Genevieve’s POV

When we reached the car, Sabrina moved quickly, as though the front passenger seat already belonged to her. She reached for the handle without hesitation.

To my mild surprise, Nikolai caught her wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to stop her.

“Wait,” he said, then glanced toward me. “Genevieve… you can sit in the front.”

There was something almost regretful in his tone, as if offering me the seat could somehow balance everything else he had done.

“Sabrina can sit in the back.”

“No,” Sabrina protested at once, her lips forming a delicate pout. “I feel sick in the backseat. The pup’s been making me dizzy all day, Nikolai.”

I released a slow breath through my nose.

Nikolai paused, clearly calculating how to keep the peace between us.

“It’s irrelevant,” I said calmly. “She can take the front.”

“But—”

“I said it’s fine.” My voice sharpened just slightly. “I truly don’t care where I sit.”

A brief silence followed.

Sabrina’s mouth curved in quiet victory.

Nikolai frowned but didn’t push the matter further.

I eased myself into the backseat, biting down on the pain that flared through my body. Every bruise and stitch reminded me of the hospital bed I had only just left behind. My muscles protested even the smallest movement.

I rested my head against the cool window and focused on the passing streets, separating myself from the scene unfolding just feet away.

Five minutes into the drive, Sabrina began.

Her hand drifted casually onto Nikolai’s thigh. The movement was slow, deliberate. I didn’t turn my head, but I caught the reflection in the side mirror—the subtle slide of her fingers, the sideways glance she threw in my direction.

Nikolai stiffened.

“Sabrina,” he warned quietly, removing her hand.

She blinked at him with exaggerated innocence. “What?”

When he didn’t answer, she placed her hand back on his leg, this time moving higher.

“I said stop,” he said more firmly.

Instantly, her eyes filled with tears. She withdrew her hand and covered her face.

“Why are you snapping at me?” she whimpered. “I’m pregnant. You’re upsetting me.”

Nikolai exhaled heavily, irritation dissolving into concern. “I’m not snapping. Just… not while she’s here.”

He didn’t say my name.

As though I were nothing more than a presence in the background of my own life.

Sabrina sniffled softly before leaning forward to open the glove compartment. “I’m just looking for tissues,” she murmured.

What she retrieved was not tissue.

She held up a scrap of red lace between her fingers, letting out a soft laugh.

“Oh, Nikolai,” she said in a sugary tone. “Remember this? That night we never made it to the hotel? You pulled me onto your lap right here—”

“That’s enough,” Nikolai cut in tightly, his eyes fixed ahead on the road.

She gave a small shrug. “Relax. Genevieve understands it’s hormones. Pregnancy makes everything feel… heightened.” Her hand drifted back to his thigh.

This time, he didn’t move it away.

Through the rearview mirror, his eyes flicked toward me.

For a brief second, our gazes locked.

I looked away first.

There was nothing left in me for him to read.

—

The moment the car rolled to a stop in front of the sanctuary gates, I stepped out without waiting.

I didn’t look back.

I passed through the iron entrance and into the building my father had raised with his own hands long before the territory trembled at his name. The scent of aged wood and disinfectant wrapped around me. For an instant, memory pressed hard against my chest, but I forced myself to keep moving.

Mr. Ronan, the administrator, glanced up from his desk when I entered his office.

His eyes widened. “Miss Genevieve,” he greeted warmly, rising immediately. “We didn’t know you were coming.”

“I won’t keep you long,” I said. “There are urgent matters we need to address.”

We reviewed security logs, financial statements, and property deeds. I ensured every clause was airtight, every layer of protection reinforced. By the time we finished, I felt steadier than I had in days.

Then a scream shattered the calm.

It wasn’t playful.

It was terrified.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Another cry followed, sharper and desperate.

I didn’t hesitate. I rushed from the office, Mr. Ronan close behind me.

The scent reached me first.

Smoke.

Thick. Bitter.

It scraped down my throat immediately.

The screams were coming from the west wing—the dormitory housing the youngest pups.

I ran toward it, dread coiling tightly through my muscles.

When I reached the corridor, I stopped short.

Flames climbed along the far wall near the emergency exit. Smoke curled along the ceiling in heavy waves. Children were crying, some clustered near the stairwell, others coughing as staff tried to usher them away from the spreading fire.

For one suspended heartbeat, everything felt unreal.

Then instinct took over.

“Get them out!” I shouted, my voice cutting sharply through the chaos. “Use the east exit! Move now!”

My father’s sanctuary was burning.

Genevieve's POV

The west wing was engulfed.

