LOGINAUTHOR'S POV.
Wanda’s heels clicked softly against the polished stone floors as she made her way back to her quarters, her mind simmering with frustration. Daxton had dismissed her. Again. She had expected resistance; Daxton never entertained idle talk, but the way he had so effortlessly ended their conversation left a sour taste in her mouth. She had wanted answers, clarity, anything to make sense of why he had chosen that woman and what he planned to do with her. Instead, she had been brushed aside like an afterthought. She inhaled deeply through her nose, willing herself to remain composed. Lately, she felt like she was always grasping at shadows when it came to Daxton. He was becoming harder to predict, and she despised not knowing his plans. She had spent years by his side, aiding him, supporting him, believing in his vision. And now, he was keeping secrets from her? Her thoughts were interrupted when she spotted a maidservant standing outside her room. The woman straightened immediately and dipped into a polite bow. "Miss Donald." Wanda stopped a few feet away, barely acknowledging the servant’s presence. "Your father is inside," the maid informed her, her voice cautious. "He has been waiting for over five minutes." Wanda’s fingers curled slightly. A sliver of tension ran down her spine. Of course, he was here. Why wouldn’t he? Shutting her eyes briefly, she inhaled deeply, then exhaled in a slow, controlled breath before opening them again. She schooled her features, smoothing away any hint of irritation before finally giving a small nod. The maid opened the door, stepping aside respectfully. Wanda walked in, her posture straight, a practiced, pleasant smile curving her lips. Inside, her father, Ronald Donald, sat in the single chair near the fireplace. His legs were crossed, his hands resting over his knees. The flickering fire cast sharp shadows across his already severe features. His piercing gaze lifted to her the moment she entered. His voice was clipped. "Took you long enough." Wanda’s smile didn’t falter, but inwardly, she clenched her jaw. "I didn’t know you would be waiting for me, Father." She greeted him with a respectful nod before stepping further inside. A short silence followed. Then, without preamble, Ronald asked, "Do you have any idea why Daxton picked that useless nobody to be his wife? “Why would he disgrace himself, his clan, and our entire kind by marrying her?" Wanda remained silent for a beat, carefully choosing her words. Ronald leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes never leaving her. "I want you to sound him out. Find out his reasons and report to me." Wanda hesitated briefly before answering. "Daxton is... tight-lipped about it." Ronald’s expression darkened. "Then find a way to loosen his tongue." She hated when he spoke to her like that, as if her years beside Daxton amounted to nothing. But she held her composure. Ronald leaned back, scrutinizing her. "Does he like her?" he asked after a moment. "I saw how he defended her at the banquet. “And he did not punish her after she disgraced him in front of the Elders. Is he taken with her?" A bitter scoff nearly escaped Wanda’s lips, but she suppressed it. "No," she said firmly. "I know Daxton. He would never fall for someone like her. A cursed, wolfless woman? “She isn’t his type. He would never stoop so low because of love." Ronald raised an eyebrow. "Then why didn’t he marry you?" The words hit Wanda like a knife to the gut. Her lips parted slightly, but she had no immediate answer. She had all the qualities of a strong Luna. She had stood by Daxton’s side for years, aiding him in matters of strategy and governance. She had left her own pack behind to be here, all for him. And yet... he had not chosen her. The sting of that reality burned beneath her skin, but no, she wouldn’t break. She had come too far, given up too much, to let her father see any weakness. "I don’t know," she admitted after a moment, hating the words even as she spoke them. "Daxton has his own way of thinking. He doesn’t explain his choices." Ronald’s expression darkened further. "You have been by his side for years, yet you still can’t tell what he is thinking?" His voice rose slightly, filled with irritation. Wanda instinctively took a step back. Though she carried herself with confidence, though she had spent years navigating political alliances and power plays, her father’s temper was something else entirely. Her fingers curled tightly, nails pressing into her palms. Then, Ronald rose to his feet. His presence was formidable, his movements precise and controlled. But Wanda knew him well enough to sense the fury simmering beneath the surface. "If you can’t get into the heart of a man you have followed for years," he said coldly, "then you are wasting my resources. And you are no different from that cursed deviant he married." A sharp sting shot through Wanda’s chest. She felt insulted, but she couldn't do anything about it. This was her father after all. She dropped her gaze immediately, schooling her features before she could betray any emotion. "I apologize, Father." She kept her voice measured, steady. Ronald studied her for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose. "Make sure you find out why he married her." "Yes, Father." He lingered for a few seconds, his sharp gaze assessing her. Then, just as abruptly as he had risen, he turned and sank back into his chair. The tension in the room settled, but it did not ease. After a brief pause, he shifted topics. "When are you returning to Duskmoor?" "In two days," Wanda answered. Ronald hummed in acknowledgment. Then his expression shifted slightly, a glint of curiosity flashing in his eyes. "I heard there’s been another killing." Wanda nodded. "Yes. And we still don’t know who’s behind it." Ronald leaned forward slightly. "Daxton hasn’t uncovered anything yet?" "No," she admitted. "Every investigation leads to a dead end. There aren’t enough clues to identify the killer." Silence stretched between them. Then, Ronald finally spoke. "Let me know when he gets the answers... or before he does." Wanda nodded. "I will, father." Ronald sat back, seemingly lost in thought. Wanda, however, was already formulating a plan. She would find out why Daxton had chosen Serafina. She would get into his head, even if it meant prying his secrets out