Joy Natividad

On the day I was due to give birth to my twins, I bought up every dose of moonsleep suppressant in the healing den and forced my labor to stop. I endured the pain until the next day, just to watch my Alpha mate, Damien Thorne, stand before the entire Black Moon Pack and declare that Victoria Hale—the tenth mistress he had brought in to bear him an heir—had given birth first. Her child, he announced, would be the future heir of Black Moon. Only then did I finally breathe out and let my own twins come into the world. In my past life, Damien had been told he was unlikely to ever produce an heir of strong blood. Desperate to secure a successor, he brought one she-wolf after another into our pack and declared that whichever woman gave birth first, her child would inherit everything. But he promised me this: if I delivered first, he would send every last mistress away, and my children would be the only heirs of Black Moon. I believed him. So when I found out I was carrying twins, I thought the Moon Goddess had finally shown me mercy. But on the day I went into labor, what greeted me was not joy, but Damien’s rage. To protect Victoria and her pup’s claim, he forced my labor to stop and left my twins to die inside me, little by little. Then he dragged me to kneel before Victoria’s grave and smashed my head against the stone until blood covered my face. “Victoria had nothing,” he snarled. “I only wanted her child to become heir, so no one in this pack would ever dare look down on them.” “But you couldn’t even give her that. She died in labor. Her child died with her. You should pay for both their lives.” I was beaten to death before her grave. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my twins were due. This time, I would not fight him. I would give Damien exactly what he wanted—the perfect family of three.

Alpha Ethan's first love, Sarah, died unexpectedly just days before their marking ceremony. His grief was so profound, it sent shockwaves through the entire Duskrend pack. I spent my youth walking beside him, helping him crawl out of that darkness. And finally, when he was ready to love again, he chose to mark me. In the first two years after he marked me, I got pregnant twice. Both times ended in miscarriage. Ethan, heart aching, told me he couldn't bear to see me suffer through childbirth again. That he didn't want me to endure that kind of pain anymore. But in the third year, I conceived again. On the way to see the pack healer for a routine checkup, I was attacked by a wild beast. My wolf, desperate to protect me, burned through most of her life force holding the creature off. Ethan arrived just in time and carried me to the pack hospital himself. But the healer shook his head. We had lost too much time. The pup couldn't be saved. Worse, my ability to bear pups would be permanently damaged because my wolf was too injured to ever carry life again. My mother clung to me, sobbing. Ethan stood in the corner and smiled. "Joy just can't have pups anymore," he said. "But Sarah—Sarah lost her life because of people like you." Then he looked at my mother, his voice edged with contempt. "You were the one who forced Sarah to abort. You watched her—an Omega without a wolf—scream herself to death. So now, your daughter shall feel that pain too." Five years after severing our mate bond, Ethan had become the most powerful Lycan Chairman the region had ever seen—courted, admired, endlessly celebrated. And me? I was working at an underground club. I was dressed in scraps of fabric, smiling until my cheeks ached, bowing and pouring drinks for whoever walked into the VIP room. There shouldn't have been any reason for our paths to cross again. But Ethan held me tight, eyes red and refusing to let go— “Say it,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Call me your mate.”