03

Chapter 3 

Elena’s POV

The days after that night felt like a cruel joke from the Moon Goddess. I tried to search up Lucien’s name but was met with numerous answers and the ones I was seeing didn't add up to who I had spent the night with. Something even more tragic happened. 

One moment, I was a pack healer—respected, if not exactly adored. The next, I was scrubbing grease off cast iron pots while Samantha paraded around like a crowned queen.

She’d wasted no time in showing me what she can do.

“Elena Vale,” she had announced in front of the infirmary staff two mornings after the wedding. “By order of the Alpha—and myself, of course—you’re no longer assigned to the medical wing. Your new post is in the kitchens, where your… humble background might be better appreciated.” She snickered. 

The paper she thrust at me bore the Alpha’s seal. My protest died on my lips.

I was dismissed. Just like that.

I had trained for years. I had saved lives. But one rejection, one night, and I was tossed to the lowest rung in the pack like garbage.

That’s how I ended up elbow-deep in leftover stew by dusk, trying not to cry as my hands bled from scrubbing.

That’s also how I met Ava.

She was the only one who didn’t look at me like I belonged on the floor. A little older than me, with kind eyes and steady hands. She worked fast, talked faster, and smiled even when she was clearly exhausted.

“Don’t let them break you,” she whispered one night, passing me a warm roll under the table when my stomach growled. “You’ve already survived worse. I can see it in your eyes.”

I offered her a smile, thin but grateful.

Weeks passed.

I tried not to think about that night in the garden. About him. About Lucien. But I couldn't help it. Not when I still dreamed of that night. Of his touch. His grunts. The way he felt against me. 

My eyes went closed briefly as I regulated my breaths. 

He never told me his last name. Never said where he was from. Never even said goodbye.

But his mark remained on my neck—a faint warmth that pulsed beneath my skin every time I touched it. I used the concealer to cover the mark so as not to draw attention. 

It meant something.

Didn’t it?

I tried to forget him. Really, I did. But when I woke up nauseous for the third morning in a row and nearly fainted from the smell of roasted garlic, I knew something was wrong.

Ava noticed too.

“You’ve looked pale all week,” she said, eyes narrowing as we cleaned carrots over the sink. “And you’ve been skipping dinner. Are you sick?”

I hesitated. Then I pulled her aside, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Ava… I think I’m pregnant.”

Her eyes widened.

I exhaled shakily. “I don’t even know who he really is. His name was Lucien. He marked me. I didn’t plan for this, Ava. I just…”

“Lucien?” she repeated, frowning. “As in—wait, marked you?”

I nodded. “I didn’t know until the morning. He was gone when I woke up, but I felt it—his scent, his energy. I know it was real. I know the bond clicked, even if I don’t know what it means yet.”

Ava looked stunned. “Do you know where he came from? Which pack?”

“No,” I whispered. “That’s what’s killing me. I want to find him, but I have no idea where to start.” Sadness settled in my belly as I confessed the truth that has been bugging me. 

“I might be able to—”

“What did you just say?” 

My blood turned to ice and my eyes went wide. Oh no!

The voice came from behind us, cold and sharp like broken glass. Slowly, I turned—and there she was.

Samantha.

Her arms crossed, lips curled in disgust. Her eyes snapped to my neck, then to Ava, and back to me.

“You,” she spat, stepping forward, “dared to lie with another wolf while still moaning over my mate?”

I stood my ground, heart pounding. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t I?” she sneered. “I heard everything. You’re pregnant. And you have a mark. His mark.”

I swallowed hard.

Samantha’s eyes flared with fury. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking about? Who you let touch you?”

I didn’t answer.

“That man was mine,” she snapped. “He was supposed to be my future, my crown—and you… you filthy little stray stole him from under my nose!”

“That’s not true—”

“Shut up!” she barked. “You seduced him like a desperate little mutt in heat, and now you think carrying his bastard gives you power?”

Ava stepped forward. “Samantha, that’s enough. You have no right—”

“Stay out of this,” Samantha hissed, shoving Ava aside.

She turned back to me, breathing hard. “You think I’ll let you ruin this for me? Think again. Even if I can’t have him, I won’t let a filthy whore like you have you.”

Who was she talking about? Of course, she would know him. The way she had spoken to him showed she knew him. Why didn't I think of this?

And before I could move, she grabbed my wrist.

Hard.

“You’re coming with me, you worthless bitch. Going around, seducing men all for what? Just because you are a pathetic orphan who feeds on people’s pity. I will never allow it!”

“Samantha, let go!” I yanked, but she didn’t budge.

“You want to whimper about being a healer? A kitchen maid? Oh, darling,” she whispered darkly, her breath hot against my face, “I’m about to show you what it really means to suffer.”

Then she dragged me out of the kitchen, guards flanking her without question.

I screamed for Ava.

But no one came. A painful reminder that I was truly alone.