one by one. And when the time came, she would remind him that she was the only one truly fit to stand by his side.Serafina’s POV. The moment the doctor left, Madam Rachel turned her sharp gaze on me. "It’s time for breakfast," she announced, her tone leaving no room for argument. I rose from my seat and followed the servants to the small dining area in my room. As I settled into the chair one of them pulled out for me, another carefully draped a napkin over my lap. Their movements were precise, practiced, as if they had done this a thousand times before. The table had already been set, the empty dinner plates from last night replaced with a fresh spread. Various dishes sat before me: golden pancakes, crisp toast, fresh fruit, and a steaming pot of tea. I shut my eyes for a moment, muttering a silent prayer before reaching for a slice of toasted bread. Just as one of the servants stepped forward to serve me, I lifted a hand to stop her. "I can serve myself," I said. The servant hesitated but obeyed, taking several steps back. As I spread a light layer of strawberry jam onto my toa
Serafina’s POV. The warm water slid over my skin, washing away the lingering drowsiness and frustration from my morning. The two maidservants moved around me with practiced precision, their touch light as they helped me bathe. I should have been grateful, I supposed. After all, they were only doing what they were told. But I couldn’t ignore the way their gazes kept flickering, hesitating, toward the mark on my shoulder. The crescent moon. Even without looking, I could feel the weight of their curiosity, the silent questions they didn’t dare voice. It wasn’t their fault. The mark was impossible to miss, standing out starkly against my pale skin, a dark reminder of what I was. Cursed and wolfless. Or rather, what I wasn’t. I swallowed hard and forced myself to stay still, but inside, my stomach twisted. The water did little to soothe the deep-seated ache that came with being seen like this. Exposed. Judged. No one ever saw my skin, not since the mark appeared. I kep
Serafina's POV "Do it. Flip the table. They deserve it." The words echoed through my mind like a lingering whisper, pulling me from the depths of sleep. I inhaled sharply, my body tensing as my eyes fluttered open. My gaze darted across the dimly lit room, my chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. It took me a moment to realize I had been dreaming. A slow exhale slipped past my lips. I pressed my palms against the soft sheets, grounding myself as the hazy remnants of the dream clung to the edges of my mind. But as I sat there, the voice’s words replayed again, dragging me back to the banquet hall, the laughter, the insults, the burning shame of the spilled wine. My fingers curled into the sheets. Had I really been about to flip the table? Would I have actually done it if Daxton hadn’t stopped me? I hesitated before whispering internally, Was that my wolf? The thought sent a ripple of something- hope, fear, uncertainty- through my chest. Tentatively, I t
AUTHOR'S POV. Wanda’s heels clicked softly against the polished stone floors as she made her way back to her quarters, her mind simmering with frustration. Daxton had dismissed her. Again. She had expected resistance; Daxton never entertained idle talk, but the way he had so effortlessly ended their conversation left a sour taste in her mouth. She had wanted answers, clarity, anything to make sense of why he had chosen that woman and what he planned to do with her. Instead, she had been brushed aside like an afterthought. She inhaled deeply through her nose, willing herself to remain composed. Lately, she felt like she was always grasping at shadows when it came to Daxton. He was becoming harder to predict, and she despised not knowing his plans. She had spent years by his side, aiding him, supporting him, believing in his vision. And now, he was keeping secrets from her? Her thoughts were interrupted when she spotted a maidservant standing outside her room. The woman
AUTHOR'S POV. The cold night air bit into the servant’s skin as she walked briskly along the stone corridors, rubbing her arms for warmth. The banquet had ended hours ago, and most of the pack had retired for the night. She was exhausted and looked forward to resting in her quarters. But then, a shadow moved. Before she could react, two guards emerged from the darkness. One grabbed her left arm. The other seized her right. The servant gasped, her body stiffening in shock. "What? What’s happening? What did I do?" The guards said nothing. Fear clawed its way up her throat as they began dragging her down the hallway. She didn’t dare scream. She knew the rules. Making a scene would only make things worse. Still, panic surged through her. "Where are you taking me?" she whispered frantically. "Please! At least tell me." But no matter how many questions she asked, she was met with silence. The guards led her through the back exit of the estate, out into the open training ground
Serafina's POV I turned the corner and found Madam Rachel waiting for me. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions, didn’t even look at me for longer than a second before turning on her heel and starting down the hall. I followed in silence, my pulse still thrumming from my encounter with Daxton and Eli. The journey back to my room was painfully long, hallway after hallway, staircase after staircase. My feet ached with each step, my body screaming from exhaustion. My throat burned with thirst, my stomach churned in hunger, and yet, Madam Rachel moved with the same rigid posture, her steps as sharp and strong as ever. Even at her age, she showed no signs of fatigue. I released a slow breath, coming to yet another miserable realization: I wasn’t built for this world. If I had a wolf, climbing staircases for ten minutes straight wouldn’t feel like I was dragging chains behind me. Daxton’s words clawed at my mind. "Get a wolf first before you think about flipping a table." M
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Serafina Pov.I sat back, my mind restless.I watched the tiny opening disguised as a window above my cot go from thick black to the atmosphere changing slowly, soon it was dawn.My worst fear is coming to reality.I was going to walk into that study and I was going to see him and I didn't know I w







