Chapter 12
Alaric didn't accept my silence.
Over the next month, the letters kept coming — each one longer, more desperate, more raw than the last.
*"I replay that night constantly. You, in the doorway. The look on your face. I thought you'd come back like you always did. I was so certain you'd come back."*
*"Vanessa left after the miscarriage. She blamed me. Said I'd cursed her by not loving her enough. The irony isn't lost on me."*
*"My pack is fracturing. The warriors you healed — they hate me. They say I drove away the only Luna who ever cared about them."*
*"I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see you bleeding on that floor. And I realize I was in the next room, laughing."*
I read them all. Not because I cared — but because there was a grim satisfaction in watching him unravel.
Is that cruel? Maybe.
But five years of cruelty had earned me the right to witness his reckoning.
---
At thirty-two weeks, my clinic opened its doors.
The ribbon-cutting drew leaders from six territories. My father attended — the first time I'd seen him in five years. He stood at the back of the crowd, watching me speak, and I caught the shine in his eyes.
After the ceremony, he pulled me aside.
"You were always the strongest of my children," he said. Gruff. Unvarnished. The closest to emotion my father ever came.
"You doubted me."
"I doubted him. Never you." He glanced at Dominic across the room. "This one — he's different."
"He is."
"Good." My father squeezed my hand once — hard and brief. "You deserve different."
---
That night, Dominic found me crying.
Not sad tears. Not grief. Just — release. Years of pressure finally finding an exit.
He didn't ask what was wrong. He just sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me into his arms, my face against his chest, and held me until I was empty.
"Better?" he asked when I'd gone quiet.
"Better."
"Good." He pressed his lips to my hair. "Because there's something I need to tell you."
I pulled back, searching his face.
"Alaric has been making moves. Quiet ones. He's been petitioning the Continental Council to reopen the reclamation case — claiming new evidence."
Ice shot through me. "They already denied him—"
"I know. And they'll deny him again. But that's not what concerns me."
"Then what?"
Dominic's jaw tightened. "He's claiming that because the child was conceived under an active bond, and because Vanessa's pregnancy failed — he needs a Thornfield-blooded heir to maintain his dynasty. He's not just fighting for custody anymore, Selene."
He looked at me with something close to fury — not at me. For me.
"He's trying to have your child declared the Blackwood successor. Which would legally require the child to be raised in his territory."
My blood went cold.
"He can't—"
"He won't. I promise you." Dominic's hands framed my face. "But I need you to trust me for what comes next."
"What comes next?"
His eyes went hard. Determined.
"We end this. Permanently."
Over the next month, the letters kept coming — each one longer, more desperate, more raw than the last.
*"I replay that night constantly. You, in the doorway. The look on your face. I thought you'd come back like you always did. I was so certain you'd come back."*
*"Vanessa left after the miscarriage. She blamed me. Said I'd cursed her by not loving her enough. The irony isn't lost on me."*
*"My pack is fracturing. The warriors you healed — they hate me. They say I drove away the only Luna who ever cared about them."*
*"I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see you bleeding on that floor. And I realize I was in the next room, laughing."*
I read them all. Not because I cared — but because there was a grim satisfaction in watching him unravel.
Is that cruel? Maybe.
But five years of cruelty had earned me the right to witness his reckoning.
---
At thirty-two weeks, my clinic opened its doors.
The ribbon-cutting drew leaders from six territories. My father attended — the first time I'd seen him in five years. He stood at the back of the crowd, watching me speak, and I caught the shine in his eyes.
After the ceremony, he pulled me aside.
"You were always the strongest of my children," he said. Gruff. Unvarnished. The closest to emotion my father ever came.
"You doubted me."
"I doubted him. Never you." He glanced at Dominic across the room. "This one — he's different."
"He is."
"Good." My father squeezed my hand once — hard and brief. "You deserve different."
---
That night, Dominic found me crying.
Not sad tears. Not grief. Just — release. Years of pressure finally finding an exit.
He didn't ask what was wrong. He just sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me into his arms, my face against his chest, and held me until I was empty.
"Better?" he asked when I'd gone quiet.
"Better."
"Good." He pressed his lips to my hair. "Because there's something I need to tell you."
I pulled back, searching his face.
"Alaric has been making moves. Quiet ones. He's been petitioning the Continental Council to reopen the reclamation case — claiming new evidence."
Ice shot through me. "They already denied him—"
"I know. And they'll deny him again. But that's not what concerns me."
"Then what?"
Dominic's jaw tightened. "He's claiming that because the child was conceived under an active bond, and because Vanessa's pregnancy failed — he needs a Thornfield-blooded heir to maintain his dynasty. He's not just fighting for custody anymore, Selene."
He looked at me with something close to fury — not at me. For me.
"He's trying to have your child declared the Blackwood successor. Which would legally require the child to be raised in his territory."
My blood went cold.
"He can't—"
"He won't. I promise you." Dominic's hands framed my face. "But I need you to trust me for what comes next."
"What comes next?"
His eyes went hard. Determined.
"We end this. Permanently."