After Harrison left, the villa went dead silent. I waited from sunup to moonset, but he never returned. My empty stomach growled-even my wolf core felt hollow. Dragging my weak body to the rune-kitchen, I popped open the obsidian pressure cooker.

Big shock: only moonflower chicken soup left, with scrawny necks and bony bits. The good stuff? Gone. Harrison must've taken the moonstone-marbled breast meat to Quinn.

I stood there, then laughed hollowly. What did I expect?

I boiled a bowl of plain moonroot noodles in enchanted water. Just as I sat down, Harrison strode in. His eyes landed on my meager meal, and his brows furrowed. "You're carrying a pup, and this is what you eat? Moonroot has no Lunar energy!"

He ushered me to the obsidian dining table, pulling out a chair.

I gave him a wary look but sat, forcing down a few bites before pushing the bowl away.

"Not everyone has the luxury of someone cooking moonstone - infused meals," I said icily. "So I make do."

Harrison's face reddened.

"If you hadn't pushed my buttons earlier, I'd have taken care of you. And I left you moonflower chicken soup! You're pregnant-stop being so fussy. It's good for the pup."

His words made my wolf core ache.

"Stop!" I snapped. "The smell of moonflower makes me gag. How can I eat that?"

Harrison froze, looking sheepish. "I... forgot. I was with Quinn. She craved moonflower soup, and she's the one recovering." His tone turned accusatory. "You're not an invalid. It was just a vial of Lunar Blood. Stop acting like you're on the verge of passing out!"

His words slammed into my wolf core.

Quinn. Always Quinn.

Even with our pup growing inside me, I'd never be a match for her in Harrison's eyes.

It brought back memories of our bonding ceremony.

My family had constantly belittled me, saying I wasn't worthy of Harrison.

They claimed Quinn, with her Lunar - blessed scent, was his true mate.

They'd arranged secret meetings between them, using my name to draw Harrison out.

At first, he'd laughingly told me about it, but as time passed, he stopped mentioning Quinn's invitations. Now I knew-his resolve to stay true to me had crumbled long ago, replaced by the allure of Quinn's scent.

He noticed my silence and his tone turned softer.

"Okay, Luna, I get it. Carrying a pup and giving Lunar Blood-it's rough. Let me feed you some moonroot noodles."

He twirled the fork, holding the noodles out like he was trying to make amends.

That's when I caught it-the faint scent clinging to his sleeve.

Quinn's. My wolf core recoiled, and I dashed to the bathroom, emptying the meager contents of my stomach right into the obsidian sink.

When I finally stood up, I saw my reflection-pale, drained.

Harrison hovered behind me, looking flustered as he reached for my arm.

"Luna, are you alright? Should we call the pack healer?"

I wrenched my arm away. "Don't touch me."

His expression darkened in an instant.

As I stumbled back to the bedroom, his annoyed mutter followed me.

"So damn ungrateful. I try to be nice, and you act like I'm the enemy."

I hid in the shadows and overheard his words. Lying in bed, my breath came in ragged gasps, and I only realized my eyes had turned red when the tears started to fall.​

I first met Harrison at the Howling Night Gala, the most important event in our werewolf community. I was performing a traditional moon dance on stage, my movements synchronized with the rhythm of the drums. Harrison was the one playing those drums, his eyes closed as he lost himself in the music. Our community elder introduced us after the show, and from the moment I caught his scent-spicy and warm, like a bonfire on a cold night-I was hooked. His focus on creating the perfect beat was almost hypnotic.​

During rehearsal, I missed a step and nearly tumbled off the raised stone platform. In a flash, Harrison was there, throwing himself beneath me. He broke his right leg with a sickening snap, but I landed safely.​

I was shaking all over, scared out of my wits. He just pulled me close, his grip firm. "What's there to be afraid of? This leg will heal in no time. But if you'd gotten hurt? Your dance career, your place in the Gala-gone! I couldn't let that happen."​

Those words made me fall hard. I thought I'd found my forever. But now I know his passion for music doesn't mean he's got a faithful heart. He was into the dancer in me, sure. But Quinn, with her fresh, spring - like scent and energetic moves, has clearly caught his eye too.

I was half - conscious when Harrison padded into the room, carrying a bowl of warm moonroot porridge, the smell of honey and spices filling the air. "Babe, rise and shine. You can't starve yourself-it's bad for you and our little one."​

I stayed still, not even blinking. To my surprise, he didn't get annoyed. Instead, he carefully helped me sit up, his touch gentle. "Even if you're angry at me and don't feel like eating, think about the pup. It's so small, it needs every bit of strength. Have some porridge, and then you can chew me out all you want."​

His patience was eerie. I couldn't help but look at him. His hand held the bowl steady, and I caught a faint whiff of the nervous, almost desperate scent he always gave off when he wanted something. The last time he'd been this sweet, he'd tried to convince me to drop out of the Moonlit Dance Trials so Quinn could take my place.​

"You're carrying a pup now," he'd said then. "There's no way you can compete. Might as well let Quinn go-she's been itching to join that trial for ages."​

It clicked instantly. He wasn't being nice out of the blue. I grabbed the porridge from him, my expression cold, and stared him down. "Cut the crap. What do you want this time?"​

Harrison let out a strained laugh. "Come on, babe, what's with the attitude? Can't I just make you breakfast without some hidden agenda?"

"Fine. If you've got nothing to ask, I'll take this as a rare moment of kindness."​

His expression shifted, and I caught a sharp spike of anxiety in his scent, like he was terrified I'd see through his act. "It's about Quinn. She's been craving your shadowberry stew non - stop. I've already gathered all the ingredients. Just whip it up tomorrow, and I'll deliver it to her."​

Even though I'd braced myself, his words still hit hard. Memories flooded back. Growing up, I'd been the family's do - everything helper.

Quinn was the golden child. While she got to attend the exclusive Howl - Crafting workshops and the coveted Moon - Song training, I had to plead for months just to get money for basic herbology lessons.​

My dancing chance came from Quinn, too. She'd lost interest in the Moonlit Dance classes, but since the fees were paid, I'd jumped at the opportunity.

When she got jealous and wanted back in, our parents only let me stay to rile her up. I'd danced in the dusty training halls without proper wraps, while Quinn would "accidentally" stomp on my feet during group practice, then giggle with her friends. "Savannah, dancing without wraps? So low - class!"​

When Harrison proposed, I'd thought I'd finally escaped that endless cycle. But now I realized-it was just another form of the same old suffering. This time, the one tearing me apart was my own mate.