Chapter 2

Giving birth under a Blood Moon without Moonveil felt like being ripped apart from the inside.

I bit down on the leather strap beside the bed, my nails gouging ten deep grooves into the wooden bed frame.

Somewhere between contractions, I thought of the notebook.

The man who never kept a calendar had filled a leather notebook with my checkup times in his sharp, impatient handwriting.

"I won't miss a single moment of our pup growing up," he had said, one hand on my belly.

Then Marcus died, and Valerie moved into the Alpha house.

Page by page, the names in that notebook thinned out, until only one was left.

It wasn't mine.

Something inside me went quiet. The next contraction dragged me back.

Thea kept urging me to push, tears falling onto the back of my hand.

At 3:46 a.m., my child was born.

A daughter.

She was far smaller than a normal pup, wrinkled and wet, like a drenched little bird.

She didn't cry.

One second. Two. Ten.

Thea went pale as the Healers rushed forward.

Ninety seconds.

For those ninety seconds, I kept praying to the Moon Goddess to spare my daughter.

Then, at last, a thin cry rang out, as faint as a kitten's mew.

My daughter had survived.

Through the haze of blood loss, I heard Thea tell someone that the Luna had nearly bled to death.

When I woke, dawn was breaking.

My pup lay in the crook of my arm, a tiny bundle, her chest rising and falling faintly.

I named her Wren.

Wrens are tiny birds, but they have surprisingly powerful songs.

"Where's Kieran?"

Thea couldn't meet my eyes.

Kieran's Beta, Neil, stood in the doorway.

He held a note in his hand and read from it like an official announcement.

"Luna, the Alpha says you should rest. He'll come once Valerie has finished giving birth."

"Please wait a little longer."

Wait, again.

I said nothing.

When Neil had gone, Thea leaned close.

"He stood outside your door for twenty minutes," she said. "He even asked me twice whether you were all right. Then Valerie screamed, and he left."

It didn't change anything. A man who stands outside a door is not a man who walked through it.

At 11:38 that morning, a long howl shook the entire manor.

Kieran.

The Welcome Howl.

By Blackwood custom, every newborn pup had to receive a Welcome Howl from the Alpha at the Moon Stone.

It was a declaration to the whole pack: This is my blood, and this pup is under my protection.

One howl. Two. Three.

One by one, howls rose from across the pack, answering his call.

Valerie had given birth.

A boy. Marcus's son.

And my daughter had been alive for more than seven hours.

Not a single wolf had howled for her.

According to ancient tradition, a pup who received no Welcome had no recognized place in the pack—and no promise of protection.

I looked down at Wren.

She was still asleep, her tiny fist wrapped around one of my fingers.

My phone lit up.

A video call from Valerie.

I shouldn't have answered.

But I did.

On the screen, Valerie leaned against the headboard, looking far too well for someone who had just given birth.

The baby boy in her arms was wrapped in a pale green blanket.

I recognized it. I'd spent three months sewing that blanket for Wren by hand, every stitch made with love.

And the cradle beside her was the oak one passed down through generations of Blackwoods. I had spent an entire summer restoring it with my own hands.

Kieran sat beside the cradle, holding the baby.

His head was bowed, his eyes filled with a light I hadn't seen in a long time.

"Sorry, Luna," Valerie said with a smile. "My blanket got dirty during the birth. Kieran said yours was brand new, so I borrowed it."

"You won't mind, right? You're always so generous."

I didn't answer.

The camera shifted.

Kieran's gaze moved across the screen and found me. Not Valerie, who was still smiling beside him. Me. It rested on the dark circles under my eyes, then on the tiny bundle in my arms, and stayed there a beat too long.

Something flickered behind his eyes. It looked almost like worry.

For a moment, he seemed about to ask how I was doing. Then Valerie shifted beside him, and the moment passed.

"Thea said you're both fine," he said. "Then stop making a scene, Serena."

"Fine?" My voice was so hoarse it didn't sound like mine. "Wren didn't breathe for ninety seconds after she was born. I nearly bled to death."

"Kieran, you weren't there."

He frowned.

"But you're both alive now. The outcome was good, wasn't it?"

"Valerie was in labor for ten hours. You delivered in three. You're making it sound like a disaster when it clearly wasn't."

I gripped the phone until my knuckles went white.

Off camera, Valerie gently tugged at his sleeve.

"Kieran, don't blame Luna. She didn't mean it..."

She lowered her eyes and rolled up her sleeve.

A ring of purple bruises circled her wrist.

"Last night the pain was unbearable, and she kept cursing me through the mind-link from the other side of the wall, saying I'd stolen her medicine. I was so scared... scared it would hurt my baby."

"I tried to shut the link, but she still..."

I was speechless.

I had cried out last night.

I had begged them to give the medicine to my pup.

But in Valerie's mouth, that became cursing.

"Valerie was in labor," Kieran said, his voice darkening. "You frightened her, Serena."

"Ask Thea," I said. "Last night I couldn't even sit up. How could I—"

"Valerie already told me. What is there left to check?"

He reached out, took Valerie's wrist, and looked down at it.

"Does it hurt?"

Valerie shook her head, though her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm fine. I'm just a little scared... If Luna can say things like that, I don't know what else she might do."

Kieran turned back to me.

"Serena, apologize to Valerie."

"Valerie has complained to me many times that you resent how fast she is."

After Marcus died, Valerie moved into our home.

"Have you forgotten?" I stared at him. "Before Valerie moved in, you never once said I was slow."

He was quiet for a moment.

"Before Valerie," he said, "I didn't know how fast a person could be."

I knew I would never forget those words as long as I lived.

"Apologize, and this ends here."

He ended the call.

A few seconds later, a notification popped up in my Luna account: Account frozen.

A message from Neil followed right behind: "Luna, the Alpha says your access will be restored once you've learned your lesson."

I asked, "When is he coming? Tell him to say it to my face."

"That... depends on your behavior."

Soon, a document landed in my inbox.

The title read: "Luna Serena Frost: Waiting Period Agreement."

In other words, the waiting period before I was allowed to see my mate.

I opened it.

[Complete all Luna duties on time, take the pup to scheduled Healer checkups, and submit proof: the waiting period before the Luna may see the Alpha is reduced by one-fifth.]

[Remain emotionally stable and avoid outbursts: waiting period reduced by one-third.]

[Apologize sincerely to Valerie in person: waiting period cleared.]

The last line, in bold, felt like a dull blade.

[Violation of any term: waiting period doubled.]