The Broken Luna's Revenge

Nyra's POV

I stood in the hearth hall long after the fire had been lit, rearranging plates that didn’t need rearranging.

Silver claws etched into black obsidian platters caught the firelight. The scent of roasted marrow and moon-spiced meat filled the air, rich enough to make my stomach twist.

Tonight was the only night that mattered

I checked the hourglass for the third time, wincing as I realized the silver sand was almost gone.

Caden should have been back by now.

My mate.

The Alpha of Blackridge Pack.

The man who had promised under the full moon that I would never stand alone again.

He was supposed to bring our pup home tonight, and we were finally going to name him together.

Darien had been placed in my arms four years ago, brought back from the border patrol the night I was told my labor had gone wrong.

I had raised him as my own ever since—nursed him, protected him, loved him—never once doubting that the child sleeping under our roof was mine, even when his spirit ran wilder than most pups.

Caden didn’t want me as his Luna at first, a situation that was more than understandable given the circumstances. But along the lines I thought, would it actually kill him to have one ounce of affection for me?

It was a naming night and the anniversary of my bond-mark. A quiet celebration with just the three of us. That was all I’d asked for.

And yet, he was about to bail on me again.

The bond-mark on my collarbone burned faintly.

Then my comm-tablet flared.

I exhaled in relief and touched it.

“I’m delayed. Don’t wait up.”

Caden’s voice was flat and cold, like stone with no sun.

My chest tightened. “Caden, tonight is…”

The tablet went dark.

The bond snapped tight with familiar indifference, as if my pain had brushed against him and slid right off.

I stood there, staring at the dead rune, the fire crackling too loud in my ears.

One night, I thought bitterly. I only needed him for one night.

Suddenly, my wolf’s ears perked up, alert with danger ringing in her ears. When I rushed to the windows, there was a loud commotion going on down below.

“What’s happening?” I tried using the pack link to communicate with my assistant, Acura, but her wolf was as agitated as mine.

Before I could think, the mountain answered me with fire.

The explosion came from below, deafening as the massive ball of heat upturned the packhouse. The hall lurched. Stone screamed. Heat slammed into my back and I was thrown across the floor like prey.

Something crushed my arm, and white pain exploded up my spine as the ceiling split and flame poured in, smoke clawing down my throat. I screamed, the sound tearing itself raw from my chest.

Fire.

Ash.

Blood.

I dragged myself across the stone, fingers slipping, vision blurring, and clawed for the comm-stone again.

“Caden,” I gasped. “Please…”

“This link is unavailable.”

The bond went silent.

I don’t remember much after that. Only strong arms pulling me free, cold air burning my lungs, and voices shouting over one another as I drifted in and out of darkness.

Then I heard his voice drag me out of unconsciousness.

“My mate is injured! Get her to a healer—now!”

For one fragile heartbeat, my chest loosened. Tears burned behind my eyes as hope surged so violently it almost stole my breath.

I thought he had come for me…that after all the blood, the pain, the silence between us, fate had finally turned back in my favor.

I froze.

Because he wasn’t looking at me.

Through smoke and pain, I forced my head to turn.

Caden stood several paces away, his arms wrapped tightly around another woman. Her hair was pale as frost, her scent unmistakably sweet—familiar, intimate in a way it should never have been.

She clung to his chest, trembling. “Caden… it hurts…”

His face—my Alpha’s face—was twisted with a panic I had never once seen in eight years. Not in battle. Not in loss. Not for me.

Beside him, a small figure sobbed.

“Please help my mother!” Darien cried, his wolf whining with despair. “Don’t let her die!”

The word struck like a blow.

Mother?

My ears rang, the world tilting as something inside me cracked.

A healer spoke calmly, wary yet determined. “We must prioritize. This she wolf, she's in critical condition.” She gestured towards my direction.

“No,” Caden snapped. “She goes first. Nothing matters more than my mate.”

Still, he did not look at me.

The healer hesitated. “Alpha, the injured she-wolf here is from the lower den. You reside eight levels above. Shall we transport them together?”

