His expression shuttered. Something flickered in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret—but it vanished quickly, buried beneath indifference.
“I was going to. But now isn’t the right time.”
He pressed a small pouch into my palm. The weight of silver coins clinked inside. “Take this. Leave quietly. If you must, sever the bond. It’ll be better—for all of us.”
I looked at the pouch.
Then I laughed.
It wasn’t loud, but it was sharp enough to slice through the tension in the courtyard.
I raised the pouch high—and turned it upside down. Silver coins scattered across the stones, rolling into shadows and under boots.
“Alpha Damien of Nightfang now dismisses his true mate and child with silver?” I asked, voice calm but clear. “How noble.”
The chatter around the gates died instantly.
“Selene,” Damien hissed. “Are you insane? What are you doing?”
“I’m feeding my daughter,” I said flatly. “She hasn’t eaten in three days. I came here to claim what’s mine. But if all you can offer us is coin, then let your wolves hear the truth.”
My gaze swept over the curious, whispering nobles. I stepped forward, not bothering to hide my ripped cloak or the blood on my boots.
“I am Selene Stormfang. Bonded mate of Alpha Damien. Marked beneath the Blood Moon. I bore his daughter, Ayla, and bled for this Pack. And he discarded me like trash when another female offered him more power.”
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd. Damien went rigid.
“You don’t understand what you’re doing,” he muttered. “There are guests. Diplomats. Elara—”
“Elara,” I repeated, tasting the name like ash on my tongue.
Speak of the devil.
She appeared at the top of the stairs, all grace and glitter—Elara, the polished serpent. Dressed in ivory and crowned with braids threaded in gold. Her hand rested protectively on the slight swell of her stomach.
“Elara,” I said, lifting my chin. “The new Luna. The one you chose over us.”
Her voice was sweet, oiled with false concern. “Selene, if you’re truly who you say you are, then of course you’re welcome. You must be exhausted. Come inside, we’ll—”
“No,” I cut in, cold. “Don’t pretend kindness now. I would not be taken to a side room.”
Her smile faltered. Briefly. Enough.
“I’m not here for charity. And I’m not going to some servant’s quarters to be hidden like a sin. You’re having a feast, aren’t you? Good. My daughter and I are starving. We’ll eat with the rest.”