Mara doesn't leave me.
She follows me into my chambers and closes the door behind her like she's locking the world out. I barely make it two steps before my legs give out and I stumble toward the bed, gasping like the air.
My wolf whines low inside, pacing frantically,
"My Luna," Mara says quickly, coming to my side. "Breathe. Please. You need to breathe."
I press my hands to my face, shaking violently. "She hates me," I choke. "She wants me gone. She wants me dead."
My wolf snarls in agreement, the sound vibrating through my chest, protective fury rising for the pup she's already claimed as hers.
Mara grips my shoulders firmly. "You must calm yourself. This—this state is not good for the child."
"I can't stay," I sob. "I can't."
My wolf curls tighter around that small spark inside me, shielding it.
"You don't have to decide tonight," Mara says softly. "Not like this. Let the night pass. You'll leave at dawn. It will be safer."
I shake my head, pacing again, fingers pulling at my hair. "I don't trust her. I don't trust any of this."
The idea of waiting until dawn feels right, though—gives me a few hours to steady myself, to plan. My wolf quiets slightly, agreeing, but
stays vigilant.
"Fine," I whisper finally. "At first light."
Mara exhales in relief. "Good. Now let me help you."
We pack fast but messy. I grab clothes that won't slow me—dark layers, sturdy boots, a cloak for the cold. Mara folds more carefully beside me, glancing up every few seconds like she's afraid I'll shatter again. My wolf growls softly at every noise from the corridor, ears pricked, ready.
A knock interrupts us.
Mara goes to the door. A servant stands there holding a covered tray.
"Dinner for the Luna," he says. "From the Alpha."
Mara takes the tray, sets it on the table, then turns to me. "You should eat something. For the baby."
"I'm not hungry," I say immediately.
"You must try."
"I can't."
She hesitates, then nods. "All right. We'll keep it."
She sets the tray aside and returns to packing with me.
Roux wanders over, tail wagging, curious about the smell. He nudges the tray and starts eating before I notice.
"Hey—leave that—" I wave him off distractedly. "Go."
He trots away, unbothered.
I turn back to folding.
Minutes pass.
Then a low, wet gurgle breaks the silence.
I turn.
Roux staggers sideways. His legs buckle like strings cut. He hits the rug hard, ribs heaving once, twice, then nothing. Foam bubbles at the corners of his mouth, pink-tinged. His eyes are already glassy, staring at nothing.
For one stunned heartbeat I don't understand.
Then the tray flashes in my mind. The covered plate. The note in Demitri's sharp handwriting.
You haven't eaten all day. Have something. Today must have taken a toll on you.
My knees fold. I drop beside Roux, hands hovering, terrified to confirm.
"No," I breathe. "No—no—no—"
Mara is there in an instant, dropping to her knees on the other side. She presses fingers to his neck, then jerks her hand back.
"He's gone," she whispers.
The room tilts.
I scramble backward until my spine hits the bedframe. My wolf howls inside—raw, ragged, grief tearing through her
"He tried to poison me," I say. The words come out flat. Dead. Like someone else is speaking them.
Mara's face drains of color. She looks from the tray to me to the dead dog, then back to the tray.
"The note said you hadn't eaten," she murmurs. "He knew you'd be weak. Emotional. He knew you might finally take something from him."
My breath comes out in a broken sob.
"He didn't even want me to leave," I whisper. "He just… wanted me gone. Tonight. Quietly."
My wolf snarls, fury replacing grief,Mara's eyes fill, but she blinks hard, refusing to let them fall.
"We can't stay until dawn anymore," she says. Voice shaking, but steady underneath. "If he's already sent this—" She gestures at Roux. "—then he's not waiting for you to decide. He's decided for you."
My pulse roars in my ears.
I look at Roux again—my stupid, loyal shadow who followed me through every corridor, slept at the foot of the bed even when Demitri growled at him to leave. The only living thing in this pack who never once looked at me like I was borrowed.
I stand.
My legs still shake, but they hold.
"I'm leaving now," I say. "Not dawn. Now."
Mara nods once, already moving.
She crosses to the wardrobe, pulls out the darkest cloak I own—deep charcoal, hooded, the kind meant for winter patrols. She presses it into my arms.
"Take the servants' tunnels under the east wing," she says quickly. "They lead past the stables, out through the old drainage grate by the river bend. Almost no one remembers they exist. I'll create a distraction—tell the night guard you're ill, that you've locked yourself in and ordered no visitors till morning."
