Chapter 5

Skye 

Jaxon never came back that night.

Or the next morning. Or the morning after that.

I heard from one of the pack doctors—not from my husband—that Liam had been rushed to the medical wing. Something about his lungs, a complication they hadn't anticipated. Cassandra hadn't left his side.

Neither had Jaxon.

Apparently my sister has always been his priority. He just fooled everyone into believing otherwise. And I fooled myself into thinking I mattered.

By the end of the week, Liam passed the dangerous period. Within hours, Jaxon had them moved back into the Alpha house. Not a word to me about it. I simply came downstairs one morning to find Cassandra's jasmine scent threaded through the kitchen again, and a small pair of shoes lined up neatly by the door.

The Alpha house has always served more than just the Alpha's family. Over the years, it has sheltered the injured, the elderly, the orphaned, the widowed. Anyone the pack deemed in need of care and proximity to leadership. It's tradition. It's duty.

And now, apparently, ex-lovers are part of that esteemed list. 

So when Cassandra and Liam moved back in, no one questioned it.

But everyone noticed. 

The whispers start small. A glance held a beat too long when I walk through the market. Two elders who fall silent the moment I enter a room. A young wolf—barely shifted—who asks me, wide-eyed and innocent, if it's true that the Alpha has found a second Luna.

I smile and tell her no. That Luna is a title, not a relationship. That the pack has only one Luna, and she's standing right in front of her.

The girl nods, unconvinced.

I don't blame her. Even I'm not sure I believe it anymore.

The days blur together after that. I perform my duties. I oversee the welcome ceremony for the visiting pack delegation. I mediate the family dispute. I smile and nod and do everything a Luna is supposed to do, all while my husband sits at the head of the table each night with Cassandra on one side and Liam on the other, and I sit at the far end like a guest in my own home.

At night, I lie in our bed—my bed now, really—and press my hand to my stomach. The baby is still early. Too early for any visible signs. But I can feel the change in my body already. The exhaustion that pulls at me like an undertow. The nausea that creeps in without warning.

I am bound to this pack by my title. Bound to Jaxon by a mate bond I didn't choose. And bound to this tiny life growing inside me—a life I can't tell anyone about. Not Jaxon. Not Noah. Not anyone, not yet.

Because if Jaxon finds out, he'll use it. Not out of love. Out of duty. The same cold sense of obligation that made him marry me in the first place. And I refuse to give him another reason to keep me on a leash.

So I swallow the secret and carry it alone.

I watch my life shatter in front of my eyes, and all I can do is keep my head held high when the world is tearing me apart.

—

It's a Thursday evening when it happens.

Dinner is a quiet affair, as it's been all week. Liam chatters about a butterfly he found in the garden. Cassandra listens with that practiced, beatific smile—the one that makes her look like the warmest person in any room. Jaxon responds to his son in clipped but not unkind tones, and I watch the three of them from my end of the table like I'm observing strangers through glass.

I'm pushing food around my plate when Jaxon speaks.

"We're going to Green Springs this weekend." He doesn't look up from his meal. "The hot springs resort on the mountain. You're coming with us."

The words land in the middle of the table like a bomb exploding and I flinch in my seat.

Cassandra's hand drifts to Jaxon's, a brief, deliberate touch. When she looks at me, her smile is soft. Angelic. It makes my skin crawl.

"It'll be good for Liam," she says. "The mineral waters are supposed to help with his condition. Don't you think, Skye?"

I stare at her. At the careful innocence in her eyes. At the way she positions herself—not as an intruder, but as a concerned mother simply doing what's best for her child. As if I'm the unreasonable one for finding any of this strange.

"I don't think I should—" I start.

"You're coming." Jaxon's gaze lifts to meet mine for the first time all week. Those steel-gray eyes pin me in place with an intensity that makes my breath catch. His Alpha aura rolls off him in waves—not aggressive, but immovable. Final.

It's not a request.

I hold his stare for a long moment, searching for something—anything—that tells me he sees me. That somewhere behind that wall of authority and pride, the man I’ve always hoped would look at me like I was worth something exists in there somewhere.

I find nothing.

"Fine," I say quietly, and look back down at my plate.

Liam giggles, oblivious. "Mama, can we get ice cream at the mountain?"

"We'll see, sweetheart," Cassandra coos, and reaches across the table to wipe an invisible smudge from his cheek.

I set my fork down carefully, fold my napkin, and place it on the table.

"May I be excused?" I ask no one in particular.

Jaxon doesn't answer. He's already turned back to Liam, listening to the boy describe the butterfly in vivid, delighted detail.

I leave the table without waiting for permission.