Chapter 1

~~Imogene's POV~~

“A cursed child!”

“She should have been the one who went missing!”

“Better still, she should have been the one who died.”

The words cut through my quiet sleeping, and pulled me awake. I shot up, heart pounding, breath catching like I had been drowning in my own nightmare. But this wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory that had replayed so often in my mind that even my dreams had memorized it.

I closed my eyes again, just for a moment, hoping that maybe I could push it all back. But the words had already sunk into me like splinters under skin—sharp, painful, impossible to remove. They were the voices of my people. My pack. My so-called family. No matter how many years passed, they never let me forget.

The stainless steel cup sat on the nightstand, it felt cold as I picked it up. I reached for the pills I’d been prescribed, something to help with my constant headaches. 

I paused with the pill halfway to my lips, then slowly put it back down. I had promised myself not to use it anymore. Just water today. Let the pain stay. Maybe it’s the only thing that reminds me I’m still alive.

I took a slow sip and stared out at the morning light trickling through the window. I should’ve been numb by now, right? After twenty years of being the unwanted daughter, the cursed twin, the one whose very birth spelled death for someone else. But no. The words still stung. They still echoed. And it still made me bleed inside.

My name is Imogene. Firstborn daughter of Alpha Ronin of the Moonclaw Pack. Except, no one treats me like a daughter. Not really. I was born minutes after my twin brother, Malakai. Minutes. That’s all it took for everything to go wrong.

He was born perfect. I was born in blood and screams. My mother died giving birth to me, the few final seconds of her life snuffed out by my arrival. My father had been in the room. He saw it all. And from that day, I wasn’t a child to him; I was the one who killed his mate.

Malakai was everything I wasn’t. Bright. Loved. Celebrated. By the age of seven, he had shifted. A beautiful, strong wolf. The entire pack adored him, and he was the only one who adored me back then. He was the only one who didn’t look at me like I was filth. He used to sneak me desserts, sit beside me when others walked away, and whisper jokes that made me laugh. 

But that ended too.

At fourteen, the Moonclaw pack was ambushed. A savage raid from a rival clan shattered the peace we knew. There was fire. Screams. Blood. In the chaos, Malakai was taken. One moment he was there beside me, the next, gone. No trace. No trail. 

They searched for months. My father nearly burned through half the forest looking for him. But in the end, the search parties stopped. The prayers ceased. And the blame? It settled right back on me.

“Should have been you,” they whispered. “Always you.”

I blinked away the sting in my eyes and turned to the right.

Damian was beside me, chest rising and falling in slow rhythm of sleep. My husband. My rock, I told myself on days I felt like shattering. He looked peaceful like this. Gentle. Trusting. Unaware of the thoughts that were troubling me. 

He is the son of the Beta of the pack, and he has been by my side since two years ago, when my father’s failing health forced him to give up the leadership to me, and at that time I also got married to Damian. We weren’t fated mates, but we loved each other. I was just eighteen. Too young, too hated, too wrong in the eyes of the pack. But tradition held tight: the firstborn child of the Alpha takes the mantle, especially when the other heir is lost to silence.

They grumbled. Fought it. Some even protested.

But in the end, they had no choice.

Imogene, the cursed one, became She-Alpha of Moonclaw.

They followed me. Not out of love, but law.

And I led them. Not out of pride, but because I had to.

Even now, after two years, I could still feel their eyes like knives in my back. They never called me Alpha with their heart. Never bowed with respect. I wore the title, yes, but they had brought my worth down to scraps long ago.

Still, I ruled.

Because someone had to.

Damian stirred slightly, his face brushing against the pillow, and I smiled faintly. I reached to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, but then I felt nauseous hit before I could touch him.

I barely made it to the bathroom before everything came back up.

The sound of vomiting must’ve woken him up. I heard the covers shift and felt the thud of his feet hitting the floor. A moment later, he was by the door.

