Selene's POV.

In the night I was almost killed. I was seven months pregnant with a child prophesied to save the entire kingdom.

We were ambushed on our way back to the packhouse. At first, I thought it was rogues, or one of the lesser clans challenging my husband’s authority.

But when I saw how many of them there were… how they only came for me… I knew.

They weren’t after revenge or land.

They were after my child.

The child in my womb—the one the Moon Seers called The Chosen Alpha. The one who would unite the kingdom and end the bloodshed that plagued the werewolf clans for generations. The future alpha of alphas.

And that future had painted a target on my back.

My guards fought bravely, forming a shield around me, but they were quickly overrun. I tried to defend myself, but I was too slow, too heavy. I could barely shift without tearing something.

Still, I fought until my hands were slick with blood.

I thought I was going to die.

Then I saw him—my husband.

He tore through the attackers like a beast unleashed. I screamed his name as the world started to dim around me, and just before I blacked out, I thought: We’re safe. Me and the baby… we’re safe.

That was the last lie I let myself believe.

---

The first thing I heard when I stirred was the soft, rhythmic beep of hospital monitors.

Then… voices.

I didn’t open my eyes.

I don’t know if it was instinct or fate, but something told me to listen.

And what they were saying made my blood run cold.

“…Are you really going through with it?” a voice said—familiar, tense. Thorne. My husband’s best friend. “You’re still planning to kill your own child and pass off Eliah’s baby as the Chosen One? No one would believe that lies.”

I froze.

My fingers twitched under the sheets. My throat went dry.

That can’t be right. No. I must be hallucinating. Still drugged. Still unconscious.

But then I heard the one voice I used to trust more than my own—

“That’s why I asked if I could kill them both,” my husband said, calm as ever. “No one would know the difference. When Eliah gives birth, we’ll say it’s Selene’s. The seers won’t question it. The kingdom will follow whoever we present.”

My stomach turned.

“That's your child too, in Selene’s womb!” Thorne hissed. “You think she won’t find out? You think she won’t feel it? The bond is real, Damon.”

Damon laughed, low and cruel. “The bond means nothing. I made sure the doctor pumped her with enough wolfsbane to numb anything. And besides… I promised Eliah. She gave me a second chance.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t scream.

So I just listened.

“You said Eliah lost the baby—how are you even pulling this off?” Thorne asked, his voice quieter now.

“She didn’t. I lied to Selene. Eliah’s pregnancy was hidden for months. When she gives birth, we’ll say Selene delivered early. We switch the babies. The kingdom won’t question anything.”

There was a pause.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Then Thorne spoke again, his voice low and trembling with disbelief. “Y-You’re not the man I grew up with. You’re not the friend I once knew. Wake up, bro! Are you even hearing yourself right now?” His voice broke slightly. “I get it. I get that you and Selene were arranged. I know there was no love between you two. But this? This is sick. This is... insane.”

Damon’s laugh was dry and hollow. “Don’t get sentimental on me now.”

“I’m serious,” Thorne snapped. “She’s your wife. She carried your child. And this is your plan? Murder them in cold blood and replace the prophesied heir with some child from your ex?”

“Eliah is not just some ex. She’s my true bond. The only woman I ever loved,” Damon said coldly. “And her son—my son—is worth ten of Selene’s. He’s strong, pureblood, and doesn’t come from a cursed bloodline.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in my eyes.

My baby was his child too. And he spoke about us like we were vermin. Disposables.

“I always knew you were ambitious,” Thorne whispered. “But this… You’ve completely lost your mind.”

Damon’s boots scraped against the floor. I imagined him stepping closer. His voice dropped to a dark, deadly murmur.

“So what now, Thorne? Are you going to grow a conscience and stop me?”

Another pause.

“You know what happens to people who stand in my way.”

“Don’t threaten me—”

“No,” Damon cut him off, his voice sharp as a blade. “This isn’t a threat. It’s a promise. If you try to stop me, if you even think of getting in my way, I’ll gut you and hang your wife from the gates. Your daughter? I’ll make sure she watches.”

I stopped breathing.

My heart felt like it had been impaled.

The man I married. The one who once touched my swollen belly and murmured, We’ll be good parents someday—was gone.

A monster wore his face now.

Damon exhaled slowly. “Tomorrow, during the surgery, we make it look like an accident. Cardiac arrest. Hemorrhage. I don’t care. Just make sure neither Selene nor that unborn brat makes it out alive.”

