For five years before I ever wore his mark, I loved Alpha Matteo Strongclaw without daring to say it aloud. I stood in the shadows of his world, content with stolen glances and quiet hope. Then I spent another five years as his Luna, convincing myself that loyalty and patience could one day soften a man’s heart. To stand beside him openly, to bear the name Strongclaw, my mother gave her life. And to finally walk away from him, I lost my daughter.

My mother had served the Strongclaw estate nearly all her life. She was not merely a servant; she moved through those halls like a silent guardian, always at Helena Romano’s side—the former Luna of the pack and Matteo’s mother. Day and night, she attended to Helena’s needs with unwavering devotion. The family trusted her completely. They rewarded her years of service with steady raises and quiet appreciation, but more than that, they relied on her presence as if she were part of the foundation of the estate itself.

Everything changed on a single night.

She had accompanied Helena to a private shopping district owned by one of the pack’s allied territories. On their way back, the car was forced to a stop by armed men. They were failed merchants whose businesses had collapsed after a deal with the Strongclaw pack, desperate enough to attempt kidnapping the former Luna for ransom.

When the car door was yanked open, my mother did not hesitate.

She was no warrior, no trained she-wolf with claws honed for battle. She was aging and unarmed, yet she threw herself in front of Helena without a second thought. The attackers had expected fear, not resistance from someone like her. In the chaos, one of them drew a blade.

She fought with nothing but her hands and a will stronger than any weapon. She delayed them just long enough for the pack guards and patrol enforcers to arrive. Helena was pulled to safety without a scratch. The kidnappers were subdued and taken away.

My mother remained on the pavement, blood pooling beneath her.

Helena’s face had turned ashen. She knelt beside my mother, gripping her hand tightly, begging her to hold on until the healers arrived. But my mother already knew what her fading strength meant. Even as her breath grew shallow, she did not speak of pain. She spoke of me.

She knew I had admired Matteo since I was a foolish girl.

With the last of her strength, she asked Helena to promise that I would one day become his mate.

Helena stiffened at that request. She was fully aware that her son’s heart had long belonged to another she-wolf. But as my mother’s trembling hand grew weaker in her grasp, Helena closed her eyes and swore she would see it done.

Through tears, she promised that I would marry Matteo.

My mother died believing she had secured my future.

At her funeral, whispers spread among the pack members. Some said fate had been cruel yet strangely generous. I had lost my only family, but in return I would gain a place in the most powerful pack in the territory. They spoke of prestige, protection, and status.

None of them understood that I would have given up every bit of it just to have my mother breathe again.

My father had died when I was still young. My mother and I survived by leaning on each other. She never realized she was my entire world.

On my wedding day, Helena held my hands and wept openly. “Your mother can finally rest in peace,” she told me, her voice breaking.

I nodded, though I felt hollow, as if my emotions had been drained from me.

Matteo played his role flawlessly in front of the gathered Alphas and allied leaders. He smiled when required, placed his hand at the small of my back, and spoke to me with polished courtesy. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to believe that perhaps affection might grow from proximity.

That fragile hope shattered once the doors closed and we were alone.

He stepped close enough that I could feel the chill radiating from him. “You used your mother’s death to bind me to this marriage,” he said quietly, his tone devoid of warmth. “Are you satisfied now? The she-wolf I love is not you. I agreed only because my mother demanded it. Before the pack, I will honor my position. In private, understand this clearly—my heart is not yours.”

He never broke that promise.

In public, he treated me with measured respect. I was given everything expected of a Luna—jewels, gowns, authority over household matters. But our marriage was a carefully maintained illusion, no more real than a painted backdrop.

When Elodie was born, he did not smile. He stood beside the infirmary bed and looked down at our daughter with detached indifference.

“Now neither my mother nor I owe you anything,” he said.

I believed that once he held her long enough, something inside him would change. I convinced myself that time would bridge the distance between us.

Time only revealed how foolish that belief was.

After Elodie’s birth, I was the only one still clinging to that fragile illusion.

A marriage bought with one life would now collapse because of another.

When I left the Strongclaw estate, I returned to the small, aging apartment where my mother and I had once lived. I carried Elodie’s ashes with me. The pack cemetery, controlled by the Strongclaw council, required a three-day waiting period before burial rites could be completed.

On the day of her interment, I had just unlocked the apartment door with the urn cradled in my arms when a powerful force struck me from behind. The impact sent me crashing to the floor. I barely managed to secure the urn before it slipped from my grasp.

I looked up and saw Matteo standing over me, fury burning in his eyes.

Behind him stood Valeria Castillo, flanked by armed pack enforcers. A pale mask concealed half her face.

Matteo stepped over me as if I were an obstacle in his path and stormed into the apartment without permission. He called Elodie’s name sharply, like a commander summoning a disobedient subordinate. Doors were kicked open one after another as he searched, his irritation growing with each empty room.

When he returned, he seized my collar and yanked me upright. “Where is Elodie?” he demanded. “Tell her to come out now.”

I tightened my hold on the urn. “You don’t have the right to say her name,” I replied evenly. “Take your chosen she-wolf and leave.”

That only fueled his anger.

“Watch your tone,” he warned, his eyes flashing. “Don’t force me to remind you how to speak properly.”

He continued, “You encouraged Elodie to do something vicious. I was willing to let her apologize, but you interfered. Have I been too lenient with you all these years?”

Cold dread settled in my chest. “What exactly are you accusing her of?” I asked. “As long as I’m breathing, you will not shift blame onto her.”

For a brief, foolish instant, I had thought he might have learned of her accident and come to accompany us to the cemetery.

Instead, Valeria stepped forward and slowly removed her mask.

