Chapter 02

Adeline's POV

The sight of my boys sleeping should’ve calmed me. Instead, it ignited a burning desire to keep them safe. The only place that could offer such promise was at Matthias's place. He was the only friend I had who understood just how important it was for me that the boys were totally safe.

I kissed Caleb’s forehead, tucked Elijah’s blanket tight, then turned away with a burning fire in my chest. Because whenever I thought of revenge, all I saw was Vincent's face.

Matthias hugged me at the door. “No one will find them,” he said, promising to keep them quiet and hidden, should any patrols come sniffing around.

I nodded and slipped into the fog.

My hood was low, my face hidden. My wolf is still restless, snarling at the scent of him in the air. The man who once vowed to die for me now stood on a golden pedestal.

My fingers trembled as I adjusted the strap of my satchel. Every second that passed in this cursed territory made my blood boil. I wasn’t just a healer today, I was a woman on a mission. A ghost in the tribe that tried to erase me.

The path narrowed as I reached the center of the Black Moon tribe.

My breath caught, my attention quickly drawn to the people gathered at the palace square.

Vincent stood above the crowd, highly exalted as the king he is.

His Majesty "The King Of France"

Raised high on the central platform, his voice echoed with the ease of a leader long embraced by his people. There he was—tall, striking, flanked by warriors and nobles, with an elegant woman at his side. Her arm was laced through his. Her posture is proud, her smile radiant.

My nails bit into my palms.

Eve, my wolf, let out a low, feral growl inside me.

“ He betrayed us. He left us bleeding, pregnant, alone. He killed everyone, burnt everything. And now he stands there like a god”.

I forced myself to breathe.

The woman beside him beamed as the crowd applauded. She had the face of someone who knew she was the chosen one. Vincent leaned toward her, whispering something that made her laugh.

I remembered how Vincent used to look into my eyes, whispering sweet nothings that made me believe I was the only one. I’d laugh, weightless in his arms, thinking every wound I carried had finally healed.

 But I was a fool—because behind every word was a lie. He took my heart and crushed it without mercy. And now, another woman stood by his side, wearing the same dazzled smile I once wore… right before he destroyed me.

I looked away, bile rising in my throat.

My feet moved before I knew it—past the vendors, past the warriors, past the cheering crowd, I had just one thought in my head.

 “End him”.

I didn't realize how close I’d gotten until I felt the guard’s eyes flick toward me.

Then I turned quickly.

Don’t be reckless, I warned myself. Not yet. Let him smile a little longer—let him think he’s safe. Soon, he’d bleed for every lie, every touch, every promise he broke and the lives of all my people.

That’s when I felt it—a tug at my hand.

A small, unexpected, fragile sensation.

I spun around.

A little girl, pale and sweaty, stood at my side. Her big hazel eyes wide and glassy—blinked up at me, framed by damp lashes. Loose chestnut curls clung to her flushed cheeks.

Her button nose crinkled slightly as she sniffled, her skin soft and fair. A faint dimple appeared when her trembling lips wobbled.

"Miss…" she whimpered, tugging lightly at the hem of my sleeve with her small fingers, almost as if seeking comfort. Her voice was soft, timid, and impossibly sweet.

 "I don’t feel good."

Immediately I dropped to my knees.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, gently brushing her damp curls away from her forehead. Her skin was clammy, and when I touched her wrist, her pulse fluttered quick and frantic beneath my fingers.

Her small hand pressed against her round little belly. "It hurts," she pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. "My head… it’s spinny."

Low blood sugar… I murmured, my healer’s instincts kicking in.

I pulled open my satchel and retrieved a small piece of wrapped candy. I placed it gently into her palm, her fingers curling weakly around it.

"Here," I said, keeping my tone steady and warm. "Unwrap it and eat slowly. You’ll feel better soon."

She fiddled clumsily with the wrapper, her brows wrinkling in concentration.

 "Can you… help?" she asked softly, holding it up to me with both hands.

I smiled faintly and unwrapped it for her, placing it in her mouth.

After a few moments, her breathing steadied, and the tension in her tiny shoulders eased. Color crept back into her cheeks, and her hazel eyes, now brighter, locked on mine with a shy, playful flutter of lashes.

Then she smiled, small and impossibly sweet. She tilted her head and leaned closer, almost playful.

"I like you," she said softly, her voice lilting in a melodic tone. "You’re… nice."

The words, paired with that shy smile and the way she clung lightly to my sleeve, made my heart ache in ways I couldn’t explain.

Her face. Those eyes. That smile.

A strange warmth surged through me, tangled with aching familiarity. My lips parted, but no words came.

"What's your name?" I finally asked, my voice unsteady.

But before she could answer, the crowd around us shifted, parting sharply as if to make way for someone important.

The sound of guards with heavy boots. Angry voices and steel slicing through silence that had suddenly filled the place.

"Step away from the Alpha’s daughter!" a voice barked.

I turned sharply, shielding the girl instinctively. Five guards stormed toward us, their weapons drawn, eyes sharp with suspicion. The people around us shrank back quickly. Fear plastered across their faces.

The little girl whimpered. "Wait! She helped me….!"

I held up my hands. "She was unwell—she nearly fainted. I just…"

But I was too late, my words falling on deaf ears.

Rough hands slammed me to the ground. My knees hit stone hard, scraping raw. Before I could catch my breath, a boot dug into my spine, grinding me down like I was nothing.

I cried out, fury and panic flooding me. Eve snarled, demanding to surface.

"Let me go! I didn’t harm her!"

The little girl wriggled free from the circle of guards and ran toward me, her tiny legs stumbling but determined.

"Stop it!" she cried, her voice high and trembling. "She didn’t do nothing’! She just gave me candy! My tummy hurt and she made it better!”

There was a moment of hesitation.

The guards darted their eyes to me and then back to the little girl.

The pressure on my back lifted. I was yanked to my feet, my cloak slanted, the satchel half-spilled across the cobblestones.

The lead guard sneered. "You’re lucky the Alpha’s daughter is so forgiving, next time it will not be this easy. Watch yourself, healer."

My heart was still hammering. My hands trembling. I knelt quickly to gather the crushed herbs and bottles from the ground.

The girl turned to leave, but paused. She glanced over her shoulder at me. Her eyes were wide, honest.

"What’s your name?"

I stared at her. So small, so fragile. Yet the way she stood reminded me of another girl. The one I never got to name.

My throat burned.

"Adeline," I whispered.

She smiled. "I hope to see you again. Thanks for the candy," she said, her small voice warm and hopeful.

And then she was gone. Swallowed by the crowd. Taken back to the palace that had once been promised to me.

I stood there, frozen, my palms full of crushed leaves and broken glass. The guards moved away. The square resumed its rhythm.

But I remained.

An old pain stirred in my chest.

She could have been mine. That girl, with her warm smile and amber-colored eyes.

If fate had been fair… if betrayal hadn’t torn everything apart.

Maybe I’d still know peace and the comfort of a loving family.

But fate had failed me. And whatever peace I once knew was long dead.

I crushed the herbs in my fist, their scent sharp against the heat rising in my chest.

Tears welled, scorching behind my eyes like fire. I was not grieving but it was rage.

It wasn’t just anger anymore—it had settled deep, like a wound that never closed. A quiet thing, waiting just beneath the surface, sharpening itself in the silence.

And I’d come to understand something no one warns you about—rage doesn’t fade like grief. It lingers. And when it finally strikes, it strikes harder.