My hands clenched into fists under the sheets. I felt my nails break the skin of my palms, but I didn’t care.

“And once they’re gone…” His tone shifted again—colder, calmer. “…my son, Lucas, will be presented to the kingdom as the Chosen One. The rightful heir. The savior they’ve all been praying for.”

“You’re going to rewrite prophecy with lies?” Thorne asked bitterly.

Damon scoffed. “Prophecy is only as strong as the story we tell. People don’t want truth. They want a savior. I’ll give them one.”

“And if the Moon Seers—?”

“I’ll buy them. Kill them. Make them disappear. Whatever it takes.”

Thorne didn’t respond.

But I could hear his breath—shaky, uneven.

He didn’t agree.

But he was too afraid to say no.

They turned and began walking toward the door, their voices fading into the hallway.

Just before it clicked shut behind them, I heard Damon mutter coldly, “Make sure the doctor knows—one incision. Two deaths. No mistakes.”

Then silence.

I lay there frozen, a scream buried in my throat, every nerve in my body on fire. My baby kicked weakly beneath my ribs, like they were still fighting to live.

They’re going to kill us tomorrow.

I stared up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, every breath more painful than the last.

Move… I begged myself. Please, just move.

But my limbs were numb. My fingers trembled as I tried to lift them. My voice refused to rise. It felt like I was trapped inside my own body, screaming at it from the inside.

Not like this… I can't die like this.

Tears streamed down my face as I turned my head slowly—agonizingly—toward the bedside drawer. I remembered the pen they used for consent forms. Maybe it was still there.

I forced my arm to move. Every inch felt like I was dragging bone through fire. My fingers curled weakly, barely grazing the handle. I pulled.

The drawer slid open.

There it was.

A black pen.

I gripped it with all the strength I had left, my hand trembling violently as I reached for a crumpled sheet of paper near the clipboard.

My vision blurred. I could hardly breathe. But I wrote one name in shaky, uneven letters.

Then, below it, just three desperate words:

“Help me. Hurry.”

I dropped the pen, my hand falling limp against the bed.

But I wasn’t done.

With the last flicker of strength, I reached my necklace where I had hidden something, an enchanted silver feather, given to me by someone long ago. Only to be used in dire moments.

I pressed the note against it, whispering his name through cracked lips.

The feather glowed faintly, shimmered and then vanished, taking the letter with it.

Carried by the penguin.

A creature no one could see. No one could stop.

It would find him.

It had to.

And just before the darkness closed in again, I prayed to the Moon Goddess that he would read my words—

Before it was too late.

Selene's POV.

The world was a blur of white walls, slow beeping, and suffocating stillness when I woke up.

A soft groan escaped my lips as I turned my head. My limbs felt like lead, my skin burning cold. But I wasn’t alone.

Damon was there.

Sitting beside me, his face buried in his hands. When he looked up, I flinched.

Because the way he smiled… it wasn’t the monster I heard last night. It was the man I once trusted, the one who used to whisper sweet nothings against my stomach and promise forever.

"You're awake," he said gently, reaching for my hand. "How are you feeling, love?"

I didn’t answer right away. My voice was lodged in my throat.

Because… was it a dream?

His fingers curled around mine with practiced warmth, and for a second, I doubted everything. Maybe I had hallucinated the whole thing. The doctor did say I’d been poisoned. Maybe it was all in my head.

Still…

His touch chilled me to my core.

"You need surgery, Selene," Damon said softly, brushing my hair back like he cared. "There’s a complication. If we don’t act fast, either you or the baby could die. I… I can’t lose you both."

His voice cracked like a man in agony. It was almost convincing.

I stared at him, trembling.

“I… I don’t want surgery,” I croaked. “Not by a doctor. I want to be healed by an elf instead. Their magic—” My voice faltered. “Their magic will protect the baby. It’s the only way I’ll feel safe.”

Damon’s brows furrowed, lips pulling into a regretful frown. “Selene… elves live far away. We don’t have time. You’re already weak. Waiting could make things worse.”

Just then, the door opened—and my brother rushed in.

“Sant—” My voice broke as I reached for him.

Santino dropped to his knees beside the bed and wrapped his arms around me. His scent—home, safety, warmth—flooded my senses. I finally let myself cry.

