Chapter 2

I woke to blinding white light and pain ripping through every nerve in my body.

A voice shouted somewhere far away.

"Massive internal bleeding! Get her to the healing chamber now!"

I was on a stretcher, racing down a corridor. Ceiling lights smeared into a single white line above me. The sharp scent of antiseptic and crushed herbs burned my lungs. Somewhere deep inside, my wolf whimpered—too weak even to rise.

"Stay with us, Luna." A gentle voice near my ear. Warm fingers brushed the frozen hair from my forehead. "We'll take care of you."

Then another voice, more urgent: "Someone check her vitals again—she's eight weeks pregnant."

Eight weeks.

My hand twitched toward my stomach, but I couldn’t feel my arms. Panic surged, thin and sharp. I’d curled around my belly in the snow, taken claws and teeth across my back to shield that tiny life.

Please. Please let the baby be okay.

"Blood pressure’s dropping!” someone shouted. “We need Alpha blood for the healing ritual—now!"

"The reserves are depleted,” another healer said, breath tight with panic. “Alpha Kain allocated the last six units to a private patient in the cosmetic wing."

Alpha Kain.

The name snagged in my fading consciousness. My husband. My mate. The father of the child fighting to live inside me.

The gentle-voiced healer—Chloe, her name tag said—pulled out her phone. Her hand shook.

"Beta Marcus, this is Healer Chloe from the pack clinic." Her voice cracked despite her effort to stay professional. "I need to reach Alpha Kain immediately. Luna Aira is in critical condition. Massive internal bleeding. She's eight weeks pregnant—we need Alpha blood for the healing ritual. Without it, we'll lose them both."

A pause. Muffled voices on the other end. Marcus relaying the message.

Then he came back on. His tone careful. Apologetic.

"The Alpha says the reserves are allocated for Miss Stone. She's having a procedure. He can't authorize a transfer."

Chloe stiffened. Her knuckles went white around the phone.

"Beta Marcus, please—tell him his Luna is dying. Tell him his pup won't survive without—"

I heard Marcus pull the phone away, his voice growing distant.

"Alpha, your Luna, she—"

"Victoria is my priority." Kain's voice cut through the speaker. Cold. Final. "The blood stays with her. And hang up—Victoria needs rest."

The line went dead.

Four words.

Victoria is my priority.

Colder than the blizzard he'd abandoned me in.

Chloe stared at the phone. Her hands trembled. When she looked at me, her eyes glistened with something I couldn't name.

Pity. Horror. Shame on behalf of her Alpha.

"I'm so sorry, Luna," she whispered. "I'll find another way. I'll—"

But I wasn't listening anymore.

I was feeling.

Deep in my belly, something flickered. Faint. Fragile. Fighting.

Then—weaker.

And weaker still.

My wolf keened—a sound I'd never heard her make. Raw. Broken. The sound of something being torn away at the root.

The flutter stopped.

The warmth vanished.

And then there was nothing. Just... silence. Where a heartbeat should have been.

Gone.

My child was gone.

I waited for the grief to hit. For the scream to tear from my throat. For the tears to come.

Nothing came.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, and felt... hollow. Like someone had reached inside me and scooped out everything that mattered.

Chloe was crying. Soft sobs somewhere to my left. She was mourning my child more than I could.

But I couldn't cry.

I had nothing left to cry with.

Kain Blackwood had taken everything from me. My dignity. My hope. My dreams of a family.

And now, my child.

For a scar.

For a scar on another woman's knee.

……

When I woke again, the searing agony had dulled to a distant ache.

Chloe sat beside my bed. Her eyes were red.

"The pup..." she started.

"I know."

She didn't say anything else. There was nothing else to say.

I reached for my bag on the nightstand. My fingers found the black leather ledger inside. I opened it to the last page.

The pen felt steady in my hand.

–1 point: He let our child die to spare her a scar.

Entry 100.

Final score: 0.

I stared at the number.

Zero.

One hundred entries. Three years of wounds. And now this—the last one. The one that emptied the account completely.

The child was gone.

And for the first time in three years, something settled inside me.

Not grief.

Not rage.

Stillness.

The kind that comes when you finally stop bleeding. When the wound goes so deep it burns itself clean.

I closed the ledger.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice surfaced. Bridget's voice, from a phone call three months ago.

"When you're ready to leave, I'll be here. San Francisco. I found this old warehouse—it could be something special. A sanctuary for wolves like us. Wolves who need healing. Just say the word, Aira."

I hadn't been ready then.

I was ready now.

I reached for my phone.

My fingers didn't shake.