Aria's POV
I hit the stairs hard.
My shoulder cracked against stone. Then my hip. Then my head—a burst of white light exploding behind my eyes. The world spun as I tumbled down, down, down into darkness.
Each impact drove the air from my lungs. Each bounce sent new waves of pain through my body. But worse than any of it was the cramping that started low in my stomach—sharp, terrible, wrong.
No. No, no, no.
I finally stopped moving at the bottom of the staircase, crumpled on cold basement floor. For a moment, I couldn't feel anything. Then everything hurt at once.
"Oops." Celeste's voice drifted down from above, sweet as poisoned honey. "How clumsy of you. I told Daemon you omegas were always tripping over your own feet."
I tried to move, but my body wouldn't respond. Warm wetness spread beneath me—too much, too fast. The cramping got worse, like claws tearing me apart from the inside.
The baby. Oh goddess, the baby.
"Help," I tried to scream, but it came out as a whisper. "Someone help me."
"No one's coming, Aria." Celeste descended the stairs slowly, carefully, like she had all the time in the world. "This is the servant level. No one important ever comes down here." She crouched beside me, her perfect face showing no remorse. "It's better this way. Clean. An accident. Poor clumsy omega fell down the stairs."
"You... you murdered..." I couldn't finish. Another cramp hit, stealing my breath.
"Murdered?" She laughed softly. "You're not dead yet. Though you will be soon, from the looks of all that blood. And the bastard baby?" She shrugged. "Well, nature's taking care of that problem for me."
Rage gave me strength I didn't know I had. My hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. "Monster."
Celeste jerked away, but not before I saw fear flicker in her amber eyes. "Let go of me, you filthy—"
"Aria?"
Old Healer Meredith's voice echoed through the basement. Her footsteps hurried closer. "Child, where are you? I felt something was wrong—oh, blessed Moon Goddess!"
She appeared around the corner, took one look at me lying in a pool of blood, and her face went white.
Celeste stood smoothly, her expression shifting to perfect concern. "Meredith! Thank goodness you're here. I found her like this—she must have fallen. I was just about to get help."
"You're lying," I gasped out. "She pushed me. She tried to kill—"
"She's delirious from the fall," Celeste interrupted, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Poor thing. Hit her head pretty hard."
Meredith's ancient eyes moved between us, reading truth I couldn't speak. "Get out," she said quietly to Celeste.
"But I should stay and help—"
"GET OUT!" Power rolled off the old healer—not Alpha power, but something older, something that made even Celeste flinch. "Before I forget my oath to do no harm and make an exception for you."
Celeste's mask slipped for just a second, showing the vicious creature underneath. Then she smiled sweetly and glided toward the stairs. "I'll send someone to help move her to the healers' ward."
"Don't bother," Meredith said coldly. "You've done enough."
The moment Celeste disappeared, Meredith knelt beside me. Her hands glowed with healing magic—weak, but real. "Oh, child. What has she done to you?"
"My baby." Tears streamed down my face. "Please save my baby. Please."
Meredith's hands pressed against my stomach, and her expression crumbled. "Aria, I'm so sorry. The fall... the damage is too severe. Even if we were in the healers' ward with full supplies, I couldn't—"
"No." The word tore from my throat. "No, please. Try. You have to try."
"I am trying." Her magic pulsed through me, desperate and failing. "But I'm too weak, and you're losing too much blood. I need help. I need—"
Her words cut off as a presence filled the basement.
The air got heavy, pressing down on us like a physical weight. My wolf—silent and suppressed for so long—suddenly stirred, whimpering. Something ancient and powerful had entered the building, something that made my broken body want to submit and hide.
Footsteps echoed through the hallway. Not hurried. Steady. Confident. Like whoever was approaching owned the entire world and knew it.
Meredith gasped. "That's impossible. Why would he—"
A man appeared in the doorway.
I couldn't see him clearly through my tears and pain, but I felt him. Power radiated off him like heat from a fire. His scent hit me—pine and winter storms and something wild that made my dying wolf raise her head.
"What happened here?" His voice was deep, commanding, but somehow gentle when his eyes found me. "Who did this?"
"My lord." Meredith bowed her head, trembling. "I didn't know you'd arrived at Silvercrest. This is—"
"A dying girl who reeks of omega suppression and false magic." He moved closer, and I finally saw his face. Strong features. Midnight black hair. Silver eyes that seemed to glow in the dim basement light. "And old blood. Very old blood."
He knelt beside me, and up close, his presence was overwhelming. This wasn't an Alpha. This was something more, something that made Daemon's new power look like a candle next to the sun.
"Please," I whispered, not knowing who he was but somehow knowing he could help. "My baby. Save my baby."
Those silver eyes softened with something like grief. His hand hovered over my stomach, and magic—real, powerful magic—pulsed from his palm. After a moment, he closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "The child is already gone."
The words didn't feel real. They couldn't be real.