After a moment, I pulled away and whispered, “I want a healer, not a doctor. Please. I need to be sure the baby survives this.”

Damon opened his mouth, but Santino nodded before he could speak. “Then I’ll summon one,” he said firmly. “I’ll contact Mr. Elm.”

“You won’t be able to,” Damon said calmly. “He won’t trust an unfamiliar messenger. Santino, you have ties with their people. You’re the only one who can convince them. And time is running out.”

Santino hesitated, then sighed. “He’s right.” He cupped my cheek. “I’ll go myself. I’ll bring Mr. Elm back. Three days—no more. I’ll teleport back the second he agrees.”

I clutched his shirt, voice barely a whisper. “Take me with you.”

Santino glanced at Damon, then shook his head. “It’s too dangerous in your condition.”

“No,” Damon said firmly, stepping forward. “This time, I won’t let you go. You need rest, Selene. I won’t risk losing you or the baby.”

As Santino turned to leave, I felt my chest tighten. A cold dread crawled up my spine.

Something told me this would be the last time I’d see my brother.

Santino paused at the door and turned to me one last time—smiling, hopeful, strong.

“I’ll come back,” he promised. “I swear it.”

Then he was gone.

Later that evening, I stirred again.

I wasn’t alone.

A shadow loomed over me—and it wasn’t Damon.

Dalia.

Damon’s cousin. A woman who always looked at me with scorn and jealousy. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she approached the bed.

“Look at you now,” she sneered. “The almighty Selene, looking like a beggar on her deathbed. So pathetic.”

Before I could respond, her hand shot out—and she slapped me hard across the face.

Pain exploded in my skull. My body was too weak to react.

Dalia’s gaze dropped to my neck. “Ooh, what’s this?” She yanked at my necklace, snapping it off with a sharp jerk. I gasped as pain seared across my throat.

The enchanted necklace… the one with the feather—

It was gone.

No. No. No.

My blood ran cold.

The feather was missing, which meant…

It wasn’t a hallucination.

It was real.

All of it.

Dalia twirled the broken chain around her finger with a smirk. “You’re not going to need this anymore. Damon’s bringing back Eliah. You? You’re just a memory.”

She leaned closer, her breath hot and cruel against my ear. “You should be honored. You’ll die for a great cause.”

She pulled a syringe from her coat.

“This’ll help you rest peacefully,” she mocked. “Forever.”

I struggled, weak and shaking, but she jammed the needle into my arm. I screamed—silently. No one came.

Three hours passed.

Then another shot.

Then another.

The drugs were slowly killing me.

I could feel it in my bones. My body was shutting down. My breath grew shallow. My tears stained the pillow silently.

When I felt a presence beside me again, I thought maybe it was Santino.

But it was Damon.

He brushed my hair back tenderly. I turned my head away.

Then, without warning, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked it back.

“So,” he whispered darkly, “you did hear me last night.”

My heart stopped.

I froze.

How… how did he know?

His eyes gleamed, cold and wicked. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice that little feather of yours glowing before it vanished? I was just in the door, Selene.”

He leaned closer, voice sharp as a knife.

“You sent for help.”

He smiled.

“Too bad it’ll come too late.”

Selene's POV.

Damon's gaze was cold—almost amused—as he stepped closer to my bed. His eyes gleamed with something vile, something I had never seen before… not even in our worst moments.

“Who did you send for help?”

His voice sliced through the silence like a blade. I blinked, disoriented, his shadow looming too close—his tone too calm, too rehearsed. The warmth that once lived in his eyes was gone, replaced by nothing but sharp, calculated suspicion.

“Was it Santino?” he pressed. “No… doesn’t seem like it. You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you… my dear wife?”

I tried to sit up, but my arms trembled violently. My body refused to cooperate—drained, sluggish. The poison was working faster than I’d thought. Or maybe it was the constant syringes that witch, Dalia, kept stabbing at me.

“You demon…” I managed to rasp, my throat raw and trembling. “I trusted you… I loved you. Why are you doing this? What about our baby—?”

“Our baby?” Damon laughed. Not kindly—no, it was a low, condescending chuckle that chilled me to the bone. “Selene, don’t delude yourself.”

He moved closer, crouching beside me. I turned my face away, but his fingers gently tucked a stray hair behind my ear. The tender motion made bile rise in my throat.