The world went cold.

My vision tunneled, pain roaring through my veins as realization tore through me like claws through flesh. Whatever hope had flared inside me moments ago died just as violently.

I forced myself upright on the stretcher, my body screaming in protest.

“Forget it,” I said, my voice hoarse but steady. “Take them inside.”

Caden turned sharply, eyes widening, and only then did he see me.

The woman in his arms lifted her face, and the firelight cut through the smoke enough for recognition to strike.

Nyra Blackridge, what a fool you’ve been, I thought dully.

The woman wasn’t who I expected, but I certainly wasn’t surprised.

Delilah Jones

The former omega. The girl his parents had deemed “unfit” years ago. The one he had sworn was nothing but the past.

He didn’t deny it.

“Delilah is hurt,” he said after a pause, as if gauging my thoughts. “I’ll explain later.”

Then he carried her away.

Darien hesitated for a bit and looked back at me once—just once—then followed them without a word.

My chest gave way, hollowing out in a single, brutal beat.

The healers bound my leg in silver-threaded splints. Burns were salved with balm, and the pain had dulled. But nothing touched the hollow spreading inside me.

In the corridor, I heard whispers.

Apparently Delilah had only minor wounds. Scratches. Bruises.

Yet Caden had torn an experienced healer away from a dying elder to tend to her.

The maids laughed softly about how lucky she was to be cherished by an Alpha so completely, and then moved on to silently gossiping about my predicament.

An Alpha who doesn’t love his Luna.

I stared down at my ruined leg and smiled bitterly.

First my womb.

Now my body.

Everything taken, piece by piece.

I wheeled myself through the corridor, searching for answers I already feared.

The door was half open.

“…Nyra is here too,” Delilah said gently. “Aren’t you going to see her?”

Caden’s voice was low as he answered her, but laced with a tone of resentment I hadn’t noticed before.

“She was never meant to matter. You are Darien’s true mother, and so you matter more. Years ago, I made sure Nyra’s unborn daughter would never breathe so you could raise your son without complication or competition.”

The world shattered.

“My Delilah,” he continued softly, “you were always my chosen mate. You deserve peace. Nyra was useful to raise the child. Nothing more.”

Delilah laughed quietly. “I love you, Caden.”

I bit down on my hand to keep from screaming.

My daughter.

My baby.

Murdered by the mate whose mark still burned on my skin.

I don’t remember returning to my room.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, the moonlight slicing through the window like a blade.

I never even got to hold you, my little wolf.

Back then, It was sudden—one night, one blurred memory, and then weeks later a healer confirmed I was carrying Caden’s pup. I believed it meant we were finally whole. But the bond between us was never stable enough, and my wolf paid the price. I lost my baby before I could ever hold her—before I could even hear her first cry.

That was what I thought…So that was Caden? I chuckled bitterly.

The door opened, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Caden entered, his expression blank. “I came to check on you.”

A broken laugh tore out of me.

“You should be with your real mate.”

His brow furrowed. “Nyra, don’t be dramatic. Delilah needed help, and you know I treat her like family.”

Family.

The door burst open.

Darien stormed in, eyes blazing.

“Why are you scolding Father? Aunt Delilah is just Daddy’s friend—she helps us all the time! You’re just jealous!”

The words hurt way more than the explosion.

“Since that’s the way you want it, I’ll step aside,” I said quietly. “Release me from the bond, so you can have your happy home. I’m done with this.”

Caden’s face darkened. “That’s nonsense. I’ll apologize if that’s what you want.”

I shook my head, still smiling bitterly. No apology could resurrect my child.

Tears burned down my face as hatred finally eclipsed love.

I hated him.

I wished I had let him die the night I saved him from rogue wolves.

He stepped closer, touching my hair gently, his voice soft and patronizing. “Rest. You’re emotional right now because of the wounds. You’ll be fine.”

Darien scoffed, folding his tiny hands. “Aunty Delilah takes care of me better anyway. Your herbs taste awful. I wish you were more like her.”