“Immy?” he called softly. “Are you okay?”

I wiped my mouth and nodded quickly, not turning to meet his eyes. “Yeah. Just something I ate.”

“You barely ate yesterday.”

He was right. My appetite had been missing for days now. But still, I waved him off. “Probably stress. I’ll be fine.”

At that moment, Vivian entered, my stepsister and, oddly, one of the few people who didn’t treat me like something useless. My father had gotten remarried to a single mom of one after Malakai’s disappearance. He was seeking comfort to deal with the loss and he chose to seek that comfort from a stranger rather than his own daughter who was right there with arms stretched wide open.

Vivian’s face scrunched with concern the second she saw me. 

“Imogene! What happened? Are you sick?”

“I’m okay, it’s nothing serious.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re throwing up,” she said, folding her arms. “You need to see the pack doctor.”

Damian stepped in. “She hasn’t been eating. I’ve noticed. Even before yesterday.”

I frowned at both of them. “You two are acting like I’m pregnant or something.”

A half-laugh slipped out of me, dry and bitter. The irony of it hit harder than I expected. We’ve been trying to get pregnant for two years now. Trying. Hoping. Praying. And every time, the moon was silent.

“I’ll go,” I said finally. “Just to shut you both up.”

They smiled, relieved.

But I didn’t miss the way Damian looked away when I mentioned pregnancy. Didn’t miss how his eyes darted to the floor. I chalked it up to just the awkwardness. Men were weird about that stuff.

Or so I thought.

The clinic smelled like pine-scented sanitizer. The nurse gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and led me to the back. It was routine. Blood tests. Vital signs. And then a urine sample.

I sat on the examination table, swaying my feet like a nervous child.

When the doctor returned, his face was unreadable.

“She-Alpha Imogene,” he said, holding up the chart. “You’re pregnant.”

The words knocked the breath from my lungs. I stared at him, then blinked hard.

“Wh-what?”

He repeated it. Patiently. Kindly. Like I might shatter if he said it too loud.

I wasn’t sure what emotion came first. Disbelief? Relief? Joy?

Tears welled up in my eyes. I hadn’t expected this. Not now. Not ever. I had stopped hoping. And yet here it was, a tiny heartbeat forming inside me. A miracle, growing where only curses once lived.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

I left the clinic with my heart feeling lighter than it had ever felt. The sky seemed clearer. The trees looked greener. I had to tell Damian. He would be so happy. We would finally have a child. A family.

When I got home, I didn't go straight to our room, I took a detour instead.

My father’s room.

He was being treated there. Bedridden and bitter. But I thought maybe, just maybe, this news would melt some of the coldness in his heart. Maybe he’d be happy. Maybe he’d smile.

I wanted that smile more than I cared to admit.

I had made him lose his mate and lose a son, but maybe with this child, I could help undo half of what I did. Maybe knowing his generation would live on would make him say he was proud of me for the first time in his life.

I walked in quietly. The guards stationed at the hallway leading to his room greeted me with a nod as I entered. Everywhere was quiet except for a maid trimming the flowers blooming from the vases near the window. On seeing me, her eyes grew wide with an expression I couldn't quite place. She turned and curtsied, and I responded with a nod before walking up the stairs. 

The hallway to his room was dim. Familiar. I paused at the door to his room. And that’s when I heard it.

Moaning.

Guttural. Rhythmic. Unmistakable.

Confused, I pushed open the door.

And the world shattered.

Vivian. Pressed against the wall. Gown raised high. Legs wrapped around someone.

Damian.

My husband.

Thrusting into her like he belonged there. Her head was thrown back. His mouth at her throat. Passion. Betrayal. 

The pain was instantaneous. Like a punch to the soul.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.

They saw me.

Damian froze.

Vivian gasped.

My father, pale and lean on the bed, said nothing. 

This was the final confirmation that yes, Imogene, the cursed one, had lost again.