Chapter 2

Ethan had probably forgotten.

Eight years ago, he had ridden through every street of the city, howling my name to anyone who would listen — telling the whole pack that Lara Wren was the only woman he would ever claim as his mate. Even the Alpha had heard about it.

He had tracked down the rarest white wolf-pelt from the northern borderlands and had it rushed back by courier, all because I ran cold.

For eight years after that, he had given me real, tangible love. So when I woke up at the bottom of that ravine, legs gone, and the pack doctor confirmed I would never walk again — I hadn’t cried.

I had come apart entirely.

I had believed Ethan would hold me through all of it, unconditionally.

I was wrong.

Love has limits. And enough of the wrong things can erode it.

Family bonds. Mate bonds. Both.

Three years of volatility had cost me not just Ethan but Ash — my son had slowly gone quiet inside my daily storms, until one day he simply stopped coming to me at all.

He no longer told me about the funny things that happened at his lessons.

He no longer trailed after me asking for the honey cakes I used to make.

I tilted my head back. The tears came faster.

An empty room. Just the sound of my own muffled crying.

Lara, you really did this to yourself.

You had something good and you ground it to nothing.

I swallowed the ache, refused to let myself look back any further, and when the worst of it had passed, I wheeled myself to find Ash. I had brought medicine for his welts.

I hadn’t even reached his door when I heard Seraphine’s voice inside.

“Ash, sweetheart. Hold still — almost done.”

I stopped.

Through the gap in the door I could see Seraphine perched on the edge of the bed, carefully pressing salve into the marks on Ash’s back. The boy lay flat and still, not making a sound.

They looked like a mother and child.

The feed drifted past.

[Seraphine is so gentle. This is what a real mother looks like.]

[Ash must be so moved. When has the villainess ever once tended to his wounds? All she ever does is make new ones.]

[Exactly. Does she even deserve to be called his mother?]

My fingers tightened around the medicine jar.

Behind me, footsteps.

Ethan had appeared at my back, studying me with a furrowed brow.

“What are you doing here?”

He glanced at the jar in my hands, then at the scene through the door. His voice was flat.

“You can’t move easily. Stop wandering.”

I swallowed the sting and pushed through the door.

“I came to dress Ash’s wounds.”

Ash turned at the sound of my voice.

Eight years old, and already his face had stopped carrying expressions around me.

He looked at me and the corner of his mouth pulled into something thin and cutting.

“Mother’s hands are too fine for this kind of work.”

“Besides — I should thank you. You’re the one who gave me all these marks.”

He turned over. His back was covered in crossing welts.

I went still.

I had struck him countless times over the years. Every time, he had said nothing — appeared the next morning as though nothing had happened.

I had never understood, until now, how hard I had been hitting.

The feed erupted.

[Is she even human? He’s a child!]

[Thank the moon for Seraphine. She was thinking about him even during the border campaign — brought him a carved toy horse. Worth ten of that woman.]

I followed the feed’s gaze to the bedside table. A small wooden horse sat there, delicately carved — clearly not from anything sold in the city.

Ash finished dressing, climbed down from the bed, and stepped in front of the horse — half-shielding it behind him — then looked up at me.

“Do you need something else?”

His eyes were cold.

Ethan stood at his side, watching me with the same chill.

It felt like a needle pressed between my ribs.

I looked away and left.

Back in my room, I dug through the chest at the foot of my bed until I found a small carved pendant at the very bottom.

My brother Dominic had made it for me when I was five. I could still hear his voice, lifting me over his head, laughing.

“Lara. I’ll always be here.”

I closed my fist around it and felt a sudden, overwhelming need to see him.

I sent a message through the pack channel asking for a visit.

The reply took a long time. When it came back, the messenger wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“The Alpha says… he has pack business today. He asks that you come another time.”

A pause, then: “He also says — if you need anything from the house, to request it through the steward.”

I gave a small, bitter smile.

Understood.

My brother was done with me too.

Dusk came. I had dinner brought to my room, ate a few bites, and set it aside.

Ethan didn’t come.

In the early years after battle campaigns, he had always spent the first nights back in my room.

Tonight I waited until long past midnight. He never appeared.

The feed drifted past, lazy and merciless.

[Don’t bother waiting. He’s in Seraphine’s room.]

[It’s their honeymoon phase. Of course they’re together. Stop embarrassing yourself.]

[He came home at all. Be grateful.]

I blew out the candle and lay in the dark, staring at nothing.

It’s fine.

It’s normal.

He loves Seraphine. It’s normal.