Chapter 4

Elara POV:

Damien settled Lyra and her pup into the guest room, the one right next to our master bedroom, before he finally came to find me. It was late, the moon high in the sky.

I was on the bathroom floor, my body wracked with violent waves of morning sickness. The stress, the heartbreak, it was all making the pregnancy unbearable. My own wolf, agitated beyond reason, paced the confines of my consciousness, a caged thing sensing the profound betrayal of its other half.

He found me there, pale and shaking.

"Oh, my poor love," he murmured, kneeling beside me. He gathered me into his arms, but the touch that had once been my only solace now felt like a profanation. He whispered soothing words, stroking my hair.

But then I smelled it. On his skin, in his clothes, was the lingering scent of Lyra and her child. It was a foreign smell, an invasion. It screamed that he belonged to another. My body reacted violently, and I wretched again, emptying the contents of my stomach onto the cold tiles.

"Water," I croaked, my throat raw and scraped. I was too weak to stand. "Please, Damien. I require some water."

I lay back against the cool wall, my eyes closed. I just wanted a simple glass of water.

As he was about to stand, a soft chime echoed, not in the room, but in my head. A private Mind-Link channel. It was Lyra.

"Damien? The baby won't stop crying. I need you." Her mental voice was cloying, deliberately helpless.

The request had not even fully formed in my mind before Damien's attention snapped away from me as if severed by a blade. "I'm coming," he sent back to her, his own thought a sharp, immediate reply.

He turned to me, his expression a mixture of pity and impatience. "I have to go help her," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I won't be back tonight."

He left. Just like that.

Summoning what little strength I had left, I pushed myself up, my legs trembling. I made my way to the kitchen, my hand sliding along the wall for support.

As I passed the guest room, the door was slightly ajar. I could not help but look.

And the sight-it did not break my heart, for there was nothing left to break. Instead, it hollowed out what remained, leaving a cold, echoing void where my hope had once resided.

Damien and Lyra were lying on the bed together. Between them, sleeping peacefully now, was her pup. They looked like a family. A perfect, happy, fraudulent family.

I stood there, frozen in the hallway, as Lyra's soft voice drifted through the crack in the door.

"When will you do it, Damien?" she asked. "When will you reject her?"

I saw him lean over and press a soft kiss to her forehead.

His reply was not a sound but a final, killing blow. "Soon," he promised her. "I will give you and our boy the life you deserve."