Se connecterSerah’s POVThe dungeon door clanged shut behind me with a sound like finality. They hadn’t even bothered to chain me this time, just shoved me inside and left. I landed on my knees in the straw, dust puffing up around me. The place smelled of the usual damp stone, old blood, and faintly sour. I looked around at the familiar bars, the narrow slit of window high up that let in thin gray light, and a small, tired smile tugged at my lips.“Looks like home again,” I whispered to myself. The words tasted bitter, but they were true in a twisted way. This place had seen me at my lowest, chained, bleeding, and begging. Yet here I was again, breathing, and fighting. I pushed to my feet and brushed straw from my skirt, but the real truth is... I can’t stay here long. Not with my son upstairs in their hands, after what happened today, trusting Mirabel around my child will be my last thought.She’d lied so easily in front of the whole hall. How could I be sure she wasn’t hurting him right now? An
Tristan’s POVThe chamber glowed soft red from the low lanterns hanging on iron chains as I sat in my chamber with my legs stretched out, the heavy goblet of blood resting easily in my hand. The room was warm from the low fire, and the soft sounds of laughter and moans filled the air. Two of my people, a young couple, were tangled together on the cushions across from me.She had her head slid back a bit, eyes half-closed, while he kissed slow trails down her neck, leaving dark hickeys that bloomed like flowers under his lips. Their hands moved lazily over each other, clothes half-undone, bodies pressing closer with every breath. It was intimate, unhurried, the kind of display meant to remind everyone here that we lived free of the rules that choked the palace or other packs. I watched them and sip from my goblet now, then letting the scene wash over me like background music.The blood tasted rich tonight, warm, fresh, laced with just enough spice to take the edge off my thoughts. But
Serah's POVI knelt by the stone basin in the servants' yard, scrubbing my baby's tiny clothes with numb fingers. The water was cold, turning my hands red from the tiny clothes I scrubbed. My son's little shirts and soft wraps floated in the suds, so small they barely covered my palm. I worked the soap into the fabric with slow circles, trying to focus on the rhythm, but my mind kept drifting back to the border.Tristan's mouth on mine. The way he tasted, cool and wild, like night air after rain. The kiss had been slow at first, careful, then deeper, hungrier. I could still feel the gentle press of his lips, the soft scrape of his teeth, the way his hand cupped the back of my neck like I might disappear if he let go. Heat climbed up my cheeks just thinking about it. I smiled without meaning to, small and secret.I shook my head hard. "Stop it," I muttered to myself. "You can't have him. If you let this grow, everything they whisper will become truth. They’ll say you really are the adu
Lydia's POVI stormed down the corridor, cheeks still burning from the slap I'd given myself in my own mind a dozen times over. The baby's laugh echoed in my ears like a taunt, and my skin felt sticky with my own blood that he'd spat back at me. My fists were clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms. Then I saw Jethro leaning against the stone archway, arms folded, watching me with that quiet intensity he always wore when something was wrong.He stepped into my path, blocking the way. "Lydia, what happened?"I didn't answer with words. I grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him close, and crushed my mouth to his. The kiss was messy, desperate, all teeth and tongue. He tasted like the wine I'd spilled earlier, and I needed every bit of it right now.He groaned low against my lips, hands sliding down my waist to grip my hips hard enough to bruise, and the hands slid down to grip my ass. We stumbled backward together, lips never breaking, until we crashed through the door of his pr
~Lydia POV~I stood at the end of the long corridor with a goblet of red wine in my hand, swirling it slowly, so the liquid caught the torchlight and turned almost black. Then I took a slow sip, letting the warmth slide down my throat.The palace felt quieter than usual tonight, like everyone was holding their breath after the mess in the hall earlier. I needed this moment. I mean something smooth and sharp to wash away the taste of Jethro's anger and Serah's defiance. But guess I can't escape that because I just saw her.Serah walked toward the arched doorway at the opposite end, cradling her baby close to her chest. The child’s small head rested against her shoulder, dark hair soft against her gray dress. She moved carefully, like she was trying not to disturb the quiet that had settled over the palace since the council whispers started.She looked tired, but there was a stubborn set to her jaw that made my blood heat up all over again. I set the goblet on the narrow windowsill and
~Serah's POV~Tristan moved right up to Jethro, standing tall, his eyes locked on the alpha like he was daring him to blink first. His voice came out low, but it carried through the whole hall, sharp and poisonous. "How does it feel, Jethro? Seeing your wife defend another man? Bowing to him instead of you, right in front of your whole court."Jethro's whole body went rigid. His jaw clenched so tight that I thought I heard teeth grind. "You will regret this," he said to Tristan. The words were slow and threatening. Then he turned to me, eyes burning with anger mixed with betrayal, maybe, or just pure hate he had for me. "For this, Serah, let it be known that your child will not be named. He will be nameless!"The air sucked out of the room, and my stomach dropped like I'd been punched so bad! Nameless? The word echoed in my head, heavy and cruel. Everyone was frozen, including the guards, servants, even Lydia looked shocked for half a second before her lips curled up again. Tristan le







