6. A Kiss of Love

SERAPHINA

I forced a messy, painful shift, the golden wolf emerging once more.

With Kia’s energy completely drained, I shifted back into my human form the moment I crossed the border.

Cold. Naked. Shaking.

All I wanted was Celeste.

But the moment I stepped into the main hall, the air turned lethal.

“Where,” Rexton’s voice thundered, “have you been?”

I barely looked at him. I just kept walking.

I found Celeste in the nursery, and the second I held her, my chest loosened—just a little.

“Put her down,” Rexton said coldly behind me.

I froze.

“Arlo is sick,” he continued. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

 "What does that have to do with me?" I ignored him.

Rexton looked hesitant. "They said," he paused.“The boy carries an omen of the next Alpha. But his spirit is fractured. To heal him, he requires a blessing from both Alpha and Luna.”

He turned to me, his eyes desperate but hard. "You will do this, Seraphina. For the sake of the pack."

I stared at him. For a heartbeat, I almost laughed.

I was the Luna—crowned in name, summoned to clean up the consequences of his betrayal.

My fingers curled at my side, nails biting into my palms, but I lifted my chin anyway.

Because that was what a Luna did.

I had no choice. I followed them into the nursery, my heart heavy. 

******

Dahlia sat by the cradle, her face pale with grief. 

I stopped a careful distance away.

As Luna, I could not touch the child until the ritual was acknowledged. That much was tradition.

I lifted my hands slowly, palms open, letting the faint glow of lunar energy gather at my fingertips. The room fell quiet.

“By the Goddess,” I began, my voice steady despite the weight in my chest, “I ask for clarity, for wholeness, and for the mending of what has been fractured.”

I took one step closer to the cradle, careful.

That was when Dahlia moved.

“Please,” she choked suddenly, surging to her feet. “Let me hold him while you do it. He’s frightened—he needs his mother.”

Before I could answer, before I could even process the breach of ritual, her hand shot out.

She grabbed my wrist.

Hard.

The force yanked me forward, throwing my balance off just as her other arm swept Arlo from the silk cushions.

“No!” Dahlia screamed.

For one frozen second, Arlo was suspended between us.

Then Dahlia let go.

Instinct took over. I lunged, my fingers brushing the edge of his swaddling, heart slamming into my throat—

Too late.

He hit the plush rug with a soft, sickening thud.

The room erupted.

“You dropped him!” Dahlia wailed, collapsing to the floor as if her legs had given out, gathering the crying infant into her arms.

Rexton walked in just in time, and she screamed, "Rexton! She tried to kill our son.”

I stood paralyzed, hands still reaching for empty air. "I... she pulled me..."

Rexton’s face contorted, his growl vibrating through the floorboards. "Seraphina! How dare you!"

"I... I didn't..." I whispered, “You were standing right here,” I said calmly, turning slightly, my gaze locking onto Dahlia. “You grabbed my wrist and violated the ritual.”

A murmur rippled through the room.

Rexton’s eyes flickered with doubt as his gaze shifted to Dahlia.

“She’s lying!” she cried."How could I possibly harm my own child?"

“Oh no. This is bad.” She blurted, her voice like dry leaves. She leaned closer to Dahlia, her hands hovering over Arlo. “The fall has worsened his condition.” 

Rexton’s jaw tightened. “Save him, Healer.”

Healer?  

A figure stepped forward from the edge of the room.

I hadn’t even noticed her before—thin, hunched, wrapped in layers of dark fabric that looked far too heavy for the season. 

Her scent was too dark, too rotten for a Healer.

A chill ran down my spine as she spoke, her soulless eyes slowly landing on me. “Mere blessings can’t save his fractured soul now. Not anymore.”

“Then what do we do?” Dahlia sobbed, clutching Arlo to her chest.

Although I did nothing wrong, I wanted nothing more than to make sure the child would be better. He was, after all, innocent.

But when the dark Healer spoke again, I was struck with the need to protect my own rather than Arlo. 

“A blood transfusion ritual.” The dark Healer began, almost innocently, until she added, “Blood from a close relative. The firstborn of the family is a perfect fit. Her blood is the only threat strong enough to stitch his—”

“No…” I gasped, the word escaping me before she could finish speaking. 

Even before I could think. 

My wet eyes cut to Rexton. “You can’t let her touch Celeste. S-she is only two months old, and she is still recovering from t-that f-fever…”

“You should have thought of that before you dropped the child out of jealousy!” Rexton spat, his voice hitting me like rocks. 

“You owe this to Arlo.” He added, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous whisper. “You have to—”

"I didn't!” I tried to tell my truth again. “I swear by the goddess, Rexton. She pulled me—"

“Enough!” Rexton snapped, cutting me off. “You’re to be crowned Luna, but you fail to think about the pack’s well-being. If my heir dies because of your spite, we’re all doomed.”

“B-but Celeste is your c-child too. She’s just as important.” I uttered, my voice cracking.

“We only need her to donate just a little blood. It won’t hurt her, Sera.” Rexton said, taking a step towards me. 

He tried to soften his voice and expression, but his eyes were still dark with dominance. “Do this. Save Arlo, and I’ll marry you immediately. Tomorrow, I’ll give you the grandest coronation ceremony.”

I stared at him, the man who thought a stupid ceremony could convince me to put my daughter in danger. I looked at the dark healer, who gazed back at me with the hope that I would break. 

Then, at Dahlia, who had stopped wailing and wore a devilish smirk behind Rexton.

Realization didn’t just sink in. It kicked rage and determination into my core.

I was done. 

 “I will never,” I said, my voice steady now, colder than ice. “I did nothing to your son, and you will not touch a single hair on my daughter’s head.”

The room fell deathly still.

For a moment—just a moment—I thought Rexton might hesitate.

Then his gaze hardened and turned sharply toward the door.

“Guards.”

“Rexton—don’t,” I warned, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Two unfamiliar wolves stepped inside.

“Confine her,” he ordered, his voice stripped of all warmth. “She is not to leave her room until the ritual is complete.”

“You can’t do this!” I screamed, lunging toward the cradle.

But he was faster.

I watched in horror as he lifted Celeste from the bed, her startled cry slicing straight through my chest.

“She’ll be returned once Arlo is stabilized,” he said without looking back.

The door slammed shut.

The lock clicked.

"Rexton!" I howled, but only the empty walls answered.

And just like that—

I was a prisoner.

And my daughter was about to be sacrificed.