I looked at him, the same child I had spent my nights awake tending to, soothing and feeding him until I was sure he was fine.

All my years of careful devotion still couldn’t rival whatever bond blood had already claimed.. My good deeds had come to bite me back in the ass.

I lay there alone, the bond-mark burning like a curse.

Caden grabbed Darien’s hand and scolded him quietly, sparing me a sidelong glance.

But I knew that expression anywhere.

This Alpha really thought that I was being dramatic.

I lowered my gaze, letting him think he had won. Beneath the calm, my wolf stirred—not in grief, but in calculation.

If he thought I would break quietly, he had forgotten who taught me how to survive.

Nyra’s POV

I lowered my eyes, a slow, hollow smile touching my lips without ever reaching my chest.

To them, everything I had endured, every scream swallowed, every night spent in pain, every piece of myself I had carved away, amounted to nothing more than cruelty.

In their eyes, I was not injured or grieving. I was dramatic. Difficult. Punishing them for imagined slights.

My burned skin, my shattered hand, the ache that lived permanently beneath my ribs,all of it was meaningless.

I turned onto my side, deliberately facing away from the Alpha and the child standing at the foot of my bed. I didn’t want to see them. If I looked at them any longer, I feared something inside me would finally tear loose, and I no longer trusted what might crawl out.

I wanted silence. Distance. A clean severing.

Caden’s patience snapped first. I felt it in the air, his Alpha dominance pressing down instinctively even though I was broken and bound in splints.

“Nyra,” he said sharply, irritation tightening his voice. “Who exactly are you performing this little act for? Darien is right. You’ve taken this too far.”

The boy crossed his arms, chin lifted in defiance, eyes hard in a way no child’s eyes should be. “You’ll regret treating Father like this.”

I almost laughed.

Before I could speak, Caden’s comm-tablet lit up in his palm. He glanced at the rune, and something in his expression shifted and softened, focused in a way it never was with me.

He answered without hesitation.

The room fell silent, and Delilah’s quiet sobs was heard clearly through the tablet. She was crying softly, brokenly, calling his name as if he were the only thing anchoring her to this world.

Caden straightened. “Come,” he said to the boy. “We’re leaving.”

Before he turned away, he shot me a hard look, like a blade meant to remind me of my place.

They were gone seconds later.

The room felt big and empty in their absence, as though all warmth had been pulled out with them.

I let out a laugh that had no humor in it, no release, only disbelief at how thoroughly my life had been reduced to something small and laughable.

A mate who had never truly been mine.

A child who had never belonged to me.

A family I had imagined into existence because the truth had been too cruel to face.

My fingers trembled as I reached for my communicator.

“Rhea,” I said when the link connected. “I need your help. I’m dissolving the bond.”

There was a stunned silence on the other end—then an explosion of sound.

“Nyra? Moon above, Nyra—have you finally woken up? We thought you were gone. Eight years, you vanished from the world, buried yourself in that pack, erased your name, your rank, your power. We thought Blackridge had devoured you whole.”

I closed my eyes.

Maybe it had.

Long ago, I had found Caden half-dead on the borderlands, hunted by rogues who wanted his blood and his claim. I had stepped between him and their blades without thinking. One strike had shredded the tendons in my hand. The healers saved it, but I was never the same.

I lost my blade.

My speed.

My standing.

Healing had been the one thing I could still control—but even that began to slip. My senses dulled, my precision wavered, and the flow of power I once commanded with ease turned unstable beneath my hands. Eventually, I stopped taking on critical cases altogether.

Eight years of silence.

Eight years of pretending that sacrifice was the same thing as love.

“If you want the bond dissolved,” Rhea said gently, grounding me, “we’ll make it happen.”

“How long?” I asked.

“For most packs? A week. For an Alpha like Caden… a moon cycle. Maybe less if he doesn’t contest.”

“Fine.”

I severed the link and stared up at the ceiling, watching the moonlight crawl slowly across the stone.

If something was never truly mine, then I would not cling to it anymore.

One month.

After that, I would no longer be Luna of Blackridge.

