Last Sacrament

Chapter Three

The air in the Alpha’s study was filled with the scent of charred parchment. Nora stood in the center of the room, her hands trembling as she looked at the silver basin on the floor. Inside were the ashes of the Ancestral Ledger—the sacred records of the Blackwood lineage.

Beside the basin lay a silver lighter. Her silver lighter, a gift from her father.

"I didn't do it, Kashton. I was in the kitchen. I didn't even know the study was open."

Kashton didn't look at her. He stood by the window, his back a wall of solid, unforgiving muscle. 

"The guards found you running from the wing, Nora. River saw you throw the lighter into the basin. Why? Because Maeve touched the book earlier? Because you wanted to erase the history you’ll never truly be a part of?"

"River is lying!" Nora’s voice cracked. "She’s been trying to push me out since the moment Maeve stepped foot on this soil. Please, look at me."

Kashton turned. His eyes weren't just cold; they were dead. "I have looked at you for five years, Nora. And all I see is a mistake that finally showed its teeth. You destroyed the records of my ancestors because you couldn't handle being a second choice. You’re not just a burden anymore. You're despicable.

He stepped toward her, his presence heavy and suffocating. "The Council is already in the Great Hall. They’re calling for your head for desecrating the lineage. I’m giving you a mercy you don't deserve."

"Mercy?" she whispered.

The Great Hall was a sea of bared teeth and low, rumbling growls. The entire Blood Moon Pack had gathered for what they thought was a feast, only to witness a trial.

Nora stood on the dais, the weight of a thousand hateful gazes pinning her in place. Kashton stood before her, his Alpha aura flared so bright it made her eyes sting.

"Nora of the White Forest," Kashton’s voice boomed, echoing off the high rafters. "You have been found wanting. You have betrayed the sanctity of this pack. You have proven that you are no Luna."

He reached out, his fingers brushing the mark on her neck. For a split second, Nora hoped for a touch of tenderness. Instead, he gripped her throat, not enough to choke her, but enough to assert total dominance.

"I, Kashton Blackwood, Alpha of the Blood Moon, find you unworthy. I reject you as my mate. I reject you as my Luna. I cast you out from the protection of my name."

The bond snapped.

It felt like a lightning strike to her heart. Nora gasped, her knees hitting the stone floor with a sickening thud. The graying of the soul, the sudden, hollow emptiness where his presence used to live—it was a pain no human could describe.

"Sign," he commanded, throwing the divorce papers onto the floor in front of her.

Nora looked up at him through a veil of tears. Maeve was standing just behind him, her hand resting on the hilt of Kashton’s ceremonial dagger. She looked triumphant.

Nora’s hand shook as she took the pen. She wanted to scream that she was carrying his child. She wanted to tell him that she had been sick for weeks, that their blood was already mingling in a new life.

But as she looked at him, she saw the way he looked at Maeve—with a protective, burning devotion. If she told him now, he wouldn't love her. He would simply take the child and kill the mother. He would see her pregnancy as one final, desperate lie.

She signed her name. The ink looked like blood on the white page.

"Get her out of my sight," Kashton said, his voice devoid of a single shred of humanity.

The guards threw her into the mud outside the kitchen entrance, tossing her single duffel bag after her. The rain was starting to fall, a cold, biting drizzle that soaked through her thin dress.

"Nora? Wait."

Nora looked up. Maeve was standing in the doorway, a silk shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked like an angel, but when she stepped into the shadows where the guards couldn't see, her face contorted into something hideous.

"You look pathetic," Maeve said, her voice a sharp contrast to the honeyed tone she used with Kashton. "Truly. I almost feel sorry for you. Clinging to a man who literally gagged when he had to touch you."

"You got what you wanted, Maeve," Nora said, picking herself up from the mud. "Just let me leave."

"Oh, I'm not done," Maeve laughed softly. She stepped closer, her scent of wildflowers now smelling like rot to Nora’s heightened senses. "You think you’re the only one with a secret? Why do you think Kash was so quick to believe River’s little fire-show?"

Nora froze.

"Because I told him I’m pregnant, Nora." Maeve leaned in, her eyes dancing with malice. "I told him the night I arrived. I told him I’ve been carrying his heir since before I 'died.' It’s a lie, of course. I’m not pregnant—not yet. But he’s so desperate for a legacy that he’d believe anything I say."

Nora’s stomach lurched. The nausea she’d been fighting all evening roared back to life. "He’ll find out. He’s an Alpha, he’ll know when you don't show."

"By the time he realizes, I’ll have conceived for real. But you? You’re an exile. A rogue." Maeve’s eyes dropped to Nora’s midsection, her smile widening into something predatory. "I know you’re actually carrying, Nora. I can smell the change in you. And that’s why you’re never going to tell him."

"If I tell him—"

"If you tell him," Maeve interrupted, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "I will tell him you slept with a rogue while he was at the summit last month. I’ve already planted the evidence in your old room. Letters, photos. I’ll make sure he thinks those pups are bastards. He won't just reject them, Nora. He’ll hunt them down to cleanse the bloodline."

Nora stepped back, horror dawning on her. "He wouldn't kill his own children."

"He doesn't think they're his. And in this pack, a bastard heir is a death sentence." Maeve stepped back into the light of the doorway, smoothing her hair. "Run, Nora. Run while you still have legs to carry you. Because if I see you near this border again, I’ll tell Kashton you came back to kill our 'miracle baby.' And he will tear your throat out himself."

Maeve shut the door. 

Nora stood in the rain, her hand resting over her womb. She didn't cry. The time for tears was over. She looked at the dark, dense forest of the neutral zone.

She had no pack. No mate. No home.

But she had a reason to survive.

She turned and began to walk, each step a vow of vengeance. She wouldn't tell him. She would never tell him. She would raise these children in the shadows, and one day, she would return to watch the Blood Moon burn.

As she reached the tree line, a low, guttural howl echoed from the neutral territory—not a warning, but a greeting.

Nora stopped, her breath hitching. She wasn't alone in the dark.