"No," I sobbed. "No, please, you're wrong. You have to be wrong. Please—"
"But you don't have to be." His eyes opened, pinning me with intensity that stole my breath. "I can save you, if you let me."
"Why?" I managed to ask through tears and pain. "Why would you save omega trash?"
"Because you're not an omega." His hand pressed against my chest, right over my heart. Right over where my silent wolf lived. "My Lycan knows it even if you don't. You're something else. Something they've hidden and suppressed and tried to destroy."
"Who are you?"
"Ezra Nightshade." He said it simply, like it should mean something.
Meredith made a strangled sound. "The Lycan King."
The Lycan King. The most powerful creature in all the territories. The ancient ruler every Alpha feared. And he was kneeling in my blood, offering to save my worthless life.
"Why?" I asked again.
"Because my Lycan won't let me leave you here to die." His arms slid under me, lifting me like I weighed nothing. "And because something about you calls to me in ways I haven't felt in six hundred years."
"But the pack—Alpha Crest will—"
"Alpha Crest has no authority over me." His eyes flashed silver-white, pure Lycan power that made my wolf whimper in submission and recognition. "By Lycan law, I'm claiming you as my subject. You belong to my kingdom now."
"You can't just take her!" Daemon's voice roared from the staircase.
He stood at the top of the stairs, emerald eyes blazing with fury and new Alpha power. Behind him, half the ceremony guests crowded in to watch. Including Celeste, her face pale.
Ezra didn't even look at him. "I can. And I am."
"She's MY mate! The Moon Goddess—"
"The Moon Goddess makes mistakes." Ezra's voice dropped to a growl that rattled my bones. "Or perhaps she knew this girl deserved better than a weak Alpha who treats his mate like property."
"How dare you—"
"Challenge me if you want." Ezra finally looked up at Daemon, and the difference in their power was laughable. "But you'll lose. And then I'll take your pack too."
Daemon faltered, his new Alpha confidence crumbling against ancient Lycan authority.
"That's what I thought." Ezra adjusted his hold on me, gentle despite his harsh words. "Meredith, you're coming with us. This girl needs a healer she can trust."
"Yes, my lord." Meredith scrambled to her feet.
As Ezra carried me toward the stairs, I caught Daemon's expression—shock, anger, and something that might have been regret. Too late. Everything was too late.
"Wait," Celeste's voice rang out, sugar-sweet. "Aria fell down the stairs by accident. It was tragic, but—"
"She's lying," I gasped out. "She pushed me. She murdered my baby."
The crowd gasped. Celeste's face went white.
"That's not true!" she protested. "She's confused from hitting her head. I would never—"
Ezra stopped walking. His eyes locked on Celeste, and the temperature in the basement seemed to drop twenty degrees.
"You killed a child," he said softly. Dangerously. "An heir."
"No! She's lying! I'm the Luna! I would never—"
"My Lycan can smell lies." His power pressed outward, making everyone in the stairwell drop to their knees—everyone except Daemon, who barely stayed standing. "And you reek of them. You reek of murder."
"This is pack business," Alpha Crest wheezed from somewhere in the crowd. "You have no right to interfere with our—"
"I have every right." Ezra's eyes never left Celeste's terrified face. "By attacking my subject, she attacked my kingdom. That's an act of war."
Silence fell like a hammer.
"So here's what's going to happen," Ezra continued, his voice carrying to every corner. "I'm taking this girl to heal her. The old healer comes with us. And you—" his gaze swept across Daemon, Celeste, and Alpha Crest, "—have three days to decide if you want to go to war with me over it."
"We would never—" Daemon started.
"Good. Then we're done here." Ezra climbed the stairs, carrying me like I was something precious instead of broken. At the top, he paused beside Celeste. "Pray we never meet again, Luna. Because next time, I won't be so merciful."
The crowd parted like water as he strode through. I caught glimpses of shocked faces, heard whispered questions, felt the pack's confusion and fear.
Then we were outside in the cold night air. A massive black vehicle waited—sleek and expensive, nothing like the pack's old trucks.
"Put her in the back," Ezra ordered someone. "Carefully. Meredith, you're with her. If she dies before we reach the palace, everyone here dies with her."
As gentle hands laid me across soft leather seats, I looked back at the packhouse one final time.
Daemon stood in the doorway, his face twisted with emotions I couldn't read. Celeste clutched his arm, whispering urgently in his ear. The pack gathered behind them, witness to their Alpha's mate being stolen by the Lycan King.
"Home," Ezra commanded, sliding into the front seat. "And don't stop for anything."
The vehicle purred to life. As we pulled away from Silvercrest—from my prison, from my pain, from everything I'd ever known—I pressed my hand against my empty stomach and finally let myself break.
My baby was gone. My mate had betrayed me. My best friend had tried to kill me.
But somehow, impossibly, I was still alive.
And the Lycan King himself had saved me.