But I didn’t release the urn.

My pup. My last fragment of him. My arms locked around it as if loosening my grip would end me.

Malven’s voice thundered through the stairwell, thick with Alpha fury. “Have you lost your senses, Viora? You dare disgrace my parents inside my own den?”

I blinked, swallowed blood, and said nothing.

He stalked closer. “My mother told me everything,” he snarled. “You insulted her. Picked up her tea. Threatened our lives.” His nostrils flared. “Do you find that amusing? Playing the mad Luna?”

I opened my mouth—and pain exploded.

My head snapped sideways. Fire tore down my spine. The taste of iron filled my mouth.

Rivelle’s voice drifted down the steps, sweet and venomous. “Malven… please don’t harm her. She isn’t worth it. She’s just… unstable. You know how fragile she is.”

He turned to her, and the rage vanished instantly—softened into something almost gentle.

“You’re too merciful,” he said quietly. “That’s why she still forgets her place.”

Rivelle sighed. “She’s been strange all day. I tried to understand her, but… she hates me. I can feel it.”

From the couch, Ryke didn’t even pretend concern. His sound-crystals hung loose around his neck, music still humming. He smirked at me.

Entertainment. This was sport.

None of the servants intervened. They gathered at the archway, whispering like restless spirits.

“She’s still holding the urn…”

“She never raised a claw…”

“I heard she went to the sea cliffs alone… with the ashes…”

My heart had turned to ash long before they spoke.

Malven’s gaze finally dropped—to my arms, to the white moon-urn cradled against my chest like a newborn.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Before I could move, he tore it from my grasp.

“No—!”

Too late.

He held it as if it were refuse. Turned it over. Scoffed.

“You carried this through the city? Wailing for strangers?” He shook it lightly, as if expecting sound. “What is this? Another pitiful performance?”

My breath stopped.

“It’s an urn,” he sneered. “Who died this time? Your pride?”

Rivelle laughed softly behind him. Ryke snorted.

Blood dried at my lip. My face burned. I spoke.

“Give it back.”

Malven lifted it higher, mocking. “Why? Who’s inside, hmm? You collecting remains now?”

I didn’t blink.

“It’s Elian,” I said quietly.

Silence fell like a snapped bond.

Malven’s grip stiffened. Rivelle’s smile vanished. Ryke’s gaze dropped. The servants stopped whispering.

One long breath passed. Then…

He let go.

“No—!!!”

The urn struck the floor.

A single, clean crack—then ruin.

Ash. Bone dust. Shattered moon-ceramic.

My pup scattered across the tiles as if he had never been held, never been cherished, never existed.

The scream tore out of me. I collapsed, clawing at the floor, gathering what I could into shaking hands. My nails split. I didn’t feel it. I felt nothing but the hollow where he had been.

Behind me, Malven sighed—as if annoyed by dirt near his boots.

“Stop howling like someone killed you,” he said coldly. “You’re not the victim.”

My hands were black with ash. My breath stuttered. Tears blurred the world.

Then he said, casually, “I got word from the healer this morning. Elian is fine. Alive. Sitting up. Smiling. They even sent images.”

I froze.

Alive?

Impossible.

No. I was there. I held him when the runes went dark. When his chest stilled. When the healer covered him and I couldn’t move.

“You lied,” Malven said, stepping closer until his shadow swallowed me. “You staged his death. Drugged him. Built this farce because you wanted sympathy.”

I lifted my face, shattered. “H-he died… he died in my arms—”

“Enough,” he snapped. “Spare me.”

Rivelle glided to his side. “Maybe she did it to wound me,” she whispered, trembling with false terror. “Maybe she hated me so much she wanted me to feel her pain.” Her eyes flicked to the ashes. “Maybe she wanted me to imagine myself like that… broken. Scattered.”

She gasped, collapsed onto the couch dramatically, shaking like glass.

“Come, sweetheart,” she sobbed, pulling Ryke close. “Let’s go. Mommy can’t breathe around this filth. I don’t want you seeing such darkness.”

Ryke didn’t look afraid. Just obedient. A pup trained early.

Malven wrapped an arm around Rivelle, holding her close. “Don’t waste tears on her,” he murmured. “You’re the only one who matters. Let’s go upstairs. Leave her with her mess.”

I was still on the floor, sweeping my pup into my palms. Ash smeared the stone like a ghost begging to stay.

Then Ryke broke free.

He charged toward me.

His boots came down hard—right onto the ashes.

“Witch!” he screamed. “You made my mommy cry!”

He stomped again.

And my boy scattered even further—to the corners of the den, as if he had never been mine at all.

No.