Flames tore through the aging corridor like a living predator, devouring doors, curtains, desks—anything unfortunate enough to stand in their path. Dense black smoke coiled along the ceiling before spilling downward, invading my lungs the instant I breathed in.

Children were screaming.

Some had already been rushed into the courtyard, coughing and clinging to one another in terror. Others were still inside, their cries piercing through the chaos while caretakers fought their way deeper into the smoke.

“What happened?” I demanded, grabbing one of the staff by the shoulders. “How did this start?”

She was shaking uncontrollably. “Your stepsister… she was in the kitchen. She kept messing with the gas valves on the industrial stoves. We told her to leave it alone. Then there was a blast.” Her voice cracked. “It just exploded.”

For one blinding second, rage overtook everything.

Sabrina.

But fury could wait. The fire would not.

“Get every child out,” I ordered sharply. “Count them. I’ll clear the rooms.”

Before she could argue, I plunged into the smoke.

The heat struck immediately, scorching my skin and stealing the air from my lungs. I covered my mouth with my sleeve and forced my way down the hallway, kicking open doors and shouting over the roar.

“I’m here! Follow my voice!”

In one room, two small boys were crouched beneath a desk, faces blackened with soot. I hauled them up, one under each arm, ignoring the way my muscles screamed in protest. Every breath felt like swallowing fire, but I kept moving.

Room after room.

Pup after pup.

I did not stop.

My own child had been denied life.

These would not be.

Even if it cost me the last of my strength.

The blaze spread faster than I anticipated. The ceiling above crackled ominously, embers raining down around me. My vision blurred from smoke and exhaustion, but I pushed farther into the wing, checking the final rooms.

“Is anyone still inside?” I shouted, my voice rough and breaking.

No answer came.

After one last sweep, I staggered back toward the main corridor, coughing violently as the smoke thickened into something nearly solid.

I could barely see. The air was suffocating. One hand stayed pressed against the wall as I felt my way forward.

Then I collided with someone.

I stumbled back, nearly losing my balance.

“Sabrina?” I managed through a cough.

She stood a few feet away, face streaked with ash, eyes wide. When she recognized me, something like fear flashed across her features.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she choked, waving uselessly at the smoke. “I just wanted to frighten you. I didn’t think it would spread.”

For a moment, I couldn’t process her words.

“You lost your mind?” I shouted. “You set fire to a building full of pups?”

She shook her head frantically. “I only wanted to hurt you. I know how much this place means to you.”

Above us, the ceiling groaned.

“Move!” I grabbed her arm and yanked her aside just as part of the structure collapsed where she had been standing.

Debris blocked the nearest exit.

We were trapped.

Sabrina began sobbing, backing away from the flames. “I don’t want to die,” she cried. “Nikolai! Nikolai!”

Through the roar of the inferno, I heard it.

“Genevieve!”

Nikolai’s voice.

My heart faltered.

“He’s still inside!” someone shouted faintly from outside.

Moments later, he burst through the smoke, face smeared with ash, eyes wild. In his hands were two gas masks, likely taken from the emergency kit in his vehicle.

His gaze locked onto me first.

“Genevieve!” he shouted, pushing toward us.

For one fragile heartbeat, I believed he had come for me.

That I mattered.

Then Sabrina coughed weakly.

“Nikolai… I can’t breathe… the pup…”

His expression changed instantly.

He hadn’t known she was inside.

Without hesitation, he moved toward her.

“No,” I rasped, reaching for one of the masks.

He pulled them away from my grasp. “She needs them,” he snapped. “What if one fails?”

Before I could argue, he secured a mask over Sabrina’s face and lifted her into his arms.

The second mask remained in his grip.

Unused.

Our eyes met.

There was no apology in his.

No regret.

Only decision.

He turned away and carried her toward the exit, disappearing into the smoke.

And in that moment, clarity settled over me.

He had chosen.

The heat intensified. Flames crept closer, consuming everything in their reach.

My knees gave out.

There was barely any air left. My body felt impossibly heavy. My lungs burned, my skin blistered, but I no longer fought against it.

If this was how my story ended, then so be it.

Through the roaring in my ears, I thought I heard movement.

Then arms—strong and unyielding—wrapped around me.

A familiar voice cut through the haze, low and steady.

“I’ve got you,” he said near my ear. “Stay with me.”

I tried to lift my head, but everything felt distant and unreal.

“You’re safe,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

I didn’t need to see him.

Kael.

I let my weight fall against him as he carried me through the burning corridor, his voice steady and relentless while the world dissolved into smoke and darkness.

That day, the Luna known as Genevieve Virelli burned in those flames.

And something far colder rose from the ashes.

Nikolai Virelli—

One day, I will make you answer for this.