“I am thankful, truly,” he whispered, like he was offering some sort of mercy. “You served your purpose. But the child Eliah carries… that is my legacy. That child will rule—not the cursed spawn of the Arkwell bloodline.”

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks. My heart shattered with every word.

Damon leaned in closer, his breath warm on my ear. “So please… just be good. Don’t struggle. And I’ll grant you and your child a peaceful death.”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t breathe.

Then he stood, brushed imaginary dust from his robe, and walked away without looking back.

The moment the door clicked shut, I broke.

My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms until I felt blood drip from the cuts. Rage boiled inside me—hot, unbearable, suffocating. How could I have been so blind?

He was going to let me die slowly, day by day, hidden behind false tenderness and poison.

I couldn’t let that happen. Not when Santino was out there trying to bring help. Not when I still had a chance to survive—for my baby.

I threw the covers aside and tried to move. Sitting up was torture; every inch of my body felt like it had been crushed under a mountain. But I clenched my teeth and gripped the rails, dragging myself to sit.

“Come on,” I whispered to myself, “you can do this…”

I managed to swing my legs off the bed, but the moment my feet touched the floor, my knees buckled.

I collapsed.

The cold tile bit into my skin, but I barely felt it. I sobbed—not from the pain, but from the sheer helplessness clawing at me. Curled on the floor, arms wrapped protectively around my belly, I just cried.

I used to be strong. I used to fight.

I had to remember who I was.

Get up, I begged myself. Move. Survive.

I lay there for what felt like an eternity, the chill seeping into my bones, before I finally dragged myself toward the wall—one inch at a time.

Please, I prayed silently. Let that person receive my letter. Let them come. Let someone come.

And then, through the fog of pain, my mind drifted to the beginning—how all of this had started.

Damon and I had once been classmates—barely friends. He was cold, broken after Eliah left him. I was the quiet outcast from the cursed Arkwell clan, ridiculed by everyone except the Moon Seer who foretold a future none of us understood.

A son born from me and Damon will lead the kingdom.

And so, Damon’s parents had arranged our marriage.

I was never wanted—only needed.

Even then, life in the Moonvil household was truly brutal. Whispers of my cursed blood haunted me. Every look, every comment, every silence was a knife.

Damon had been cold too, at first. Still bitter from Eliah leaving him.

But I stayed. I loved him. I believed we could build something real.

I was a fool.

A bigger fool for believing he ever loved me back.

My body ached. My belly throbbed, the baby barely moving now. Still alive… still fighting.

I gritted my teeth, one hand clutching my belly protectively. “I’ll get us out of here,” I whispered to the child inside me. “Even if it kills me.”

I clenched my fists, crawling toward the nightstand, trying to reach anything—anything—that could help me escape.

The door opened again.

I froze, trembling, praying it wasn’t Dalia with another syringe.

It wasn’t.

She stepped inside slowly, her heels clicking across the floor.

A woman with striking beauty and venomous eyes.

“Eliah,” I whispered.

She smiled with twisted grace.

“It’s been a while…” she said, her voice silken and cruel.

Then she tilted her head.

“…Sister.”

My blood turned to ice.

Eliah. Beautiful, graceful, deadly. She wore a silk robe, her long dark hair perfectly styled, her amber eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Damon’s been keeping you in such poor condition,” she said with a soft laugh. “You look like hell.”

I wanted to crawl away, but I couldn’t move.

Eliah crouched beside me, tilting my chin up with her manicured nails. “You were always the moon’s favorite. The prophecy. The kingdom. Damon. That damn place. But all of that ends now.”

She stood and pulled something from her pocket.

My heart stopped.

It was a necklace. Mine.

The one with the enchanted feather.

The one I used to send a message.

“No…” I breathed.

Eliah smiled as she twirled the charm between her fingers. “You thought you were clever. Sending out secret messages...”

My stomach churned. If she had it… then it hadn’t reached—

But then something strange happened.

A wind stirred in the room. The feather shimmered. Eliah looked down in confusion, her fingers trying to tighten around it.

Too late.

The charm glowed, turned into a stream of silver light, and vanished through the open window.

“No,” she gasped.

I smiled.

Tiny. Defiant.

“You didn’t catch it in time,” I whispered. “It’s gone.”

Eliah spun to me, her expression darkening, but I didn’t care.

The message was delivered.

The world would know the truth.

And maybe—just maybe—we still had hope.