Chapter 9
Alpha Raymond eventually broke.
Under the crushing weight of the Pack Elders and high–ranking wolves who had once cheered for him, the man who rose to power only because of me–the Moon Goddess’s chosen Luna–now stood powerless, his dominance stripped away.
From the shadows of the room, I watched as Charlotte paraded back into my Luna’s cottage, reclaiming it as if she’d ever earned it. She walked with that smug sway of hers, swollen belly held like a trophy, as if my death had already erased me from this pack’s history.
Meanwhile, Raymond… gods, he was barely recognizable. His once dark, commanding
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hair had turned white overnight. His broad shoulders were nothing but jagged bone beneath his skin. He looked less like an Alpha and more like a wild beast drained of blood and life.
Every night, he clung to my cold, lifeless body like it was the only tether keeping him sane. He whispered “I’m sorry” over and over, until his voice cracked and bled raw.
When tears escaped those once–fierce eyes, he’d wipe them away in a panic, muttering to himself, “No… can’t let them fall on Grace’s face… it would disturb her…”
Sometimes, he’d drop to his knees, pressing his fevered cheek against my icy skin, pleading softly,
“Grace… wait for me. As soon as Shadowmoon has a worthy heir… I’ll follow
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The way he looked at her afterward… gods, it was like he was staring at a rotting corpse.
But Charlotte didn’t fear him. When one of her handmaidens asked if she worried about the Alpha snapping, Charlotte had laughed softly, caressing her swollen stomach like it
was a crown.
“Why would I fear him?” she scoffed. “I’m carrying the Moon Goddess’s chosen Alpha. That dead Luna proved what happens when you cross destiny. Raymond won’t dare lay a claw on me–not when this pup’s future is at stake.”
And when the pack finally slept, when no one but I could hear, Charlotte would whisper venom into the night.
“Grace,” she sneered to the empty air, “you never imagined this ending, did you? I win.
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When my son is born, I’ll dig up your bones myself and grind them to dust. Your spirit will wander, lost and tormented, for eternity. And Raymond? Once my son takes his rightful place as Alpha, Raymond will be thrown aside like filth. I’ll be the mother of the Lycan King… and I’ll trample your name under my heel forever.”
I floated there, nothing but a restless ghost bound to this cursed land, listening as if watching a cheap, grotesque play.
Charlotte had no idea…
Black, rotting tendrils of a witch’s curse coiled around her like serpents, choking out her soul. And that “heir to the throne” she worshipped? He’d been dead in her womb for weeks, his tiny body decaying, poisoned by her own greed and lies.
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I felt no rage. No grief. I was done suffering for these fools.
I was only waiting–waiting for her to die, so the Moon Goddess would finally open the gate and let my spirit rest.
And soon, the waiting would end.
When the time came for Charlotte to give birth, her screams echoed through the
entire pack lands for three endless days and nights. Her shrieks sounded like a sow being slaughtered, echoing through the frosted forests, rattling every wolf’s bones.
Buckets of blood were carried out, one after another, but no child emerged. Any normal wolf would have died long ago.
But Charlotte was no ordinary wolf anymore. Herbert’s witchcraft, laced with dark curses,
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“Raymond! Wh–what are you doing? I’m carrying the future Lycan King!”
Raymond’s grip on the blade tightened, his knuckles turning white.
“The Elders have agreed,” he said, voice a broken, guttural rasp. “We’re cutting the child out.”
His lips curled into a smile that could only be described as madness.
“I told you before… I don’t care if that bastard in your belly survives. As long as he’s born, Shadowmoon will have its heir…”
He took another slow, deliberate step toward her.
“As for you…” His eyes glowed with unholy rage. “…you should have been dead long
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ago.”
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