Chapter 2
778words
"I was thinking about Liam." My voice trembled, just enough. "He's still in that dungeon, and I can't do anything."
Byron's suspicion eased. He walked toward me, that familiar, "loving" look on his handsome face.
"Pup, I know this is hard." He reached out to touch my cheek. "But you have to trust me. I'm working on it."
Working on it?
Working on a way for my brother to die in that cell?
I didn't pull away from his touch, even though his fingers on my skin made my stomach churn.
"Byron, tell me the truth." I looked up at him, my eyes full of faked desperation. "Was it really an accident? Did Ariana really just lose control?"
His eyes flickered. It was tiny, but I saw it.
"Of course it was an accident." His hand slid to the back of my neck, his voice softening. "Sandra, you can't let your grief cloud your judgment. Ariana is your best friend. Why would she ever deliberately—"
"Then why are the elders protecting her?" I cut him off. "Why won't they investigate?"
Byron sighed, his face a mask of pained responsibility.
"Because her family's backing is too strong. Her grandfather is the Northern Alpha King." He pulled me into his arms. "If I make a move against her now, the entire Northern Alliance will turn on us. The Blackwood Pack will be isolated. We could face a war."
Such a perfect lie.
Such a convincing performance.
If I didn't know the truth, I might have actually fallen for it.
"So you want me to forgive her?" My voice shook, hiding my rage. "Forgive the woman who killed our child?"
"Pup—"
"She killed your heir!" I shoved him away, my voice rising. "That was our pup, Byron! Your heir! Your own flesh and blood!"
His face went white. His golden eyes shattered with pain.
"You think I don't feel this?" His voice was raw. He seized my hand, fingers digging into my skin until I winced.
"That was my blood! My heir! Every part of me wants to tear her to shreds! But my duty... I'm the Alpha. I can't."
The raw emotion cracked his composure, but he forced it back, locking it away. The mask of the grieving Alpha fell back into place.
"The pack comes first. Always," he stated. "And sometimes... that means we sacrifice."
Sacrifices.
He said it so easily.
"Sacrifice what?" I stared at him. "Our child? My brother's freedom? My dignity as your Luna?"
"For the future of the pack," he said, his voice laced with an Alpha's command. "Sandra, you are my mate. I need you on my side."
On his side.
Like I had been for the last three years.
Trusting him, supporting him, giving him everything.
And for what?
"And if I refuse?" I asked. "If I insist on getting justice for our child?"
Byron’s expression grew heavy. He let go of my hands and walked to the window.
"Then your mother's situation could become... difficult," he said, his back still to me. "Moonpetal shipments have been unreliable lately. It would be a shame if they stopped completely."
My blood ran cold.
He actually said it.
He was threatening me with my mother's life.
"You're threatening me," I growled, my voice low.
"I'm protecting you," he said, turning back to me, that same false sympathy on his face. "Protecting all of us. At the Blood Moon ceremony, just forgive Ariana publicly, and everything will go back to normal. We can start over. We can even have another pup."
Another pup.
So he'd have another hostage to control me with?
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
When I opened them again, my face was a mask of defeat.
"Fine," I said. "I'll forgive her at the ceremony."
The tension finally drained from Byron’s shoulders. He closed his eyes, weary, a breath escaping him in a rush of pure relief.
"Good... okay... Sandra. Thank you for understanding."
He strode toward me, his arms reaching out to pull me into an embrace.
"I know this is hell for you," he said, his voice low and strained. "Trust me, when this is over, I'll make it right. I'll make up for—"
"But I have a condition." I stepped back, avoiding his embrace.
He frowned.
"What condition?"
I slowly ran a hand over my flat stomach, where our child once grew.
The little life that never got to see the world.
"I need seven days," I said, my voice like steel. "I'm going to hold a mourning ceremony for our child. A proper one."
