Chapter 1

A sickly blend of lavender and death clung to the room.

Evelyn sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed, clutching Sophia’s fragile hand between both of hers. The child’s skin was cold, colder than it should be even in winter but Evelyn refused to believe the end had come. Not yet. Not while she still breathed.

Sophia was dying, and the world refused to stop spinning.

Outside, wind rustled the trees, and rain whispered against the windows. Inside, time stood still. The candles around the bed flickered low, their flames dimming as if in mourning.

“Mama,” Sophia rasped, barely audible.

“I’m here,” Evelyn whispered, bringing the little hand to her lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sophia’s once-vibrant golden eyes, so like her father’s, flickered open. “Is Daddy coming I want to see the pretty lights… just once?”

Evelyn’s breath hitched. A lie pressed against her tongue like broken glass. She swallowed it down.

“He’s on his way,” she whispered instead. “He promised.”

Sophia gave a weak smile. “Okay… I just wanted to say goodbye as well.”

“No.” Evelyn’s voice broke. “Don’t say goodbye. You’re going to get better. The healers said—”

“They said I’m too tired,” Sophia whispered. “It’s okay, Mama. I’m not scared–not with you and Daddy by my side.”

Tears spilled over Evelyn’s cheeks before she could stop them. She leaned down and wrapped her arms around her daughter’s fragile body, careful not to press too tightly against the bones that had become too sharp under her skin, threatening to rip through her frail skin.

“You’re so brave,” she whispered. “So good. The Moon Goddess will welcome you with open arms.”

Sophia exhaled softly, as if already halfway gone.

Evelyn didn’t know how long she stayed there, curled beside her child, whispering lullabies and promises she knew she couldn’t keep. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime stretched too thin, unraveling thread by thread.

She remembered the day Sophia was born—early, small, sickly, but beautiful. Evelyn had held her to her chest and cried, overcome with joy and fear. Adrian had stood at the foot of the bed, pride in his eyes as he called her our little warrior.

That was before.

Before he found her.

Nina.

Before he started leaving in the middle of the night. Before his scent came home mixed with perfume that didn’t belong to Evelyn.

They had chosen each other before the Moon Goddess ever gave them fated mates. They were young and in love. Reckless. Mated by choice, bonded by ceremony but not by destiny.

She should’ve known.

The bond wasn’t as strong as a true mating, but strong enough that Evelyn felt it every time he was with the other woman. It came like poison in her blood. A burn behind her ribs. She’d begged him to stop. To stay.

He said he would. He promised.

“Just for Sophia. I’ll stay for her.”

But he wasn’t here.

And Sophia… was slipping away.

“Mama?”

Evelyn’s eyes flew open. She didn’t realize she’d dozed off—minutes, maybe. Sophia’s voice was thinner now, barely there.

“Yes, baby?”

Sophia’s hand twitched inside hers. “If I go… will Daddy miss me?”

Her heart shattered. Shards of it sliced through her chest like knives.

“Yes,” Evelyn said, though it felt like a betrayal to say it. “He’ll miss you every single day. We both will.”

Sophia’s lips curled, soft and dreamy. “Tell him… I will always still love him. Even if he doesn’t come.”

Something broke inside her.

“I will,” Evelyn whispered, choking on her own voice. “I’ll tell him.”

Sophia’s eyes fluttered closed again. Her breathing slowed.

Evelyn cradled her daughter one last time, whispering stories in her ear, of stars and wolves and forests and magic. Of a world where no one ever got sick. Where little girls lived forever.

“Sleep now,” she murmured. “Go where it doesn’t hurt.”

There was no final gasp. No drama.

Just a stillness so heavy it made the world tilt and Evelyn’s head feel dizzy.

Sophia was gone.

Evelyn didn’t scream. She didn’t move. She sat there, rocking her daughter in the silence of the room, the storm outside echoing the one within her chest.

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that. Hours, maybe. The candles burned down to stubs. Her fingers went numb from holding too tightly.

Eventually, she stood.

She laid Sophia back onto the mattress and pulled the little blanket over her chest. She smoothed her hair, kissed her forehead, and whispered a last goodbye.

Then, she turned to the window.

Rain pelted the glass, lightning splitting the sky in jagged white veins. Somewhere out there, Adrian was living his life—carefree. Unburdened.

Unaware?

Uncaring?

Her fingers clenched into fists.

She needed to see him. She needed answers. She needed him to look her in the eye and tell her why he wasn’t there.

That was when the pain hit.

A hot, twisting jolt straight through her chest. She cried out, stumbling back from the window, clutching her ribs.

Her wolf howled inside her—a scream of rage and heartbreak.

Not grief.

Not hers.

It was him.

Adrian.

The bond flared again, unmistakable.

It wasn’t grief.

It was… arousal.

She knew the feeling well. It always came like a sickness—a cold sweat, a heart throb, a rush of nausea. Her soul still carried enough of his that she could feel it when he touched her.

Or touched someone else.

He was with Nina. Right now. While their daughter still lay warm in death. While Evelyn bled grief into the floorboards, he was in someone else’s bed.

The promise he made to Sophia—gone.

The one thing their daughter wanted before she died.

Gone.

Evelyn stood up on shaking legs, a red haze descending over her vision. Her wolf stirred, teeth bared, claws itching beneath the skin.

She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t survive this anymore.

She had given up her dreams. Her youth. Her heart. Her body. Her child.

And Adrian had given her lies.

Lies and abandonment.

Her heart was done breaking. Now it wanted revenge.

Her body trembled with rage as the storm outside cracked open the sky.

Evelyn turned toward the door, her eyes glowing with fury.

A promise had been broken.

A child had been lost.

And a mate had made his choice.

He would regret it.