Outside the infirmary, I later learned through our pack link, the boy tugged at Caden’s hand.

“Is she really angry?” he asked. “Are you going to break the bond?”

Caden scoffed quietly. “She won’t.”

He believed it with absolute certainty.

Caden believed I had no family. No allies. No place beyond Blackridge. Eight years of isolation had stripped me of everything except him. Without the pack, I would crumble, I would beg, I would return.

That was what he believed.

The boy hesitated, then whispered, “If you did… that wouldn’t be so bad. Then Delilah could be my mother. And maybe I wouldn’t have to take those painful shots anymore.”

Caden’s jaw tightened. “Enough. Let’s go.”

By evening, the footage was everywhere.

My den—my home—was nothing but blackened stone and ash. The fire had eaten everything. Clothes. Instruments. Memories. It felt like something that was planned, as though fate itself had reached down and burned the last thread tying me to that life.

I didn’t even need to pack.

My arm was shattered, bound in heavy casts, but I refused to remain in the infirmary. By afternoon, I discharged myself.

Rhea sent a driver.

I waited in the main hall when a sudden cry cut through the air.

A little girl collapsed nearby, clutching her chest, her breath coming in thin, panicked gasps. Instinct flooded my senses.

This was not ordinary pain.

This was respiratory failure.

I dragged myself toward her, lowering carefully despite the pain screaming through my arm. Her face was pale, lips tinged faintly blue, eyes squeezed shut in terror.

The signs were unmistakable.

I had seen this before, and I had managed it.

I didn’t hesitate. My wolf surged forward, sharp and commanding, drowning out everything else.

I reached into my coat and drew out the silver needles—fang-thin lunar spikes forged for our kind, etched to bite into corrupted flesh and hold it still.

With swift precision, I drove them into the girl’s spine and chest, anchoring the fracture in her life force.

The moment the needles sank in, my healing poured through them, silver-bright and unrelenting.

Her ragged breathing steadied beneath my hands as her body obeyed my will instead of death.

Slowly, mercifully, color returned to her cheeks. Her breathing steadied.

Only then did I allow myself to breathe.

A shadow fell over us.

Strong hands reached down, and I looked up into a face I recognized immediately.

Azrael Storm.

Coldly handsome. Sharp-eyed. A dominant presence that bent the space around him without effort. The Alpha of Stormhold.

Rumor said he had a daughter.

Rumor never named the mother.

I knew now that that was true.

“Wait,” I said quietly.

I removed the needles one by one before nodding. “You can lift her.”

His gaze lingered on me, something dark and unreadable flickering there. Clearly, he hadn’t expected this from the disgraced Luna of Blackridge.

The girl opened her eyes and reached for him weakly. “Daddy…”

Azrael gathered her into his arms instantly, his voice dropping into something gentle and fierce all at once. “I’ve got you, little storm.”

He looked at me. “Thank you, Luna Nyra.”

The title sounded very wrong.

Soon, I would not be anyone’s Luna.

He turned away to follow the healers, and when he glanced back again, I was already gone.

Inside the vehicle, Rhea studied me carefully. “You look like you survived a war.”

I let out a quiet, ironic laugh.

“How close is the dissolution?” I asked.

“Already moving,” she said. “The Moon grants Alphas authority, not immunity. Blood murder, oath-breaking before the Moon, and bonds forged through deceit still demand a reckoning.”

I nodded. I didn’t care about territory or wealth.

I was just tired.

Tired of obedience.

Tired of silence.

Tired of being a ghost in my own life.

“In one month,” I said softly, “I take my name back.”

Caden’s POV

I took Delilah to the Blackridge villa instead of the pack estate.

It wasn’t a conscious decision at first, more instinct than plan. The villa sat high above the treeline, warded and quiet, removed from the elders, the healers, and every corridor that still smelled faintly of Nyra.

No one questioned my choice. They rarely did. I was Alpha, after all.

The moment Delilah stepped inside, her delight filled the space like warmth.

