4. The Bitter Truth

SERAPHINA

“Seraphina.”

I used to love the way he said my full name—soft, intimate, meant only for me.

But this time, it sounded wrong. 

Nothing like the warmth he used to whisper into my hair.

I shook my head slowly, my voice coming out unsteady before I could stop myself.“W-what… what are you doing?”

Rexton withdrew his hands from Dahlia’s legs and stood up at once.

“I’m just helping her, Sera,” he said quickly. “Her feet are swollen because of the pregnancy—”

“Because of her condition…” I echoed, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

“Her condition!” My chest tightened—not with anger, but with something far more fragile.

I remembered how I learned to endure the ache in silence while carrying his child, telling myself he was busy, that the pack needed him more.

“I didn’t know you did this kind of thing for anyone,” I said quietly, my hands curling at my sides.

“Seraphina—” 

Before I could tell him not to say my name like that, Dahlia did the one thing she knew how to do best. Burst into tears. Her cries once again interrupted my moment with Rexton, but this time, I saw through it. 

“You both are arguing because of me.” She whimpered, feigning worry for me. “It’s all my fault.” 

Obviously. Rexton and I never had these issues until she showed up, crossing every boundary—

“Don’t, Dahlia. You have done nothing wrong.” Rexton stunned me with his opinion, and soon, he turned his hardened gaze to me, blaming me even though he had been hurting me constantly. “Why are you jealous, Sera? You’ve never been like this before.”

The gaslighting was instant. Rexton turned my justified anger into a character flaw. Kia roared ferociously in my mind, but I swallowed it all. The hurt, the rage, and the bitter truth. I swallowed everything, knowing that I wouldn’t win this argument.

Sighing, I spun around and walked away. 

However, I couldn’t escape either of them. Neither did I escape the fresh wave of rumors that began to spread through the pack as the month dragged by. 

The whispers started quietly.

At first, I thought I was imagining them—the way conversations stalled when I entered a room, the way eyes slid past me only to settle somewhere behind my back.

But soon, they weren’t whispering anymore.

“They say Miss Dahlia helped heal warriors at the border.”

“A human, yet blessed.”

“Maybe she’s the goddess’s true descendant.”

I heard it all.

Not once did they lower their voices when speaking of Dahlia. They spoke of her openly, reverently—as if she were something precious the pack had uncovered by fate itself.

And me?

The same mouths that once called me cursed now barely spoke my name at all.

When they did, it was always followed by silence.

I stood among them, smiling when required and nodding when expected, while something inside me slowly withered. I told myself Rexton hadn’t forgotten me. That he was simply busy. 

That this—whatever this was—would pass.

Until one afternoon, as I walked past the council chamber, his voice stopped me cold.

“…the Luna,” an Elder was saying, his tone stripped of all reverence, “but Seraphina’s scent has always been… unnatural.”

I froze.

My feet rooted to the stone floor, my breath catching painfully in my chest.

“Rare,” another Elder corrected slowly. “Too rare. The night her daughter was born, the skies turned red. The wind howled like a warning. Those were not blessings.”

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

“That child was born under an ill omen,” a third voice said, sharper this time. “A blood moon, collapsing wards, restless wolves for weeks afterward. We have records—every great disaster in our history was preceded by signs like these.”

Silence followed. Heavy.

“And Seraphina herself,” someone continued, lower now, more cautious, “has always carried an aura that unsettles the pack. Perhaps the child is merely… the consequence.”

“A threat,” another Elder said plainly.

My vision blurred.

They had already judged me. About Celeste.

“If left unchecked,” the first Elder concluded, “that bloodline could bring ruin to us all.”

I didn’t move closer. I didn’t press my ear to the door. I was suddenly afraid that if I heard more, it would unravel something I wasn’t ready to face.

So I walked away.

At night, I lay awake long after the candles burned low, staring at the ceiling and wondering when my life had become something I merely endured.

I needed Rexton.

I needed him to come back and prove—if only silently—that he hadn’t listened to those words. That he was still on my side.

“Do you think he’s planning another coronation?” I whispered into the darkness.

Kia stirred uneasily within me. “I don’t know, Sera. But something is changing.”

Her uncertainty mirrored my own.

Fortunately, sleep eventually claimed me—but it didn’t last.

A sharp cry pierced the night, slicing through my chest before it reached my ears.

Celeste.

I was on my feet instantly, rushing to the nursery.

 “Mama’s here,” I murmured, trying to soothe her without lifting her, desperate to get her back to sleep.

She only cried harder.

When I finally gathered her into my arms, dread seized me. Her skin was burning. Too hot. Far too hot.

Panic swallowed reason.

I ran.

The pack hospital loomed ahead—but the doors were shut, with guards stationed outside like sentinels.

“My daughter needs a doctor,” I pleaded, clutching Celeste tighter as she wailed.

But the guard wouldn’t meet my eyes. “All healers have been summoned.”

“Summoned where?”

“To Lady Dahlia.”

His words struck like a physical blow.

“She went into premature labor,” he added quickly, as if that justified everything. “The Alpha ordered all doctors to attend her.”

My knees nearly buckled.

Celeste screamed in my arms, her tiny body trembling, while somewhere inside those walls, every healer tended to another woman’s pain.

I wanted to scream. To demand Rexton. To remind them that my child mattered too.

But instinct overruled pride.

Before I knew it, I turned and ran again, but this time, toward my parents’ home.

When my mother appeared at the gates, I poured everything out between broken breaths.

She didn’t hesitate, spatting coldly, “Why would I help you? You couldn’t even give him a son.”

The gate slammed shut before I could speak again.

That was the moment I understood that there was no one coming to save us.

Back at the Alpha mansion, I did everything I could. Cold cloths. Whispered prayers. Holding Celeste against my chest until my arms trembled.

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t afford to.

Dawn finally broke when her cries weakened, her fever easing just enough for hope to breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair, my body shaking from exhaustion. “Mama’s so sorry.”

She slept.

That was when I perceived him.

“They’re back,” Kia growled ferociously.

I laid Celeste down gently, closed the door, and followed the voices down the corridor—every step heavy with something I couldn’t yet name.

I was ready to fight.

But I wasn’t ready to hear Dahlia’s voice drift through the door ahead of me.

“I labored all night to give you a son, Rexton,” she said softly. “The least you can do is let the pack know he’s your heir.”

Time stopped.

For one fragile second, I hoped—stupidly—that he would deny it.

“I’ll arrange it,” Rexton replied. “Thank you for risking your life to give me a son.”

Something inside my chest went quiet.

Not shattered.

Just gone.

I turned away without a sound, one hand pressed to my aching heart, the other already reaching for the only thing I had left—Celeste.

And I would leave.

No matter what it costs.