SERAPHINA'S POV
Another sleepless night.
The irony wasn't lost on me—I hadn't shared a bed with Kieran in years, yet the unfamiliar silence of this new house felt louder than any absence. Every time I closed my eyes, the ghosts of what might have been danced behind my lids.
Three times I'd crept down the hall to check on Daniel, only to find him curled peacefully under his Star Wars comforter, his breathing deep and even. Thank the moon for small mercies. This modest house might lack the imposing security of the Alpha Manor, but I'd fill every inch with enough love to compensate.
When dawn's pale fingers finally pried through my blackout curtains, a lead weight settled in my stomach.
Today we'd bury my father.
I dressed slowly, each movement weighted with dread. It wasn't grief that paralyzed me—our relationship had died long before his heart stopped beating. No, it was the prospect of facing my family's judgmental stares, of standing across a coffin from Kieran while our divorce papers gathered fresh ink.
Ex-husband. The term scraped against my raw nerves.
Daniel's door creaked as I pushed it open. My breath caught—there he sat, already dressed in the miniature black suit we'd picked out together, his small fingers deftly maneuvering his Nintendo Switch.
"Morning, Mom." He flashed me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Tears pricked my lashes. Where had my baby gone? The boy staring back at me wore Kieran's strong jawline, his piercing gaze. A living reminder of everything I'd lost—and everything I'd gained.
"Look at you," I whispered, smoothing his lapel. "All grown up."
Sadness shadowed his face, but he steeled himself and put the video game console aside. "Let's go," he whispered, shoulders squaring with forced bravery.
But when the old stone church loomed into view, Daniel's courage faltered. His knuckles whitened around the car door handle.
"Hey." I cupped his tense shoulder. "Talk to me."
When he turned, the unshed tears in his eyes shattered me. "We didn't... we didn't get to say goodbye. Does that mean Grandpa doesn't know we loved him?"
The question hit like a silver dagger between my ribs. While my father's absence had become my normal, Daniel had lost his favorite storytelling partner, his secret cookie supplier.
I pressed my palm over his thundering heart. "Grandpa's right here, my love." My voice cracked. "And here." I tapped his temple gently. "As long as we remember him, he's never really gone."
Daniel exhaled shakily, some of the tension leaving his small frame. "Okay."
"Ready?"
His nod was all the strength I needed. Together, we stepped out of the car.
The church doors swallowed us into a sea of mourners—pack members in their finest black, allies from neighboring territories, and a scattering of human associates who'd done business with my father. The air hummed with whispered condolences and the cloying scent of lilies.
My family sat like royalty in the front pew. My mother's head rested against Ethan's shoulder, while Celeste—
Gods.
Even in grief, my sister looked like she'd stepped from a magazine spread. Sunlight through stained glass windows gilded her perfect blonde waves, her designer dress clinging to curves that had always made my own frame feel boyish in comparison.
"Daniel, darling!" My mother's arms opened wide as we approached—not for me, never for me—but for the grandson who carried the Blackthorne name. The grandson who mattered.
I watched numbly as Daniel was enfolded in her embrace, his small frame disappearing against her black lace. That left only one vacant seat—sandwiched between Celeste and the end of the pew.
My sister's glacial blue eyes raked over me. A decade apart, yet her hatred hadn't dimmed. She inched away as I sat, the silk of her dress whispering against the pew like a snake's warning.
Trying to force my thoughts away from the family who didn't want me, I let my gaze wander round the hall—and land on another family that didn't want me. The Blackthornes occupied the opposite side of the aisle, Kieran's broad shoulders cutting an imposing silhouette beside his parents.
Leona Blackthorne's lips pursed when she noticed me looking. Like my family rejected me, the Blackthornes refused to accept me. To them, I was Kieran's legal wife, not his Luna.
His mother, Leona, still held the title of Luna even after the Alpha title was passed to Kieran. Now, she regarded me icily. I'm sure she was ecstatic over the divorce news. The stain on her family was finally gone.