She turned slowly, taking in the obsidian floors polished to a mirror shine, the silver-veined walls etched with old dominance runes, the high windows that overlooked miles of forest territory. Her scent lifted, and threaded with excitement.

“Caden,” she breathed, smiling fully. “This place is beautiful.”

I slid my hands into my pockets, satisfaction settling easily into my chest. “From now on, this is home.”

It felt correct, as though I were simply restoring something that should have been this way all along.

Delilah laughed softly and crossed the room without hesitation. She rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss to my cheek with unrestrained affection, certain of her place.

The warmth startled me.

And for one brief, irritating moment, Nyra crossed my mind.

Nyra had never done this. She never reached first, never claimed space so openly.

Her affection had always been measured, restrained, as if she were afraid to take up too much of my attention. Even when she smiled, there had been a distance to her, something held back. I used to tell myself it was dignity. Luna composure.

Now, looking back, I wondered if it had been caution.

The thought annoyed me.

Why was she surfacing now, of all times?

“Caden?” Delilah tapped my arm lightly. “You’re not listening again.”

I blinked and looked down at her. “What?”

“I said we should celebrate tonight. I want Ash Chilli Broth.”

I paused.

Nyra had always forbidden spicy food. She claimed it would aggravate my stomach, that it would trigger the old pain I used to suffer from when I was younger.

She’d forced herbal broths on me instead—dark, bitter things that smelled like forest rot and tasted worse.

I’d hated those soups. Especially the way she watched me until I finished every bowl.

But I drank them anyway.

And now that I thought about it, my wolf hadn’t troubled me in years. Not once since…

I stopped myself.

Since Nyra.

The realization sat there, unwanted.

Perhaps she’d exaggerated. Perhaps it had been another way to control me, to manage my habits while playing the role of the devoted Luna. She had always liked order.

I smiled faintly at Delilah . “We’ll eat whatever you want.”

Her eyes brightened immediately. Darien echoed his enthusiasm, declaring loudly that he wanted to try spicy food too. Delilah laughed, clearly pleased, and encouraged him with teasing warmth.

I watched them and felt a quiet sense of rightness settle in.

This was how things should have been; simple, uncomplicated, free of constant restraint.

Dinner arrived steaming and heavy with spice. The scent clung to the air, sharp and bold, nothing like Nyra’s carefully measured meals. Darien ate too fast, desperate to prove himself, his face flushing as his lips numbed.

He forced a grin through the burn that I knew was affecting his lips, glancing at Delilah for approval.

It was both amusing and sweet at the same time.

She praised him gently, laughed when his eyes watered, dabbed his mouth with a napkin like a real mother would.

I ate more than I should have.

I told myself it was freedom. Proof that I wasn’t fragile, that Nyra’s rules had been unnecessary. That I hadn’t needed her constant hovering, her watchful concern.

When the plates were cleared, I leaned back on the sofa and closed my eyes.

That was when the pain struck.

It came suddenly, sharp and vicious, twisting low in my abdomen like a blade driven in without warning. My breath caught, a harsh sound tearing from my throat before I could stop it.

No.

I shifted, pressing a hand to my stomach as heat bloomed beneath my ribs, curling inward, tightly. The pain was familiar in a way that made my chest constrict.

I hadn’t felt this in years.

My vision dimmed slightly at the edges.

Oh great goddess, please not now.

I straightened slowly, forcing my expression smooth even as another wave rolled through me, sharper than the last. Sweat prickled at my temples. I could feel my pulse in my ears.

Delilah turned toward me, concern flickering across her face. “Caden? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

The lie tasted bitter.

The pain dug deeper, mocking my certainty. It dragged memories up with it, nights spent doubled over while Nyra knelt beside me, calm hands steady as she pressed precise points along my abdomen, murmuring instructions to breathe, to endure.

I used to accuse her of fussing, of exaggerating the problem.

Yet the pain had always faded under her care.

Now it burned, unchecked.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to show weakness. An Alpha did not falter over something so trivial.

Still, the ache tightened, coiling like something long dormant and newly awakened.

A thought crept in, unwelcome and persistent.

The bond.

