FROM THE BACK

MABEL

I cried the entire way back to the house.

The carriage ride felt like a blur of dark trees and bitter, burning tears. My chest heaved with deep, jagged sobs that I couldn't hold back, no matter how hard I bit down on my lip. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Samson pinning Aisha against that terrace wall, sucking her breasts, driving his hips into her with a raw, desperate passion he had never once offered me.

Samson returned a few hours later. I heard the roar of his sports car pulling into the gravel driveway, followed by his heavy, deliberate footsteps echoing down the marble hallway.

And, like always, he didn't care about me. He didn't come to check on me. He didn't ask where I had disappeared to after chasing him down. He walked straight past my bedroom door without pausing for even a fraction of a second, locking himself inside his private study as if I didn't exist.

I lay in my bed in absolute pain, staring blankly up at the dark ceiling. The humiliation was like a heavy stone pressing down on my ribs, suffocating me. But as the hours dragged on, the raw, blinding pain slowly began to curdle into something colder, sharper, and far more dangerous.

I started plotting my next move.

I must kill Samson, I whispered to the empty, quiet room, my eyes narrowing in the darkness. He thinks he is going to let me give birth, run a secret DNA test, and then publicly disgrace me in front of the High Council? He thinks he is going to throw me out like trash and marry that white wolf whore? He will die before he ever gets the chance.

I placed my hands gently over my lower stomach, feeling the tiny bump under my nightgown. I had to find out who the man sleeping with me actually was. And I was going to keep his child. I would protect this baby with my life. Once Samson was dead and buried, I would use all the Blue Wing wealth to make this servant rich, raise my child as the rightful Alpha heir, and somehow place him on the throne.

I refused to see this revelation as a heartbreaking defeat. I refused to lay here and rot like a victim. In fact, as I took a long, shaky breath, I even thanked the Goddess of the Moon for letting me stand behind that stone pillar today. If she hadn't let me hear Samson's cruel confession with my own ears, I would have walked blindly into his trap, handing him my head on a platter after giving birth. Now, I knew the game. Now, I had the upper hand.

Late that night, around two in the morning, the heavy bedroom door clicked open without a sound.

A tall, dark figure slipped inside, moving through the shadows like a ghost. Just as Samson had described, the man didn't turn on a single lamp. He was completely silent, his face obscured by the deep hood of his dark tunic.

He walked over to the side of my bed, reaching down to pull back the silk duvet, preparing to strip off his trousers to perform his assigned duty.

"I'm not feeling fine tonight," I said softly, keeping my voice flat and small as I pulled the sheet up over my chest.

The figure froze for a brief second. He didn't say a single word. He didn't ask what was wrong with me. He didn't ask if I needed the pack doctor or if the baby was safe. He simply turned around on his heel, preparing to leave the room just as silently as he had entered.

Panic flared in my chest. Wait!

The moment it crossed my mind, I realized I had to play along. Samson was a deeply dangerous man—far more ruthless, deceptive, and unpredictable than Damian could ever dream of being. If this servant went back and reported that I had turned him away, Samson might realize I was onto something. He might suspect that I knew the truth, and he would eliminate me before my belly even got any bigger.

"Wait," I called out quickly, my voice shifting into a soft, inviting purr. "Don't go. Come back here."

The hooded man paused by the door, turning his head slightly in the dark.

I sat up on the edge of the mattress, letting my sheer nightgown slide off one shoulder. "Come here," I whispered, beckoning him closer with my finger.

He walked slowly back to the side of the bed. Before he could move to pull down my gown, I dropped gracefully to my knees on the soft rug right in front of him.

I reached out with trembling hands, unbuckling his rough leather belt. My fingers brushed against the coarse fabric of his trousers as I pulled them down, exposing his hard, thick shaft. He was already fully erect, throbbing softly in the cool night air.

I leaned forward and began to suck the dark guy's dick.

I took the warm, thick cap deep into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip, dragging my lips up and down his length with exaggerated care. I cupped his heavy balls in my palm, rolling them gently between my fingers, playing with his tips while giving him the performance of his life.

While my mouth was busy wrapping around his shaft, I reached my hands up toward his upper body. I began to stroke his broad chest, sliding my palms up over his shoulders until my fingertips reached his face. I stroked his cheeks, his jawline, and the rough stubble around his chin, desperately trying to feel the bone structure—trying to see if I could figure out who this man was by touch alone.

But his face was partially covered by a dark cloth mask under his hood, leaving only his eyes and mouth bare. He kept his head tilted up, completely stiff, avoiding my touch as much as possible while maintaining his absolute silence. I couldn't tell who he was. He was just a ghost with a thick, hard tool.

I pulled my mouth away with a soft gasp, standing up and stepping onto the bed. I turned my back to him, resting my forearms flat against the pillows, bending over for doggy style.

"Take me from behind," I murmured into the darkness.

The servant didn't hesitate. He stepped up onto the edge of the mattress, gripping my hips with two large, rough, calloused hands. He aligned his thick head with my wet entrance and shoved his entire length deep inside my open, waiting vagina in one heavy, swift stroke.

The stretch was intense, filling me completely. He began to fuck me with fast, steady, rhythmic thrusts, his hips slapping against my bare thighs in the dark room.

While he was fucking me, tears burst from my eyes, streaming down my cheeks and soaking into the silk pillowcase beneath my face. I cried so much—bitter, silent, heartbreaking tears that burned my throat.

I am now reduced to sleeping with a servant, I wept silently in my mind, feeling every hard, mindless push of his body into mine. I was the Luna of Blue Wing, a highborn wolf of noble blood, and here I was, bent over on my knees, getting bred by a nameless, low-ranking shadow warrior who didn't even care enough to ask how I felt. My whole life had become a sick, disgusting joke.

But amidst the humiliation and the hot tears, my heart hardened into pure iron.

I gripped the silk sheets tightly, feeling the rhythm of his thrusts, and swore a silent, lethal vow to the Goddess above.

Enjoy your little victory while it lasts, Samson, I thought, my jaw clenching tight as the servant pushed deep inside me one last time, his warm seed spilling into my core. I promise you will join your father in the grave very soon. And as for Aisha... I will tear that white wolf from her high horse. Before I am done with this pack, she will dance naked all over the territory for everyone to mock.

The servant pulled himself out slowly, pulled up his trousers without a word, and slipped back out into the dark hallway, leaving me alone in the quiet, starlit room.