A small, warm hand slipped into mine. Daniel had extricated himself from my mother's clutches and now formed a living barrier between me and Celeste. His fingers squeezed mine—a silent I'm here.
I squeezed back, drawing strength from this remarkable child who shouldn't have needed to be the brave one. The organ's mournful chords signaled the service's start. Just a few more hours. I could hold myself together that long. Couldn't I?
***
The day had been a blur of somber rituals and stifling formalities. After ensuring Daniel was settled with his grandparents for the evening, I’d rushed to the post-funeral gathering—a "Celebration of Life" reception at the Lockwood Hotel.
Stepping into the grand hall was like entering another world. The heavy silence of the day had been replaced by the low hum of conversation and the clink of crystal. Laughter, albeit subdued, punctuated the air.
The shift was disorienting. I hadn’t attended a function like this in a decade. Ten years ago, I was merely Celeste’s shadow. In the ten years since, Kieran had never taken me to a single public pack event.
Familiar faces swam in the crowd, but they were outnumbered by strangers. I had never been part of the inner social circles of either the Lockwoods or the Blackthornes. I kept to the edges, a ghost in my own father’s house, trying to navigate towards the family section. And then I saw it.
Across the room, Celeste stood, radiant in a slate-gray gown that complemented Kieran’s dark suit perfectly. Her hand was tucked possessively in the crook of his arm, her head tilted towards his shoulder in a gesture of intimate familiarity, as if she were his rightful Luna.
My mother stood nearby, beaming as she spoke to an elderly Alpha from a neighboring pack, undoubtedly introducing them as her proud daughter and future son-in-law.
The irony was a live wire against my frayed nerves, but I knew I had forfeited any right to object. If I’d ever had one.
"See? That’s how it was always meant to be."
The voice, sharp with malice, came from my side. Abby, Celeste’s friend from our youth, appeared like a viper. Her smile was all teeth.
"You stole what was hers. If not for you, this scene would have been at their wedding a decade ago, not a funeral. Don’t get any ideas about crawling back. I’ll be watching you for her."
Her words were poison-tipped darts, but my pride, brittle as it was, wouldn't let me crumble. "I'm here for my father. Not for anyone else."
"Playing the devoted daughter now?" Abby gave a tinkling, humorless laugh. "If you were any kind of daughter, you wouldn't have driven your own sister away for ten years. She missed her chance to say goodbye because of you."
It was a direct hit, twisting the knife of guilt that had been buried in my heart since the hospital. I knew, with a certainty that hollowed me out, that the daughter my father had truly wanted at his bedside wasn't me.
"Some people should know their place and slink back to their little rental," Abby hissed, leaning in.
I opened my mouth to retort, but she subtly, deliberately, shifted her weight and shoved her hip against mine. The motion was disguised but effective. I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the rug, and collided with a serving table laden with champagne flutes.
Time slowed. The crash of glass was deafening in the conversational lull. Shards glittered like cruel diamonds on the marble floor, champagne pooling around my ruined shoes. A wave of horrified silence washed over the section of the room, followed by a crescendo of whispers.
"Seraphina!"
My mother's voice cut through the noise, sharp with a disgust that stung more than the broken glass. Ethan was at her side, his eyes blazing with suppressed fury. "Must you always create a spectacle? Even today?"
My gaze, humiliated and desperate, flew across the room to Kieran. His brow was furrowed, a muscle ticking in his jaw. But before he could speak or move, Celeste was already gliding forward, a vision of concerned grace amidst the chaos.
She reached me, her expression a masterpiece of sympathetic distress. "Oh, Sera, you’re soaked. Let me help you." She raised her voice slightly, a gentle command to the onlookers. "It's just a little accident. Nothing to see. Please, enjoy the evening." Then, her hand closed around my wrist with surprising firmness. "I'll take her to get cleaned up."
I had to admire Celeste—her timing was always impeccable.
She steered me away from the staring crowd, down a familiar hallway to a small, opulent sitting room often used for private conversations. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, the compassionate mask melted away.