I hadn’t felt its usual background pull since she left the infirmary. The faint stabilizing presence, the subtle alignment that had always existed beneath my skin, was… thinner. Frayed.

I dismissed the idea immediately.

Nyra wouldn’t dare dissolve the bond. She didn’t have the will for it. She had no allies, no standing beyond Blackridge. She would sulk, rage quietly, maybe cry for a few days.

Then she would come back.

She always did.

Another surge of pain ripped through me, harsher this time, stealing the air from my lungs. I pressed my palm harder against my stomach, my fingers digging in as if I could physically restrain it.

I forced myself upright, drawing on dominance, on habit, on the unshakable belief that I was still in control..

Whatever this was, it would pass. I would deal with it like I always did.

Still, as the pain lingered and refused to fade, a sliver of unease took root.

Nyra had never been wrong about my body…

Nyra’s POV

Rhea drove me to the apartment under my name, the one place in the city that had never belonged to the Blackridge pack.

It wasn’t large. Two bedrooms, narrow hallways, old stone walls that still held the faint scent of dust and time. But the location was good, tucked between ancient trees and far enough from pack territory that no one came here by accident.

My father had left it to me, despite the fact that he wasn't in support of my sudden disappearance.

After I got mated to Caden, I moved out without argument. I never rented it out. Never sold it. The space carried too many memories of my parents, their laughter, their voices, the quiet certainty that I had once been loved without condition.

It was the only thing they’d left behind that hadn’t been taken from me.

I should probably go and see them soon, I thought bitterly. How many years had it been?

As I pushed the door of the vehicle open and shifted my weight carefully onto my crutch, Rhea glanced at me through the rearview mirror, a crooked grin pulling at her mouth.

“Feeling miserable yet?” she asked lightly. “Because if you are, I can take you out. Food, drinks—something reckless to celebrate the end of your bond.”

I paused, then looked back at her. “No. I’m in an excellent mood. Leaving an Alpha who never chose me feels liberating.” I gestured toward the building. “But I will need help cleaning.”

She laughed under her breath. “That, I can do.”

We climbed the old five-story building together. There was no elevator, only narrow stairs worn smooth by decades of footsteps.

Years ago, I’d replaced the lock with a biometric ward keyed to my paw prints, a quiet act of defiance after I’d lost everything else that defined me.

The door opened easily.

Dust coated every surface. The air smelled stale, untouched, but not hostile. I stood there for a moment, absorbing the silence, feeling something settle in my chest.

I was about to speak when my comm-tablet buzzed.

An unfamiliar number showed on the screen.

I frowned and answered without speaking.

“Nyra?”

The voice was deep. Steady. Controlled. It carried a weight that tugged at something in my memory.

“Yes?” I said cautiously. “Who is this?”

“Where are you?” he asked.

Recognition hit a second later. “You’re Azrael Storm.”

My brows drew together. “How did you get this number? And what do you want?”

A soft breath passed through the line, measured, as though he were choosing his words carefully. “Akari had another episode. The family doctor couldn’t stabilize her this time. You treated her before and it went successfully. I was hoping you could see her again. Since your leg is injured, we’ll come to you.”

I remembered the way his gaze had flicked to my cast in the infirmary. Instead of summoning me to Stormhold, he was offering to bring his child to my door.

That alone left a mark.

My thoughts drifted to the fragile little girl on the hospital floor, gasping for breath, eyes wide with fear. My chest tightened.

Years ago, I had lost my own daughter—taken before she ever drew breath, before I ever held her. Sometimes I wondered if that loss had hollowed me out permanently, or if it had simply carved space for a different kind of tenderness.

I couldn’t refuse.

“…Alright,” I said quietly. “Come over.”

I gave him the address and ended the call.

Rhea stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Storm? As in Stormhold?”

I flicked her forehead with what little strength I had. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not ‘anything.’ He’s a father. And she’s a patient.”

She snorted. “That’s what you said about Caden once.”

I ignored her.

Azrael arrived thirty minutes later, carrying his daughter in his arms.

