Damaged

"I lost our pups."

"Mm." His thumb kept moving across the screen.

"Anyway, Brody hasn't eaten yet. Make him breakfast. Simple is fine."

I didn't respond. I was too stunned to respond. What Cain was doing was cruel beyond anything I had words for. After everything I had given up, after walking away from my own future to marry him, after eight years of this house and this pack and this life that never once felt like it belonged to me.

"Oh and Celeste is here too. Make enough for three."

Brody looked up from his toys. "I want pancakes, Aunt Leah!"

Cain's whole face softened as he looked at him. "Pancakes take too long, bud. Eggs for now, yeah?" Then he glanced over at me to confirm. "That work?"

Before I could say anything, the sound of heels came down the main staircase. Precise and unhurried.

Lady Margaret. Cain's mother.

She descended the stairs in a silk robe the color of ash, silver hair already pinned perfectly, a cup of coffee in one hand like she had been awake for hours and had simply been waiting for the right moment to make an entrance. She was the former Luna of Crescent Blood Pack, and she never let a single person in this house forget it.

Her eyes landed on me and stayed there for a moment with an expression that wasn't surprise and wasn't concern. It was closer to mild inconvenience, the way you'd look at a piece of furniture that had been moved to the wrong spot.

"You're back, good then...," she said.

Then she turned away from me entirely, as if the sentence had fully closed the matter, and opened her arms toward Celeste.

"There she is." Her whole face changed. Warm, genuine, the smile she kept for people she actually wanted in her home. She took Celeste's face in both hands and kissed her on each cheek. "You look absolutely radiant, my darling. And last night at the festival, the Moon practically glowed for you. Everyone was talking about it."

Celeste laughed softly. "It's so good to be back, Lady Margaret."

"It felt right, didn't it. Having you there." Margaret's voice carried just enough weight to make sure the words landed exactly where she intended them to. "The way the pack responded to you standing with Cain at the blessing ceremony. That is what a true Alpha pair looks like. That is what this pack has always needed."

She said it in my living room. In front of me. Without lowering her voice by a single degree.

"We've missed you terribly. This house has been so dull." She looped her arm through Celeste's and guided her back toward the sofa like she was escorting her to a seat of honor.

Then she stopped and looked back at me over her shoulder.

"Leah. The east guest room on the second floor, Celeste will be taking that one. The one with the morning light." She set her coffee down on the side table. "Strip the bed and put the summer linens on. The white ones, not those gray ones you put on last time. And dust the shelves properly this time, I ran my finger along the top of the wardrobe last week and it was unacceptable."

I looked at her. "I just got out of the hospital."

Margaret picked up her coffee again and took a slow sip, completely unbothered. "Yes, I'm aware." Her tone was the same one she used when Brody tracked mud in from outside. Tired. Faintly annoyed. "And yet here you are, standing upright. So the room shouldn't be a problem."

"I had a miscarriage."

The word sat in the room for exactly one second before Margaret set her cup down with a small precise click.

"Leah." Her voice dropped into that register she used when she wanted to make clear she was being patient against her better judgment. "Every she-wolf in this pack has faced hardship of one kind or another. That is the nature of what we are. Carrying on is not cruelty, it is simply expectation."

She paused, letting the next part breathe.

"Besides, a weak womb is hardly something new for you, is it. The pack healers warned Cain about this before the bonding ceremony. We all knew the risks of taking an omega as Luna." She picked up her coffee again. "Some she-wolves are simply not built to carry Alpha bloodlines. It is not a failing of character. It is just biology."

She said it so cleanly. So reasonably. Like she was explaining weather patterns.

"Celeste lost her mate while she was carrying Abel's pup and she still stood at the sacred bonfire last night with her head up. She honored the Moon Goddess even through her grief, even through everything fate took from her." Margaret glanced toward Celeste with an expression that was as close to reverence as I had ever seen on her face. "When a she-wolf loses her mate, she loses half her soul. Anyone in this pack will tell you that. And yet there she stood. That is what strength looks like. That is what this pack deserves to see in a Luna."

Celeste said nothing. She had opened her magazine and was looking at it with the careful attention of someone who had decided this had nothing to do with her.

Cain was still on his phone.

"The room, Leah," Margaret said, final, like she was closing a door. "Celeste has had a long trip. And she has more right to rest in this house than you seem to understand."

I looked at the three of them. Cain on the sofa not looking at me. Celeste with her magazine and her tea and her suitcases in my entryway. Margaret watching me with that expression that had never once in eight years held anything close to warmth.

And Brody on the rug with his toys, already humming to himself, already somewhere else entirely.

I turned and walked to the kitchen. I didn't say anything. I stopped noticing the pain that moved through me with every step because what was the point of noticing it anymore.

Three eggs. Six slices of toast. Bacon. Orange juice for Brody who refused milk every single morning no matter how I tried. I plated everything, set it on the table, and called Brody to come eat.

Then I went upstairs.

I walked past the east guest room without stopping.

I went to my own room, pulled a bag from the closet, and started packing the things that were mine. It didn't take long. There was never very much.

I sat on the edge of the bed and called Mr. Whitmore.

Two rings.

"Whitmore speaking."

"Good morning, Mr. Whitmore. This is Leah Hargrove. I need your help."

"I'm listening, Mrs. Hargrove."

"I want to file for divorce and bonding termination," I said it the way I say something I decided a long time ago. "As soon as possible."