Red rashes covered her cheeks and jaw. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked at Matteo. “It’s fine,” she murmured softly. “Perhaps Elodie didn’t understand what she was doing. She probably didn’t mean to trigger my allergy.”

Her feigned gentleness ignited him further.

“Stop defending her,” Matteo snapped. “Serena put her up to it. She used Elodie to damage your face.”

My thoughts went blank.

“That’s your daughter,” I shouted, my voice shaking. “What are you planning to do to her over this woman?”

His hand struck my face before I could finish. The blow was sharp enough to make my ears ring.

“I told you to mind your words,” he roared. “Has no one taught you discipline since your mother died? You instructed Elodie to pour alcohol into Valeria’s skincare. You knew she’s allergic. How could you be so malicious? And now you’re hiding behind a child?”

Fury surged through me. “Elodie is five,” I shot back. “Do you think she even understands what alcohol is? It has a strong scent. It evaporates quickly. Anyone would notice. Yet Valeria applied it to her own skin, and you believe this absurd story?”

He cut me off with a shout. “Elodie was the only one who entered Valeria’s room. There were no servants present. The security footage confirms it. Stop denying it. After I question you both, I’ll hand you over to the authorities if necessary. Now bring her out.”

His voice filled the cramped apartment.

He was demanding to see a child who had already turned to ashes in my arms.

My teeth ground together so tightly my jaw throbbed, but I forced myself to speak clearly. “You keep waving around this so-called surveillance footage. Then let me see it. I won’t stand here while you stain my daughter’s name with lies.”

Matteo did not argue. He unlocked his phone in a few swift motions and thrust it toward me, the device nearly striking my chest as if he were presenting proof before a council of Elders.

The screen displayed security footage from inside the Strongclaw estate. A small figure entered the frame—a child wearing a dress identical to the one Elodie had worn that afternoon. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed her face, obscuring her features. Her steps looked slightly uneven as she slipped into Valeria’s bedroom.

The girl approached the vanity, pulled a small bottle from her bag, and emptied its contents into a jar of skincare cream. The recording ended abruptly there, cutting to black.

My gaze dropped to the timestamp.

Two days ago.

By that hour, my daughter’s body had already been reduced to ash beneath the sacred pyre.

A hollow sound escaped my throat, something between a laugh and a sob, while tears slid freely down my cheeks.

Valeria moved closer with deliberate grace, her voice trembling as though she were the injured party. “Serena, I’m not accusing anyone,” she said softly. “I only want to understand why Elodie would do this. She’s still young. It’s our responsibility to guide her before she grows up believing this kind of behavior is acceptable.”

Her performance made my blood burn.

I rose abruptly and spat directly onto the red, irritated skin of her cheek. “Stop pretending you care about my daughter,” I said, my voice icy. “You don’t even know who that child in the video truly is, yet you’ve already decided it must be her. Or are you so eager to take the Luna’s place that you’re willing to frame a five-year-old to get it?”

The last thread of Matteo’s restraint snapped.

Before I could brace myself, his boot drove hard into my abdomen. The impact stole the air from my lungs. My fingers loosened instinctively.

The urn slipped.

It struck the concrete floor with a dull crack. The lid flew off and rolled away. The container tipped over, and a pale gray cloud spilled outward, scattering across the rough ground beneath the stark hallway lights.

For a heartbeat, everything inside me went still.

All I could see was that fragile dust spread across the floor.

Then my scream ripped through the narrow corridor.

Ignoring the sharp agony twisting in my stomach, I fell to my knees and threw myself over the ashes as though I could shield them with my own body.

Matteo lifted his chin slightly and gave a subtle signal. Two pack enforcers stepped forward immediately, each seizing one of my arms and dragging me upright despite my frantic resistance.

My eyes never left the floor. My lips moved, but no sound emerged.

Matteo crouched in front of me, his voice lowering into a dangerous murmur. “Where is Elodie? I’m asking you one final time.”

I could not answer. My mind felt hollowed out.

He rose slowly, nodding to himself as though confirming his own suspicions. “So you choose silence. You think disfiguring someone is amusing?”

One of the enforcers handed him a bottle of medical alcohol.

He twisted off the cap and poured the liquid directly onto the ashes scattered across the concrete. The clear fluid soaked into the gray powder, turning it into a dark, sludgy paste.

Without hesitation, he crouched again, scooped up a handful of the mixture, and smeared it across my face.

The cold shock made my entire body shudder, but he only pressed harder, grinding the paste into my skin as though determined to make me feel every grain.

“Since you enjoy these tricks,” he said mockingly, “let me return the favor. How does it feel? Answer me. Can you hear me speaking to you?”

The alcohol seeped into the split skin his earlier slap had left behind. A fierce burning sensation tore through my face, contorting my features as I cried out in pain. My voice echoed down the aging hallway.

He showed no sign of hesitation.

“You want a separation?” he said coldly. “Fine. I’ll grant it. But forget about ever seeing Elodie again.”

He wiped his hands carelessly on one of the enforcers’ suits as though cleaning off dirt, then pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant.

“Contact the authorities and find out where Serena is hiding Elodie,” he ordered. “Tell the lawyer to draft the separation papers immediately. I’m claiming full custody of my daughter.”

There was a brief pause on the other end before a hesitant voice responded.

“Alpha Strongclaw… Elodie has already passed. She was cremated. The accident occurred the night you attended the banquet with Ms. Castillo. She was struck by a motorcycle.”

The voice faltered, then continued more quietly. “We tried to reach you but couldn’t. On Luna Serena’s instructions, I arranged a burial plot. Today is the scheduled interment.”

The hallway fell silent.

The stillness pressed in on us, thick and suffocating, like the ashes still clinging to my skin.