I had already prepared a makeshift bed in the living room, cushions layered carefully, blankets warmed near the heater.

Akari lay pale and damp with sweat, small whimpers slipping from her lips even in half-sleep.

The sight hit me harder than I expected.

Darien used to look exactly like this.

I had nursed him through countless episodes, holding him steady while his body betrayed him, whispering reassurances through clenched fear.

Caden had always stood to the side, impatient, frustrated, accusing me of exaggeration, of torturing the child, of delaying his “recovery” by fussing too much.

Azrael stood near the bed now, tall and sharply built, his presence filling the small room without effort. Long legs, broad shoulders, a stillness that spoke of restrained power rather than dominance.

It made me swallow.

“She fell ill after dinner,” he said. “The symptoms are the same. The doctors can’t find a permanent solution.”

Helplessness edged his voice, carefully controlled but unmistakable.

I nodded. “Let me look.”

I knelt beside Akari, soothing her gently, letting my voice guide her breathing. My hands moved on instinct, guided by years of repetition and quiet study. Silver needles. Pressure points. Patience.

Ten minutes later, her breathing steadied. Color returned to her cheeks. The tension in her small body eased.

Her eyes fluttered open, dark and curious, settling on my face without fear.

Such a sweet child.

“Akari,” I said softly, “you’re safe. It’s over.”

She nodded, timid but calm.

I pushed myself upright slowly with my crutch. “Normally, an episode like this shouldn’t recur so soon. She must’ve eaten something that triggered it.”

Azrael’s expression darkened. He made a call immediately, his tone clipped and precise. “Check tonight’s meal. Every ingredient.”

When the call ended, silence settled between us.

“You can take her home now,” I said. “She’ll be fine.”

That was when my stomach betrayed me.

A low, unmistakable growl echoed in the room.

I froze.

Heat crawled up my neck. Of all possible moments.

I hadn’t eaten all day. I’d cooked earlier, waiting for Caden and the boy, clinging to the idea of family until it collapsed completely. Then the infirmary. Then the drive here.

Azrael let out a quiet chuckle—not mocking, just human.

“Forgive me,” he said gently. “I took more of your time than I should have.”

“It’s fine,” I said, forcing composure. “If you leave now, I can manage.”

But he didn’t move.

“I already ordered food,” he said calmly, settling onto the couch like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I hope you don’t mind.”

I stared at him, speechless.

You already crossed the line, I thought faintly. What am I supposed to say now?

Caden’s POV

Sweat soaked through my shirt, clinging cold against my skin as another wave of pain tore through my abdomen.

I folded forward on the couch, teeth gritted, claws half-unsheathed as my wolf surged restlessly beneath my ribs.

This was really happening again.

The pain was sharp, twisting, familiar in a way that sent a pulse of unease through me. I had felt this before—years ago, before the bond settled into my bones, before Nyra’s presence had become a constant, stabilizing hum beneath my skin.

Back then, she had given me something. Herbs, pressure, calm hands moving with practiced certainty.

The pain had vanished almost instantly.

Nyra.

The name surfaced before I could stop it.

I fumbled for my comm-tablet, fingers slick with sweat, and activated the link.

“The number you have reached is unavailable."

The words echoed in my ears.

I stared at the tablet, disbelief freezing me in place.

Unavailable?

She blocked me?

A surge of anger shot through my chest, hot and sharp, flaring my wolf’s hackles. How dare she cut me off? How dare she think she could sever contact like this, as if she weren’t still bound to me?

The fury only worsened the pain. My stomach clenched violently, forcing a groan from my throat as I doubled over again, breath coming in short, broken gasps.

Then Delilah burst into the room.

“Caden!” she cried. “Something’s wrong—he’s having a reaction!”

She rushed toward me, the boy limp in her arms.

His face was flushed an alarming red, rashes blooming across his skin as his breathing hitched in uneven, frightened gasps. My heart lurched.

Him too?

Delilah froze when she saw me on the couch, pale and shaking. “Caden—what’s wrong with you?”

