CHAPTER 9

“I… don’t know,” Elizabeth admitted, lowering her voice. “I haven’t really seen her in person, but the rumors say she’s old, so very old. They say she patrols around the pack sometimes… picking herbs.”

Picking herbs?

My breath caught in my throat. That old woman had been picking herbs when I saw her. My vision blurred, my head grew heavy and fuzzy. How could that be possible? No—no, it couldn’t be. How could he…?

“Are you okay?” the healer’s gentle voice cut into my spiraling thoughts.

I nodded weakly, though my stomach twisted in painful knots. Why couldn’t I be happy? Why did everything keep falling apart around me? My parents were gone, murdered by the very people I thought we could trust. The one person I had cherished and loved with my entire being had betrayed me. And now… my child.

“This child belongs to Lucas,” I whispered fiercely in my mind, clutching my belly. “Nobody else.” But even as I said it, the words felt like I was trying to convince myself more than anyone else.

I tried to rise, desperate to steady my thoughts, but my feet gave out beneath me. I collapsed weakly onto the bed. Strong hands caught me immediately.

“Dear, don’t hurt your child,” the pack healer murmured, supporting me. “Calm down. Do you want to lose your baby?”

I shook my head frantically, tears burning my eyes.

“That’s good.” Her voice softened even more, warm and motherly. “Then don’t take things so hard. Don’t let the weight of the world fall on your shoulders. If not for yourself, then for the little one you carry.” She caressed my cheek with a gentleness that almost broke me.

I sucked in a sharp breath, lungs aching. How could I possibly tell her that doubts gnawed at me every moment? That I wasn’t even sure about the truth of this pregnancy? That something inside me screamed that not everything was as it seemed?

Silence pressed on the room like a heavy blanket. Elizabeth and the healer both looked at me with pity in their eyes, and I hated it. I hated that look. But I couldn’t blame them. Who wouldn’t pity me, knowing what I had lost, knowing the betrayal I carried? And if they ever discovered the doubt eating at me… they would pity me even more.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my fingers into my temples. What am I even saying? Lucas is the father of my child. He is. He must be. But deep down, a sliver of doubt whispered otherwise. Something wasn’t right.

“Are you ready to take your bath now?” the healer asked softly, breaking the silence. “Or would you rather have dinner first?”

“I’ll bathe,” I murmured. “I… don’t think I can eat.”

“You must eat,” she insisted kindly. “For the sake of the pup. Do you want your child to be born weak? I know you’re hurting, I know your heart carries scars, but you must not punish the innocent life inside you. Please, eat.”

Her words carried warmth, and guilt wrapped around me like a chain. She was right. No matter how broken I was, I couldn’t shatter the only good thing left in me. I nodded slowly. “I’ll eat.”

Elizabeth smiled faintly and hurried off, no doubt to fetch food. Minutes later, maids swept in carrying trays piled with dishes. The fragrant aromas filled the room, and my stomach betrayed me with a growl. I hadn’t realized how starved I was until the first bite passed my lips. I devoured half the meal before exhaustion slowed me.

The maids cleared away the trays, and another set of attendants bustled in, readying my bath. Warm water and scented herbs eased my aching body, if only for a moment. Soon after, I slipped beneath the covers, alone in my room, left only with my restless thoughts.

But thoughts are dangerous when the night is quiet.

Doubt returned, whispering louder than ever. I needed answers—truth that only one person could give me. That old woman… she was the key. I needed to find her. She was the only one who could untangle this knot strangling me from within.

I sat up, heart pounding. Midnight had already fallen. The halls would be quieter now, easier to slip through unseen. I pulled the covers aside and crept toward the door. The knob turned with a faint click, and I peered into the hallway. The torches cast just enough light to drive back the shadows, but my heart still raced.

Step by step, I moved quietly, careful not to draw attention. If the moon soldiers saw me wandering, they would question me, and I wasn’t ready with lies. My feet carried me through corridors that stretched endlessly, and still I couldn’t find the garden. My body ached, and frustration gnawed at me.

“Where is it?” I muttered under my breath, frowning. “I thought it wasn’t far from the dinner hall.”

Then, at the corner of a hallway, I spotted it—a door slightly ajar. Curiosity tugged me forward. I pushed it open just enough to peer inside, and what I saw stole my breath.

A garden. But not the one I had first come across. This one was different, more intimate, almost like a secret sanctuary. The air smelled of blossoms and fresh earth. The grass beneath my feet was soft, the fragrance of flowers swirled through the night, and the wind brushed them gently, making the scene feel almost magical.

At the heart of it stood a white swing. My lips curved into a bittersweet smile. My mother used to push me on a swing like that. For a moment, the memories flooded me—her laughter, her arms, the warmth of home. Everything had been perfect once. We were happy, whole. Until the rogues came, ripping everything away.

I wiped my tears quickly, realizing I had been crying again. My chest ached with loneliness. Part of me wished I had died with them, instead of being left behind in this cruel, empty world.

Drawn by the memory, I sat on the swing and began to move gently back and forth. The creak of the ropes, the soft sway—it was comforting, almost healing. My smile deepened, fragile but real.

Then footsteps approached. My heart jumped. I rose swiftly, ready to retreat.

“Please, continue,” a soft, high-pitched voice called. “I’m not stopping you.”

Slowly, I turned. An elegant young woman stood before me, breathtaking in her beauty. Her long raven hair fell in waves to her waist, and the blue gown she wore clung to her figure like liquid silk. She moved with the grace of royalty, her head held high, her every step filled with power.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, her voice sharp yet seductively smooth. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

I shook my head quickly. “No, it’s fine. I was just… fascinated by it, that’s all.”

Her gaze dropped to my stomach. Her expression hardened.

“Is Damien the father?”

My pulse quickened, my hands trembled. “No,” I answered quickly. “My mate, Lucas.”

Relief softened her features, and she smiled warmly. “That’s fine.”

For a moment, I studied her. She seemed so regal, her presence commanding yet alluring. “Are you… Damien’s cousin?” I asked hesitantly.

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “No. I’m Damien’s concubine.”

My breath caught. Damien… has a concubine?