Ryke kicked the shattered moon-urn so hard the fragments skidded across the stone floor, splintering against the wall. Runed ceramic burst like glass under a curse.

I couldn’t move. My breath locked in my chest. My body refused me.

Something ripped up my throat—too mangled to be a howl, too broken to be a cry.

Malven stepped into my space, his Alpha aura crushing. His hand clamped around my face, fingers digging into my jaw until bone screamed.

“Enough,” he snarled. “Enough of this disgrace.”

I stared at him. His face was carved from granite. No remorse. No mourning. Nothing.

“For a moment,” he said coldly, “I almost believed you. Almost pitied your little corpse.”

His thumb dragged along my jaw, scorching like brand-fire.

“But the Moonfang Healers sent proof. Crystal-recordings. Elian laughing. Sitting upright. The healer swore you exaggerated everything. Said you used the pup. Let him act worse just to harvest sympathy.”

A lie. Her lie.

My eyes slid past him—to the stairs.

Rivelle stood halfway up, fingers curled around the banister. Moonlight caught her gaze, and there it was—the faint smile at the corner of her lips. Quiet. Victorious.

She bought the visions. Paid the healer. Wove the story. And Malven swallowed it, as he always did.

They turned away. Rivelle rested her head on his shoulder, steps light, fragile.

“Come to bed, my Alpha,” she murmured. “I can’t breathe another moment near her.”

Ryke glanced back once, disgust flashing in his eyes—then lifted his chin and followed his mother like a trained cub.

Silence swallowed the den.

I stayed on the floor, palms torn and bleeding, gathering the last traces of my pup with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.

Hours passed—or maybe the moon simply forgot to move.

I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. I sat outside my chamber, knees drawn tight, dried blood crusted on my skin, salt still burning my tongue.

Past midnight, I heard coughing.

Then Malven’s voice—sharp, panicked.

“Rivelle. Look at me. Where does it hurt?”

I didn’t move.

Her cries thundered through the stone walls.

“I can’t breathe,” she gasped. “Malven—my chest, my womb—she cursed me. That urn! Ever since she brought death into this packhold, something’s choking me!”

Footsteps pounded. Malven swore.

“That witch.”

Rivelle’s voice dropped into a trembling whisper.

“I heard the servants… they said she bought poisonous herbs. Moon-bane meant for me. Maybe she hid it in the urn. Maybe she wanted me gone.” She sobbed softly. “I’m carrying your heir, Malven. I don’t want to die. Not me… not the pup.”

The door burst open.

Malven stormed toward me, fury thick as blood-mist.

He seized my wrist and hauled me up.

“You did this.”

My ankle twisted. Fire tore through my arm.

“You poisoned my den,” he roared. “You cursed her. You knew she carried my heir and still brought death under my roof.”

“I didn’t—”

He yanked me so hard my breath broke.

“She nearly died tonight! Is that what you want? Her dead?”

He dragged me into their chamber and shoved me forward.

“KNEEL.”

I stayed upright.

“I said kneel.”

“No.”

The slap cracked—stars exploding behind my eyes.

“On your knees.”

I stood.

He kicked the backs of my legs. Agony surged. I crashed down, skin splitting open again, blood staining the floorstones.

Rivelle reclined on the couch like a queen receiving tribute. Hair flawless. Belly rounded beneath silk. One hand pressed weakly to her chest—eyes sharp. Devouring.

“I don’t believe her,” she murmured. “She doesn’t sound remorseful. Make her louder, Malven. I want to hear her shatter.”

Malven loomed behind me, a shadow ready to crush.

“Apologize,” he hissed. “Until she forgives you.”

My lips shook. My voice broke.

“I’m sorry.”

Again.

“I’m sorry.”

Again—until my throat burned, until my voice split, until something inside me tore open and bled.

Rivelle rose slowly, clutching her belly, swaying.

“M-Malven… something’s wrong,” she whispered, terror perfectly rehearsed. “My womb… I think I’m bleeding—”

She collapsed neatly—straight into his arms.

He caught her instantly, clutching her as if she carried the last Alpha heir alive.

“Rivelle. My moon. Stay with me,” he choked, cradling her face. “Look at me. Don’t close your eyes. Breathe. Please—breathe.”

Her lashes fluttered like a saint struck down.

“Malven… I’m scared…”

He spun toward the hall and roared, his command shaking the den.

“GET THE CARRIAGE. NOW.”

I stayed kneeling.

Blood soaked through my trousers. My hands were slick and torn. My pup’s name burned like a brand inside my chest, refusing to fade.

Malven lifted Rivelle in his arms as if she were spun from moon-glass. She curled into him, whimpering, clutching her womb like her spirit was leaking out.