The serene concern vanished from her face, replaced by a cold, glacial calm. She released my wrist as if it were contaminated.
"Still making a mess of everything, I see," she said, her voice soft but devoid of all warmth.“Well, this does simplify things.”
The cloying scent of her jasmine perfume enveloped me as she closed the distance. "Ten years, sister," she hissed. "Ten years you played house with my life. But I'm reclaiming what's mine—my family, my position..." Her breath warmed my ear. "My Kieran."
“And this time, you’re going to lose everything.”
If this weren't my father's memorial, I might have laughed.
The absurdity—Celeste had always owned them all. Their love, their loyalty, Kieran's heart—none of it had ever truly been mine to lose.
I met her icy gaze, keeping my voice as steady as I could, refusing to let the bitterness seep through. “It seems you haven’t changed either, Celeste. The one who got everything, yet somehow always the victim.”
A flicker of raw anger, primal and satisfying, flashed across her perfect features. Bullseye.
“It took me a decade to accept my part in what happened. But you weren’t innocent, Celeste. I offered to run, to do anything to stop the wedding, to leave Kieran for you. I even begged you. But you did nothing!”
“You’re lying!” she snapped, but the denial came too quickly, the faint flush creeping up her neck betraying her. The old wound still festered. “You threatened me! You wanted to make me look like the villain!”
I let out a short, humorless laugh, taking a step closer. “Is that what it was? Your perfect image came first? So you ran across an ocean rather than fight for the ‘great love’ you supposedly shared?”
Her breath hitched, thrown by the direct hit. For a long moment, she just stared. Then she took a deep breath, her expression settling into one of cold, triumphant pity. “You’ve gotten better at twisting the truth in ten years. I had to leave because I was heartbroken. And, most importantly, because everyone chose to believe my heartbreak over your… circumstances.”
The air left my lungs in a quiet rush.
A slow, cruel smile curved her lips. “But I can understand. How else could you have made yourself feel better about these ten years, if not by telling yourself a few lies?”
My fists clenched at my sides, the urge to wipe that smug look off her face almost overwhelming.
“Admit it, Sera. You weren’t enough. I heard Father cut off your funds. Mother and Ethan froze you out. But you know what? Even from overseas, I never lost my place. Every major holiday, they flew to see me…”
“See, I gave you ten years, Sera. And you still couldn’t earn their love. If anything, they love me more.”
My heart twisted, the old abandonment wound ripped wide open anew. And my own sister reveled in it.
“And Kieran? He kept sending Christmas gifts every single year. Even when I never wrote back, he never missed one. Did you really think you could ever win against that?”
I fought to keep the tears from showing, to keep my voice from trembling. “I don’t care anymore, Celeste. Kieran and I are divorced. I won’t give you another chance to stand on my dignity.”
“Let’s hope our paths don’t cross again.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I turned, pulled the door open, and strode back down the hallway, past the murmuring guests, out of the grand hall that had never been my home, away from the people who had never been my family. The weight of their stares was a physical pressure on my back, but I refused to look back. I never should have come.
All I wanted now was my son. To collect Daniel from his grandparents, go back to our little house, and start building the quiet, honest life we deserved.
But the tears I’d held back all day finally broke free the moment I was alone in the car. They weren't gentle; they were a torrent, blurring the stately drive of the Lockwood Hotel into a watery smear of green and gray. Sobs shook my shoulders, making it hard to breathe, hard to see. I was crying for the father I’d never truly had, for the mother who despised me, for the love that had always been a lie.
I was driving too fast for the winding, tree-lined road, blinded by grief and rage and a desperate need to escape. The headlights cut a shaky path through the deepening twilight.
That’s why I didn’t see it until it was too late.
One moment, the road was empty. The next, a massive, dark shape erupted from the dense undergrowth to my right. It wasn’t a deer. It moved on two legs, then four—a terrifying, loping gait that covered the distance in a heartbeat.
A rogue.