I failed you

The elders did not wait.

They rose from their seats as one, robes whispering against stone, faces already arranged into something formal and final.

One of them stepped forward.

“By pack law,” he said, voice carrying through the hall, “the Alpha will not stand alone during burial rites.”

I lifted my head slowly.

“What does that mean,” I asked.

The elder did not look at me.

“Given Luna Selene’s background as a healer’s daughter,” he continued, “and her current emotional instability, she will not be suitable to stand at the Alpha’s side during the rites.”

The room seemed to tilt.

“What,” I said.

Another elder spoke. “Marisol will fulfill that role.”

The words slammed into my chest.

“No,” I said immediately. “That will not happen.”

Marisol stepped forward then, calm, composed, her hand slipping easily around Dorian’s arm as if it had always belonged there.

She did not look at me.

I took a step forward. “You will not replace me beside my son.”

“Enough,” the first elder snapped.

I turned toward him. “He is my child.”

Two guards moved before I could take another breath.

Strong hands seized my arms.

“Do not touch me,” I said sharply.

The elder raised his hand.

“Silence,” he ordered. “You have embarrassed this pack enough.”

I struggled against the guards. “You will not parade her in my place.”

Dorian did not move.

I looked at him then.

Really looked.

“Dorian,” I said. “Are you allowing this.”

He did not answer.

His gaze slid away from mine, fixed somewhere over my shoulder, like I was already gone.

Something broke inside my chest.

Marisol leaned into him, her fingers tightening around his arm. “This is necessary,” she said softly.

I laughed. The sound was cracked and ugly. “Necessary.”

The elder nodded. “You will be confined to your chambers until the rites are complete.”

“What,” I said.

“You will not disgrace us further with uncontrolled emotion.”

Uncontrolled.

My breath shook. “You are locking me away while you bury my child.”

“Yes,” the elder replied calmly.

He turned to the guards. “Take her.”

“No,” I screamed.

They dragged me toward the doors.

“Rowen,” I cried. “Rowen.”

My voice echoed through the hall.

Dorian did not look back.

Marisol did.

She watched me with quiet satisfaction.

The guards hauled me down the corridor. My feet barely touched the floor. My voice tore itself raw as I screamed his name again and again until my throat burned.

They stopped in front of my room.

The door opened.

I was shoved inside.

I hit the floor hard, the impact rattling through my bones.

The door slammed shut behind me.

The lock turned.

Silence crashed over me.

I lay there, staring at the stone floor, my chest heaving.

Then I laughed.

A bitter, broken sound.

“So this is what I am reduced to,” I said aloud. “This is it.”

My hands shook as I slammed them into the floor.

“Look at you,” I whispered. “Look at what you agreed to.”

The room blurred.

And then the memory came.

Clear. Sharp. Merciless.

“Stand straight, Selene.”

My father’s voice cut through the past like a blade.

I saw myself stiffen instantly, fingers tightening at my sides as servants froze around me.

“Yes, Father.”

He stood before me, gaze cold, measuring my ceremonial dress like I was an offering.

“Do not embarrass me today,” he said quietly. “This bond is a privilege.”

Privilege.

I laughed bitterly in the present.

“You believed him,” I whispered. “You believed them all.”

The memory continued without mercy.

The pack house. The candles. The silence.

Dorian standing at the center of the hall, dressed in black, power radiating from him without effort.

I remembered the heat under my skin. The bond snapping tight. The way it stole my breath.

He turned.

Gray eyes met mine.

Cold. Empty.

“This was your mate,” I whispered to myself. “This was always him.”

“Step forward,” he had said.

And I did.

Because I was raised to obey.

Because I was taught endurance was virtue.

Because I thought patience would soften him.

Fool.

I pressed my palm to the floor, sobbing now.

“He looked at you like nothing,” I said aloud. “And you still stayed.”

I remembered Marisol standing behind him.

Close.

Chosen.

The maid’s whisper. The word that shattered me before I even understood it.

Chosen.

Before me.

“You saw it,” I whispered. “You saw it that day.”

The memory twisted deeper.

“You are tethered to me,” Dorian’s voice echoed in my mind. “But do not mistake that for importance.”

My chest heaved.

“You heard him,” I sobbed. “And you still said yes.”

I remembered kneeling.

“I bind my life to the Alpha’s will.”

I slammed my fist into the floor.

“Idiot,” I screamed. “Stupid, blind idiot.”

Tears streamed down my face.

“He told you,” I said through sobs. “He told you this bond was control.”

The memory ended where it always did.

“Welcome to your future.”

I curled into myself, shaking.

“This is the future,” I whispered. “A room. A lock. A dead child.”

My wolf stirred beneath my skin.

Furious.

“She trusted you,” I whispered to myself. “She trusted that bond.”

I pressed my forehead to the floor.

“I should have walked away,” I sobbed. “I should have refused.”

The mate mark burned.

Not with longing.

With rage.

“I gave him everything,” I whispered. “And he gave my son nothing.”

I screamed then.

Not Rowen’s name.

My own.

A raw, broken sound tearing out of me as grief and regret crashed together.

“I failed you,” I whispered into the stone. “I failed you, my love.”