Evelyn stood at the far edge of the balcony, wrapped in white fur and secrets, her gaze fixed on the scene below. The torchlight shimmered off the snow-dusted stones of the courtyard where Kael and Aria stood — two figures caught in some wordless pull, as if the air between them knew something even they couldn’t admit aloud.
Aria looked strong.
Too strong.
And that alone made Evelyn’s pulse thrum with venom.
She gripped the balustrade, not out of cold — but fury. Fury masked by poise, painted lips, and practiced grace.
This was supposed to be her story.
The first time she returned, the council fell over themselves to welcome her. Her body may have carried scars from the prison of the north, but her beauty hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it had grown sharper — like a blade honed by survival.
They called her “miraculous.”
Kael called her “fate.”
And Evelyn believed him. Believed his eyes when they softened at the sight of her. Believed his promise that what they’d lost could be remade.
But what he didn’t say — what he couldn’t admit — was that Aria Vale still lingered behind every glance, every pause, every unfinished sentence.
And now, Evelyn saw it for herself.
The way Kael’s gaze found Aria even when he wasn’t looking.
The way the pack instinctively shifted toward her.
The way Aria moved like she had already won.
That wasn’t survival.
That was power.
And Evelyn?
She’d been outplayed.
A soft knock on the door behind her didn’t startle her. She knew who it would be before the handle turned.
Lucian Horvath entered like a shadow with a smirk, elegant as always. His dark coat brushed the floor, his gloved hands tucked behind his back like a man watching a play unfold.
“Enjoying the show?” he murmured.
Evelyn didn’t turn. “I see no entertainment in betrayal.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. No one’s betrayed you yet.”
“I was promised a bond. A title. A future.”
“You were promised a man,” Lucian said dryly. “They’re terribly unreliable.”
She turned then, slow and sharp. “You think this is funny?”
“I think you’re cornered,” he replied. “And cornered women are dangerous. That’s always been my favorite kind.”
Evelyn moved closer, the hem of her gown whispering over the stone. “She’s pregnant, Lucian. And she’s still here.”
“You expected her to vanish?”
“I expected her to break.”
Lucian’s eyes glittered in the torchlight. “She did. And then she reforged herself.”
Evelyn’s silence was thunderous.
Because it was true.
She had watched Aria’s unraveling from afar. She had expected grief, shame, perhaps even exile.
Instead… Aria challenged a dominant in the dueling circle while carrying Kael’s child — and won.
The pack called her Luna Reborn now. And they said it without irony.
What did Evelyn have left?
A surname.
A backstory.
And a man whose guilt ran deeper than his love.
“I could tell them,” Evelyn whispered, voice low with threat. “Tell the pack what Kael did. What he planned. What he sacrificed when he chose me.”
Lucian smiled faintly. “And remind them you were never chosen for the right reasons? That you were a shadow Kael mistook for the past? Go ahead. I’ll bring the wine.”
She turned from him, disgust curling in her throat. Not at him — but at herself.
For needing him now.
For knowing he was right.
“What do you want from me, Lucian?” she asked.
He stepped beside her, his tone thoughtful. “I want what you want. A pack free from chaos. A leadership that doesn’t crumble with every heartbreak. And maybe,” he added with a cruel little smile, “a touch of revenge.”
Evelyn said nothing.
Because that last word pulsed like a heartbeat.
Down below, Kael reached out — not touching, not daring — but almost.
And Aria… flinched.
Not from fear.
But from memory.
Evelyn saw it in her eyes.
And worse, she saw the child stir beneath Aria’s hand — an instinctual gesture, protective and sacred.
Heir.
Threat.
Symbol.
Evelyn’s heart clenched.
Not at the child’s existence.
But at what the child represented.
A legacy she would never have.
A tie she would never form.
A pack that would never call her Luna again.
“Then let’s remove her,” she said.
Lucian raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”
“I won’t be erased,” Evelyn hissed. “Not by a girl with a womb and a lucky punch.”
“Then we’ll do it the old way,” Lucian replied, voice suddenly colder. “Secrets. Leverage. Timing. And when it’s time to draw blood… we won’t need to lift a blade.”
Evelyn gave him a sidelong glance. “What do you mean?”
Lucian’s smile widened. “Everyone has a weakness. Even Aria Vale.”
Far below, Zara appeared beside Aria, placing a hand on her shoulder. The two women exchanged a look — not one of suspicion, but of shared purpose.
And Evelyn’s jaw set. Because now she wasn’t just fighting a mother.
She was fighting a Luna with allies.
A Luna with roots.
“I want everything,” Evelyn said.
“Then give me permission,” Lucian replied, bowing slightly. “And I’ll set the pieces in motion.”
Evelyn looked to the moon. Cold. Distant. Unforgiving.
“Do it.”
Inside her womb, nothing stirred.
No life.
No bond.
No future.
And that silence echoed louder than any scream.