Before leaving, he turned back.

Those eyes—once warm, once sworn to me under a full moon—were blades now.

“Don’t move,” he said flatly. “You don’t even deserve breath.”

I didn’t respond.

“You don’t deserve a bed.”

The door slammed. Silence devoured the chamber.

I don’t know how long I remained there. My legs felt petrified. My skull rang. My throat burned raw.

Then—the door creaked.

Light footsteps padded closer.

I didn’t look up until his shadow crossed mine.

“Why are you sitting like that?” Ryke asked.

He dangled a small blue rune-car between his fingers, swinging it idly. His sleepwear was spotless. Hair neatly combed. Eyes bright—rested, satisfied.

He crouched beside me, elbow on his knee, studying me like a stain on stone.

“My mom’s really good at pretending, isn’t she, witch?” he whispered, grinning.

The word cut clean through me.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

He pushed the toy car across the floor. The wheels clicked softly.

“Alpha Father always believes her,” Ryke said. “Every time.”

Then he stood and walked away, humming—as if he hadn’t crushed my pup’s remains hours earlier.

I bowed my head. My voice barely existed.

Soon.

Soon this would end. The severance scrolls were already with the Moon Council advocate. I only had to wait.

Then I would be free.

Then they would understand what it meant to lose everything.

***

Malven returned before dawn. He tossed a vial at my feet. It rolled and stopped. Pain draught. Unmarked.

“Try not to curse anyone next time,” he muttered, not looking at me.

He grabbed his cloak, then paused at the doorway.

“My parents’ bond-anniversary is this weekend. You’re still my mate in name. People will expect you.” His voice hardened. “Bring Elian.”

I felt nothing. Not rage. Not grief.

“You heard me,” he said. “Bring him. Clean him. Smile. You know how this pack works.”

Then he left—back to Rivelle, back to the healer’s den.

***

The anniversary arrived.

Malven didn’t allow me beside him. He sent me to the front seat with the driver, like hired hands.

Behind us, Rivelle leaned into him like a crowned Luna. Ryke sat tucked under her arm.

She whispered something. Malven laughed softly, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

I looked down at my dress—black, coarse, ill-fitted. Everyone else wore enchanted silk and moon-gems. Rivelle wore white. Pearls cascading down her spine. Innocence crafted at great cost.

No one spoke to me before we arrived.

No one looked.

At the Moonclaw Estate, crystal-lenses flashed like lightning. Scribes and heralds crowded the gates. Malven stepped out first, adjusting his cuffs, the image of a devoted Alpha.

He opened Rivelle’s door himself.

She emerged as if the night belonged to her. Ryke followed, holding her hands.

I stepped out alone, gravel biting my soles.

“Speak only when spoken to,” Malven said quietly.

I nodded. And he didn’t look back.

The great hall gleamed with gold and dominance. Chandeliers hung like captured stars. Music flowed—soft, arrogant.

Malven raised his glass.

“Everyone,” he declared, “meet Rivelle Ashenfell. The she-wolf who will carry this bloodline forward.”

Applause thundered.

She dipped her head—humble and royal.

“And this,” he said, drawing Ryke forward, “is our future. The next Alpha heir.”

Malven’s parents embraced the boy as if he were a living crown.

I stood near the cloak racks. Unseen. Disposable.

Someone near the feast table whispered, “Who’s she?”

“Oh,” Malven’s mother said lightly, “just the former mate. She couldn’t even raise her own pup properly. Sickly thing she hid away. Moon knows what became of him.”

Rivelle pressed a hand to her chest.

“Elian is… still recovering,” she said softly. “Too weak to travel.” Then she turned to me, pity perfected. “Poor Viora… still mourning.”

She kissed Malven’s cheek.

My nails bit into my palms.

A servant stumbled. A silver serving tray crashed, echoing through the hall.

Laughter rose—Malven’s father loudest.

“We’re here to celebrate,” he boomed, then pointed at me. “Let her clean it. She’s used to that.”

Some guests laughed.

Rivelle stepped forward, voice sweet as venom.

“She used to host beautifully,” she said. “Perhaps she can help serve the moon-wine. Just until the staff recover.”

Malven said nothing. So I picked up the tray. I moved among the guests, offering crystal flutes. One servant met my eyes with quiet sympathy.

By the bar, someone whispered, “Is that the first mate? I heard she cursed the den.”

“With her dead pup’s ashes,” another replied. “Can you imagine?”

I kept walking. Calm. Steady.

They couldn’t take anything from me. I had already lost everything worth losing. Let them mock the ghost they thought I was. Soon, they would remember my name.

And when they did—they would learn it screaming.