Chapter 3

Less than five minutes later, Fenris's car screeched to a halt.

He leaped from the car, his face a mask of fury, and stalked straight toward me.

"Freya, you..." His gaze was fixed on the blood on my face, completely ignoring everyone else.

"Fenris..." Vanessa sobbed, tears streaming down her perfect face. "Freya was bleeding in front of me, and I got so scared... The elders say it's a bad omen for a pregnant she-wolf to see blood... I'm worried about our baby..."

Only then did he seem to remember Vanessa was there. He whirled on me and struck me across the face.

The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the garden.

My cheek burned, and I tasted blood in my mouth.

"You knew she was pregnant, and you chose to bleed all over her?" He seized my chin, his grip tight enough to shatter bone. "Were you trying to curse my child?"

"I couldn't control—"

"Couldn't control it?" he sneered. "You Silver Crest wolves are all the same. You've played the victim for so long you've forgotten who you really are!"

I tried to explain, but Fenris was done listening. He crouched down, his fingers digging into my jaw. "You had better behave yourself," he hissed. "Don't forget about the gravestone in the back garden."

My heart skipped a beat.

That was the memorial for our dead child. His child, too.

How could he…

"If anything happens to Vanessa or this baby," Fenris whispered in my ear, his voice a demonic murmur, "I will smash that stone to dust with my own hands and curse the memory of your bloodline for eternity."

I knew he hated me, but I never imagined he could be so cruel, even to the memory of our own child.

"Please!"

Rain mixed with tears, streaming down my face. I knelt at the entrance of Fenris's villa, soaked to the bone.

"Don't destroy the gravestone, I'm begging you!"

Fenris stood under the portico, his suit immaculate, his eyes showing no hint of emotion.

"Then give me a reason not to," he said, his voice as cold as the autumn rain.

"That was our child!" I screamed. "That was your blood, too!"

"My child?" Fenris scoffed. "That thing was the bastard of a Silver Crest. You think a whelp like that ever deserved to be my heir?"

Every word was a knife in my heart.

"I'll be good," I said, my voice trembling. "I'll do anything you say. Just please, don't destroy it."

"Freya!" Vanessa's voice, dripping with false concern, called from inside. "What are you doing? Come inside, you'll catch a cold!"

She emerged wearing one of Fenris's black shirts, her slightly swollen belly on display.

"Fenris, let Freya come in," Vanessa said, linking her arm with his. "A pregnant wolf needs a peaceful environment, but I can't bear to see her like this."

She had deceived everyone with her endless, saccharine lies, making them all believe she was the one who had saved Fenris, and I was the mastermind behind the attack.

"It's fine," Fenris said without looking at me. "Let her kneel."

"But—"

"I said, let her kneel!" His Alpha authority flared, and Vanessa immediately fell silent.

The rain fell harder. I knelt on the stone steps, feeling the life drain out of me. Chilled by the rain, the Silverthorn Toxin in my body grew more active, and my chest felt like it was being shredded by a thousand knives.

"Is this enough?" I looked up at Fenris. "I'm already like this. What more do you want?"

"Like this?" He didn't go inside. Instead, he stood beside me, letting the rain soak his hair and face. "This is nothing. What your Silver Crest pack did to us was ten thousand times crueler than this."

I finally lost my strength and pitched forward. My forehead struck the stone step with a sickening thud, and blood gushed from the wound.

The loud impact drew everyone's attention. Fenris's brow furrowed, and a sudden, sharp pain in his chest made him break out in a cold sweat. Freya was bleeding too much—an abnormal amount. A sense of unease crept over him.

"Get the doctor. Now," he ordered Marcus.

Ten minutes later, a middle-aged man rushed in.

"Dr. Anderson!" Vanessa was the first to greet him. "Quick, check on Freya. She fell very hard."

Anderson knelt, examined my wound, and then stood up.

"Alpha, the wound on her forehead is superficial," he said, glancing at Vanessa. "But the amount of blood is… unusual for such a small cut. And the angle and force of the impact are consistent with a self-inflicted wound."

"On purpose?" Fenris's eyes turned to ice again.

"Yes," Anderson nodded. "The angle and force of the impact are consistent with a self-inflicted wound."

I instinctively tried to explain, but my voice was too hoarse to make a sound. It didn't matter. I was going to die in a day anyway. Nothing I said would change a thing.

"Enough." Fenris turned and went inside. "Let her continue kneeling."

"Fenris—" I called after him with the last of my strength.

He paused but didn't turn back.

"If you're so determined to destroy that gravestone," I whispered, my voice barely audible, "then do it after I'm dead."

It wouldn't be long now.

The door slammed shut, leaving me abandoned in the rainy night. My body temperature dropped, and my consciousness began to fade.