Chapter Two: My Regrets

CIARA

Eve's delicate features tensed at Damien’s words, her small fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline, as if she could make herself disappear into him. She hesitated, wide, trembling eyes flickering between hope and terror, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly.

The bitterness inside me wasn’t just a feeling—it was a monster, alive and ravenous, clawing at my ribs, scraping my bones raw. Half a year ago, Eve had returned, all sad smiles and tearful apologies after years of being gone. And Damien—my mate, my husband—barely spared me a glance before moving her into our home, as if my very existence was nothing but a shadow, an inconvenience.

At first, I told myself it was fine. That I could survive it. I accepted her. I pitied her. I welcomed her into my home with trembling hands, cooked meals she barely touched, made sure she had everything she needed. I convinced myself that being the perfect Luna, the perfect wife, would keep me safe.

I was a fool.

Until that night.

I remembered it vividly—the way Eve picked up the crystal glass of wine, her fingers trembling dramatically before she poured it down her own front and crumpled onto the ground, sobbing and shaking like a fragile bird whose wings had been shattered. Her cries were thin, broken things that twisted through the halls like a dagger.

To any passing wolf, it would have looked like I had been torturing her for days.

And Damien... oh, Damien. His gaze morphed right in front of me, turning from cold neglect to searing hatred. Fury crackled in his eyes like a storm ready to tear through everything in its path. He didn’t wait for explanations. He didn’t want them. In one swift, violent motion, he had me dragged to the attic, slammed the door shut, and locked it like I was no more than an animal that had bitten the hand that fed it.

Three days.

For three endless, soul-wrenching days, I endured the cold that bit into my skin, the gnawing hunger, the suffocating dark that whispered all the ugly things I had tried so hard to ignore. I curled in on myself, shivering, my swollen belly aching with every hour that passed.

And when Damien finally came... he didn’t come with mercy.

His voice was a blade, cutting straight through the remnants of my pride.

"Ciara, you disgust me. Do you even understand what Eve means to me? Lay a hand on her again, and mate or not, I will make you regret it."

Those words didn’t just break my heart.

They shattered it beyond repair.

And it never stopped.

The setups.

The lies.

The pitying glances from everyone I once called my family.

Eve was always the victim—the fragile flower wilting under my monstrous cruelty.

And I? I was nothing more than a villain in their story.

I planned to endure it.

To survive.

At least until my pup was born.

Then I would leave—slip away into the night with my child and never look back.

But fate has never been kind to me.

Before I could escape, Eve climbed to the rooftop.

She jumped.

Or so they said.

Because of hateful messages.

Voice recordings.

All carefully crafted evidence, painting me as the architect of her despair.

But none of it was mine.

Not that it mattered.

Damien didn’t care.

All he saw was Eve—broken, betrayed, and gone.

And with my due date looming close, his only concern was avenging her. Avenging his precious Eve.

The Beta shifted uncomfortably at the door, his scent sour with unease. "Alpha..." he rasped, voice cracking, "The Luna—something’s wrong. You should see for yourself."

Damien didn’t even look up at first. His grip on the pen tightened until the wood cracked in his hand, irritation flashing across his face like a whip. "Still throwing a tantrum?" he sneered.

The Beta swallowed hard, trembling. "No, Alpha. She... she’s not breathing."

For the first time, Damien froze.

The room sank into a suffocating silence. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

Then, a cold, mirthless laugh rumbled from his chest, sharp and ugly.

"She thinks playing dead will get her out of this?" he muttered, voice dripping with disdain. "Tell her—even in death, she will bow to Eve."

The Beta’s throat bobbed, sweat beading on his forehead as he backed away, unwilling to argue but unable to hide the terror that clung to him like a second skin.

In Damien’s lap, Eve shifted, her expression softening into something tender and concerned. False. So terribly false.

"Damien," she whispered, voice trembling just right, "maybe... maybe we should let it go. Ciara is still your mate. I don’t want to cause more trouble between you two."

Damien’s hand tightened around her waist like a vice. "Eve, you are my priority," he growled. "She is nothing." His voice dropped, darker, crueler. "This time, I’ll make sure she understands that."

"But—"

"No buts," he said, a rare softness returning to his voice for her and her alone. "Trust me."

A single tear slid down my cheek.

Even the soul of the dead could cry.

Damien barely lasted an hour before frustration cracked his icy façade. He slammed his laptop shut, stood abruptly, and ran a hand through his hair with a savage curse before leaning down to kiss Eve’s forehead.

"I don’t know what game she’s playing," he muttered. "But I’ll put an end to it."

The forest was cold.

The kind of cold that slipped beneath your skin and burrowed deep into your bones.

The world around him was unnervingly silent, the only sounds the occasional chirps of hidden crickets, the rustle of dead leaves whispering secrets Damien didn’t care to hear.

His strides were long and impatient, his presence crackling with suppressed rage. His sharp gaze zeroed in on the abandoned drop tower ride ahead, scanning for any hint of rebellion, any sign of defiance.

And then he saw it.

The metal structure loomed like a corpse, gleaming under the weak sunlight.

Still.

Silent.

But the ground at its base...

It was soaked.

Blood.

Dark. Thick. Fresh.

A chilling gust swept through the clearing, and along with the metallic scent of blood came something else.

Something ancient.

Something primal.

Something wrong.

Not just blood.

Power.

Raw, savage power so potent that the air itself seemed to recoil from it.

Then the sound came.

A growl—low, lethal, not belonging to any wolf Damien had ever known.

The earth seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

The shadows shifted, coiling and twisting like living things.

And for the first time in his life, Damien—Alpha of the strongest pack in the region—felt a cold hand wrap around his heart and squeeze.

Because whatever was waiting for him at the base of that ride...

It was not Ciara.

Not anymore.

The growl deepened, vibrating through the ground, through his bones, carrying with it a sound that froze the blood in his veins.

A snarl, otherworldly and enraged, thundered through the trees.

The wolves Damien had brought with him—loyal enforcers, merciless hunters—whimpered like beaten pups, their tails tucking between their legs as they slunk backward into the shadows.

Damien turned sharply, trying to pinpoint the source, his instincts screaming danger.

"Who’s there?" he barked, his voice steady, but I smelled it now—bitter and sharp.

Fear.

From the depths of the forest, two silver eyes gleamed, burning like twin moons against the darkness.

A colossal figure stepped forward, its form cloaked in shadow, the air around it alive with electric rage.

And when it spoke, the very ground seemed to flinch.

"You took what was mine, Damien."

"Now... I'll take everything from you."

It turned its head slowly, those merciless silver eyes locking onto Eve.

The creature raised a clawed hand and pointed.

"You..." it snarled, the word thick with a promise of ruin.

And then—it vanished.

Like smoke on the wind.

But the world would hear this.

Oh, they would hear everything.

And when they did, they would finally understand:

This was just the beginning.