he'll feel the bond. Maybe if I heal one more warrior, save one more life, prove my worth one more time —
Maybe was a poison, and I was done drinking it.
I pressed my hand flat against my stomach. "I'll protect you," I whispered. "Even if he won't."
By morning, I'd made my decision. I would leave quietly, sign the rejection papers, and disappear before Alaric could —
"There you are."
His voice hit me like a wall of cold air. I looked up. Alaric stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, still wearing last night's clothes. He looked annoyed — not guilty. Never guilty.
"Vanessa said you upset her last night. She's carrying my heir, Selene. I won't have you stressing her out."
I stared at him. "I didn't say a single word to her."
"Your presence upsets her." He said it like it was obvious. Like I was the problem. "I need you to stay in the east wing from now on. Don't come near our quarters."
*Our quarters.* The room that had been mine for five years — he'd given it to her overnight.
"Fine." My voice came out steady. Flat. "But I have something for you first."
I pulled the rejection contract from behind my back — the one I'd printed at 4 AM, hands shaking, eyes dry.
Alaric glanced at it. Then he laughed.
"Again with this? We've been through this, Selene. The council won't allow—"
"Your council answers to the Alliance Treaty," I said. "And Article 7 states that if a Luna is denied the marital bond for five consecutive years, she has the right to sever it unilaterally."
His smile faded.
"I filed with the Treaty Office this morning," I continued. "You have seventy-two hours to countersign, or it passes automatically."
For the first time in five years, I saw something crack in Alaric's composure. His jaw tightened. His eyes flashed gold — his wolf, rising to the surface.
"You wouldn't dare."
"I already did."
He moved fast — Alpha-fast — closing the distance between us, his hand gripping my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
"You think you can just walk away? After everything your family's bloodline brings to this pack? The healing? The alliances?"
I met his eyes without flinching. "You should have thought about that before you put another woman in my bed."
His grip tightened. I felt bruises forming.
Then — footsteps behind him. Vanessa appeared, one hand on her belly, eyes wide with manufactured distress.
"Alaric? What's happening? She's not — she's not hurting you, is she?"
He released me instantly, turning to her with that soft expression I'd never once received.
"It's nothing. Go rest."
Vanessa's eyes met mine over his shoulder. And there it was — that smile. Small, sharp, victorious.
She mouthed two words.
*"He's mine."*
I picked up my bag from the counter. Alaric didn't try to stop me.
But as I reached the door, he spoke — low, warning.
"If you walk out, don't think your father can protect you. The Thornfield alliance dies with this marriage."
I paused. Looked back at him one last time.
"My father isn't the one you should be worried about, Alaric."
His brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I walked out without answering.
Because in forty-eight hours, Dominic Ashford would be at the border. And everything Alaric thought he controlled was about to collapse.
Instead, I sat in the packhouse's empty kitchen, the pregnancy confirmation crumpled in my fist, and tried to feel something — anything — besides this hollow, ringing silence.
Eight weeks. My baby was eight weeks old.
And I'd just watched its father choose someone else.
The rational part of me said: tell him. Maybe it changes things. Maybe he'll —
No.
I'd spent five years waiting for "maybe." Maybe he'll notice me. Maybe he'll feel the bond. Maybe if I heal one more warrior, save one more life, prove my worth one more time —
Maybe was a poison, and I was done drinking it.
I pressed my hand flat against my stomach. "I'll protect you," I whispered. "Even if he won't."
By morning, I'd made my decision. I would leave quietly, sign the rejection papers, and disappear before Alaric could —
"There you are."
His voice hit me like a wall of cold air. I looked up. Alaric stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, still wearing last night's clothes. He looked annoyed — not guilty. Never guilty.
"Vanessa said you upset her last night. She's carrying my heir, Selene. I won't have you stressing her out."
I stared at him. "I didn't say a single word to her."
"Your presence upsets her." He said it like it was obvious. Like I was the problem. "I need you to stay in the east wing from now on. Don't come near our quarters."
*Our quarters.* The room that had been mine for five years — he'd given it to her overnight.
"Fine." My voice came out steady. Flat. "But I have something for you first."
I pulled the rejection contract from behind my back — the one I'd printed at 4 AM, hands shaking, eyes dry.
Alaric glanced at it. Then he laughed.
"Again with this? We've been through this, Selene. The council won't allow—"
"Your council answers to the Alliance Treaty," I said. "And Article 7 states that if a Luna is denied the marital bond for five consecutive years, she has the right to sever it unilaterally."
His smile faded.
"I filed with the Treaty Office this morning," I continued. "You have seventy-two hours to countersign, or it passes automatically."
For the first time in five years, I saw something crack in Alaric's composure. His jaw tightened. His eyes flashed gold — his wolf, rising to the surface.
"You wouldn't dare."
"I already did."
He moved fast — Alpha-fast — closing the distance between us, his hand gripping my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
"You think you can just walk away? After everything your family's bloodline brings to this pack? The healing? The alliances?"
I met his eyes without flinching. "You should have thought about that before you put another woman in my bed."
His grip tightened. I felt bruises forming.
Then — footsteps behind him. Vanessa appeared, one hand on her belly, eyes wide with manufactured distress.
"Alaric? What's happening? She's not — she's not hurting you, is she?"
He released me instantly, turning to her with that soft expression I'd never once received.
"It's nothing. Go rest."
Vanessa's eyes met mine over his shoulder. And there it was — that smile. Small, sharp, victorious.
She mouthed two words.
*"He's mine."*
I picked up my bag from the counter. Alaric didn't try to stop me.
But as I reached the door, he spoke — low, warning.
"If you walk out, don't think your father can protect you. The Thornfield alliance dies with this marriage."
I paused. Looked back at him one last time.
"My father isn't the one you should be worried about, Alaric."
His brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I walked out without answering.
Because in forty-eight hours, Dominic Ashford would be at the border. And everything Alaric thought he controlled was about to collapse.