I forced myself upright, every movement a battle. “The food,” I rasped. “It must’ve been too much spicy.”

Before I could say anything else, she collapsed beside me, sobbing into her hands.

“I didn’t know this would happen,” she cried. “I just wanted tonight to be special. I’m so sorry—so sorry—”

Her crying grated against my skull, each sound driving the pain deeper. My head throbbed, vision swimming.

If Nyra were here, she wouldn’t be crying.

She’d already be fixing it.

The thought hit hard enough to steal my breath.

Damn it.

Why was she in my head again? Did she really think blocking me would make me chase her?

My anger flared, sharp and irrational.

I snarled the order into the comm-tablet. “Get me an ambulance. Now.”

The infirmary was chaos.

Healers moved quickly, voices clipped and professional, but nothing they gave me worked. The painkillers dulled nothing. My stomach twisted relentlessly, like my insides were being wrung out.

I lost my temper.

“Are you all useless?” I roared, slamming my fist against the bed. “You can’t even handle a minor stomach issue?”

One of the aides flinched. Ned stepped closer, lowering his voice carefully.

“Alpha… perhaps we should contact Luna Nyra. She’s treated this condition before.”

“Shut up.”

The words came out harsher than I intended, my face darkening as I turned away.

So that was her game. Withholding treatment to make a point. To force me to acknowledge her value.

No.

I would not crawl back.

I would not beg.

Eventually though, far too slowly, the pain dulled to something bearable. The boy’s allergic reaction was brought under control as well.

We looked like survivors of a battle.

Darien lay pale and exhausted in the infirmary bed, eyes glassy. I sat hunched on the nearby couch, head pounding, and my body heavy with weakness I refused to acknowledge.

My wolf kept scolding me in my head, but I ignored him.

“Father,” Darien whispered hoarsely. “Can I have some water?”

I grimaced, irritation flaring despite myself. “Can’t you see I’m sick too?”

Why was he asking me? Ungrateful child.

Delilah rushed forward immediately. “Don’t be upset with him. I’ll get it.”

She returned moments later, holding the cup to his lips.

He took one sip—then gagged and spat it out.

“It’s bitter!” he cried weakly. “I want sweet water!”

Delilah stared at the cup, confusion flooding her face. “It’s just water. It isn’t bitter.”

“It is! I don’t want it!”

He kicked weakly, tears spilling over.

My patience snapped. My head felt like it was splitting open.

Ned cleared his throat softly. “Alpha… when Darien was ill before, Luna Nyra always gave him honey water.”

Delilah looked helpless. “Where do we get honey?”

“Go buy some,” I snapped.

When the jar arrived, Delilah mixed the water quickly and offered it to him again.

One sip.

He gagged harder this time, sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s wrong! It doesn’t taste the same!”

Delilah froze, tears streaming down her face. “Caden… what do we do?”

I rubbed my temples, pulse pounding behind my eyes.

How would I know?

Nyra had always handled this. She never asked for help. Never complained. So I never learned.

The realization sat heavy and ugly in my chest.

I nearly snapped at the boy, but exhaustion overtook him before my temper could. His cries faded into uneven breathing as sleep claimed him.

I sagged back against the couch, drained.

For the first time in years, nothing bent to my will.

The boy wouldn’t listen.

Delilah couldn’t cope.

And I, Alpha of Blackridge, felt like I was sinking.

Ned returned quietly. “Sir, there’s an issue with the southern trade project.”

I stood abruptly. “Stay here. I need to deal with it.”

Delilah stared at me, with red and swollen eyes. “You’re leaving? It’s so late. What am I supposed to do alone?”

She had never cared for Darien by herself. Not once.

I exhaled sharply. “Nyra is still upset. She’ll be back in a few days once she cools off. Until then, you’ll manage.”

She hesitated, then nodded weakly.

I turned away, forcing certainty into my steps.

Nyra would return.

She always did.

She had nowhere else to go.

I told myself that as I walked out of the infirmary, ignoring the faint, unsettling truth pressing against my ribs…

For the first time, the bond did not answer when I reached for it.