Chapter 3

Zade’s POV

She was prettier than I expected.

A shallow first thought, but one that could be excused. Her black, wavy hair fell past her shoulders and her dress, though simple, accentuated her figure.

My second thought was that she looked like she would rather be anywhere else but here. Understandable for obvious reasons, but she kept herself isolated from everyone else. Her only company were the glasses that she swiped off of the waiters' trays.

If I approached her then, it would be too obvious.

But everyone else walked past her like she was furniture; in contrast, Veil the concubine had people fluttering around her.

I saw my chance and I quite literally grabbed it as Rowan began a speech that called everyone’s attention. I was taking her outside to the garden when I heard it:

"It is my utmost joy to tell you all that I have chosen an heir, and that is no one else than my son, Bramwell."

I gritted my teeth against each other. I already knew this man was a fool, but how could he? Announcing this publicly was the same as spitting in his Luna’s face. The secret I have held in my chest for years told me that he had done worse—far worse.

She felt limp against me after that announcement; it was as if it had stolen the strength away from her legs and the rest of her. I walked slower and held on tighter. By the time we reached the garden, she was on the verge of collapse. She didn’t even question me as I guided her to a secluded section with decorative bushes, resting her on the Lutyens bench, my arm instinctively pressed against her lower back to keep her balance.

She made contact with the bench and it set her off like a trigger. Her fingers dug into my arms, her claws extending into the fabric until they touched toned muscles and finally broke skin. I didn't flinch, as I was no stranger to pain; it was more of a familiar friend constantly hanging by my doorstep.

She cried in my arms the way no one had ever done, until she was heaving. Her grief permeated the air. Again, something I was familiar with.

By the time she had leaked out enough from her broken dam of emotions, she looked up at me—eyes glossy with tears, face flushed red, and her hair a tangled black crown on her head.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t—" She aggressively wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "Are you... are you the one that texted me?"

I nodded, slow and deliberate, still standing in front of her to completely eclipse her in case someone actually stumbled here, but so far we were alone.

"You said you knew something about my daughter... Ellie..."

Hesitation grabbed at my throat. She was already a wreck; could she handle this?

"Maybe we should talk some other time. You already look—"

"Please, I can’t wait another moment... I know she’s gone already, but her body... If you could tell me the location of where it was buried... then..."

"I don't know where her body is," I admitted honestly.

She looked at me critically. "Then what did you mean when you said you could tell me about her?" she asked, her voice shifting from sadness to sharpness in the blink of an eye. "Is this a prank?"

She snapped her head from one side to the other. "Did Veil put you up to this to humiliate me further?"

She was standing up with the accusation blasted out. I stepped forward, holding one shoulder and guiding her back to the bench.

"No, please listen, because this *does* concern your daughter."

In that moment, I swirled through a million different approaches that I could use to explain what I knew, and found myself reiterating what had happened five years ago.

I had been called into the hospital for an emergency surgery—not unusual. As an Alpha and a healer, I was always there when my pack needed me. But that night, I was called in for a patient from a distant pack: Ellie.

Not to treat her; the window for that was long gone.

"I want you to transplant from my daughter to my son," Rowan had said. Back then, he had a little sense of shame to look conflicted by the choice. "She has always had a weak life core. I honestly didn’t think I would get to spend this much time with her. Her brother... she said she wanted to give him her heart, that it was her last wish."

There wasn’t much time to waste, but my instincts told me to speak to the girl. She was barely a whisper of a person, still clinging to life. When she saw me, she turned to her side, seemingly taking all of the strength left in her little body to do so. She couldn’t speak anymore, but the way she reached for my hand and squeezed my fingers so tight... it was the sight of someone who’d fought and was still doing that until her last breath. The machines above her began to beep erratically and she took one last deep breath, her back curving, before her hand loosened and slumped down to the bed.

After I told her this, Luna Philia shot up to her feet. Fresh tears were glimmering in her eyes.

"Why... why are you telling me all this? Did you come all the way from your pack just to twist the knife in my chest? What kind of sick man are you?! You don’t even know where her body is, so why would you come here and tell me this?! Do you think I’m not suffering enough?!"

She clenched her fingers into fists, pounding on my chest. If I had been a lesser wolf, my rib cage would have probably caved in, but I didn’t stir. I let her pour out more of her anger before I said:

"I didn’t come here for that." I held her arms up as they came for another set of swings, then gathering my breath, I said, "Your daughter's death was not just some inevitable tragedy. I did my digging, and I have evidence..."

"Of what?!" she screamed.

"Your mate," my voice fell despite myself. "He was the one that let her die so that his son could have a donor.”