I grab her wrist before she can turn away.
"You'll be punished if they find out you helped me."
Her mouth twists into something fierce and small.
"I was never going to stay under him anyway," she says. "Not after today. Not after this." She nods toward Roux. "Go. Before the halls fill with patrol changes."
I swallow hard.
Then I pull her into a quick, bruising hug. She smells like bread and pine soap and everything safe I'm about to lose.
"Thank you," I choke against her shoulder.
"Don't thank me yet," she mutters. "Just live."
She pushes me toward the hidden panel behind the tall bookshelf—the one only a handful of people know about. I shove books aside, fingers trembling, until the latch gives.
Cold, damp air rushes out.
I glance back one last time.
Mara is already lifting Roux's body gently,wrapping him in a spare blanket like she's tucking in a child. She doesn't look at me again.
She's giving me the only gift she can: time.
I slip into the dark tunnel and pull the panel shut behind me.
The passage is narrow, low-ceilinged, cobwebs brushing my face like fingers. I move fast—half crouch, half run—counting turns the way Mara drilled into me months ago when we were still laughing about "escape plans for dramatic evenings."
The irony burns.
My hand stays pressed to my stomach the whole way.
My wolf curls around the pup, steady and fierce, her presence a low, constant growl of keep going, keep going.
I don't speak to the child inside me—not yet. Words feel too dangerous, like naming something might make it more breakable.
But I think it.
I'm getting us out.
I'm keeping us alive.
I burst out into the night and run. I don't slow down and I don't stop. Neither do I look back.
Branches tear at my skin. The cold bites deep. My breath comes in sharp bursts, fogging in the moonlight.
Then I hear them.
Footsteps crashing through the underbrush. Shouts in dark.
They're coming.
My heart slams against my ribs. My wolf surges, urging speed, but the pup inside makes every shift impossible.
I try anyway.
Pain explodes through my abdomen so hard I scream and stumble.
No, my wolf snarls inside. We can't. You're carrying life.
"I know," I sob, forcing my legs to keep moving.
The border markers come into view—old stones half-buried in moss, glowing faintly under the moon.
Almost. Almost there—
I stop dead.
One last thing.
I raise my voice, shaking but clear, loud enough for the wind and the Goddess and the approaching hunters to hear.
"I, Alex of the Blue Moon Pack," I say, "renounce my title as Luna and my allegiance to this pack. I release myself from its laws, its bonds, and its protection."
The pack bond snaps like a rope cut clean through. A heavy weight lifts from my chest,My wolf howls in relief inside me
They're closer now. Boots pounding. Growls rising.
I turn suddenly and slash with the blade Mara gave me. It catches one of them across the arm. He howls—more furious than hurt.
"Kill her," someone snarls. "Make it clean."
They rush me.
Claws rake across my shoulder. I scream, stumble back, strike again. Blood splashes across the forest floor, hot and coppery.
Another hits my side and I go down, back slamming into the dirt. They pounce. Punches land on my ribs, my arms, my face. Kicks drive into my stomach—careless, brutal. They don't care where the blows fall.
My wolf snarls furiously, trapped but fighting inside, curling tighter around the pup, shielding with everything she has.
"We'll bury her," one of them says, voice thick with hate. "No one will find what's left."
I can't fight them anymore. I curl fully inward, arms locked over my stomach, protecting the only thing that still matters.
Blood fills my mouth. The ground is cold against my back. Someone laughs above me—low, cruel.
Not like this, I think. Not tonight. My baby won't get to see the world.
"Hecate," I whisper through bloodied lips. "Hecate of the Moon… protector of crossroads… protector of women… please hear me."
A boot slams into my side. My vision blurs, stars exploding behind my eyes.
"I don't ask for mercy," I plead silently. "I don't ask for escape."
Darkness creeps closer, thick and heavy.
"Just protect what's inside me," I beg. "Give my child a chance to live."
Someone grabs my hair, yanks my head back, hard hands raised to slap me.
Then
The ground beneath us trembles—sudden, violent.
The men freeze.
A howl so deep it booms through the forest like thunder rolls over us. The sound shakes leaves from the trees, rattles my bones.
The attackers tense, fear flashing in their eyes.
My wolf lifts her head inside me, ears pricked, sensing something massive and powerful approaching.
Then everything goes black.