Coffee shouldn't smell like this—like burnt earth and bitter acid, crawling up my sinuses until my eyes water. The kitchen staff's whispers from three rooms away might as well be shouted directly into my ears. And the guard stationed outside my door? His heartbeat thrums against my skull like a second pulse, steady and maddening.
I press my palms against my closed eyelids until colors burst behind them.
Three weeks since Arthur dragged me into this nightmare. Three weeks since my body stopped being mine. The baby kicks, a sharp reminder that none of this will end when the moon wanes.
The sheets stick to my skin as I roll onto my side. The bedroom air hangs thick with the scent of wolfsbane—Reid's doing. He claims it helps mute the pack bonds for humans. All it does is make everything taste like copper and regret.
A knock at the door. Too soft for human ears to catch.
"Come in," I mutter into my pillow.
Reid enters with that unsettling quiet all the wolves have. His usual crisp shirt is rumpled today, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Dark circles bruise the skin beneath his eyes.
"Luna." He nods, hovering near the footboard like I might bolt. "You're needed downstairs."
I swallow a laugh. Needed. What a joke. "Why?"
"New Moon tonight." His fingers flex at his sides. "Security protocols."
Ah. The monthly reminder that I'm the pack's weakest link.
The hallway smells like pine and anxiety. My bare feet stick to freshly polished floors as we pass windows shuttered against the fading light. Every few steps, my stomach lurches—phantom pains echoing through the bond from wolves stationed at the perimeter. Their fear tastes like bile at the back of my throat.
Arthur waits in the war room, maps spread across the table like open wounds. Red pins mark the northern border where the Blackwater pack has been sniffing around.
He doesn't look up when I enter. "Sit."
I don't.
His nostrils flare, but his voice remains calm. "We've had sightings. Scouts testing the wards." A muscle jumps in his jaw. "They smell vulnerability."
"Because of me."
"Because of the New Moon." His golden eyes finally meet mine. "Because of the child."
The air between us crackles. I want to scream. To tear at the silk drapes until moonlight floods this tomb of a house. Instead, I dig my nails into my palms.
"You could let me go."
Arthur stills. Even Reid holds his breath.
"Michael's circling," Arthur says softly. Too softly. "Using your sister to probe our defenses." He taps a black pin near the southern tree line. "Yesterday, she left a gift at our borders. A recording device wrapped in your mother's scarf."
Ice floods my veins.
Reid shifts uncomfortably. "We should—"
A howl cuts through the night. Then another. Closer.
Arthur is at the window before I blink, his growl vibrating through the floorboards. "Eastern perimeter. Blackwater colors."
Chaos erupts. Wolves pour from hidden doorways, weapons gleaming. Reid grabs my elbow, hauling me toward the safe room as the first gunshots ring out.
Then—agony.
White-hot and searing, it rips through the bond like lightning. A guard goes down. Then another. Their pain becomes mine, their terror my terror. I collapse against the wall, retching nothing but acid and spit.
Reid's hands hover over me, uncertain. "Luna, breathe—"
"Don't touch me!" I scramble back, my vision swimming. The baby rolls violently, responding to the surge of adrenaline. For one terrifying second, I feel it—the faintest echo of something reaching back through the bond. Not just receiving. Answering.
Arthur appears in the doorway, blood streaking his shirt. His gaze locks onto mine, pupils blown wide. "What was that?"
I press a hand to my stomach, mute with shock.
The fight ends as suddenly as it began. Blackwater retreats, but the damage lingers in the way the pack moves around me now—wary glances, flared nostrils. They felt it too. Whatever passed between me and the child.
Hours later, when the house quiets and the New Moon's darkness presses against the windows, I lie awake tracing the scars on my wrist. The baby stirs, that strange energy flickering beneath my skin like trapped starlight.
Arthur's words slither through my mind. Because of the child.
Not an heir.
A weapon.
The realization settles heavy in my chest. I press a palm to my belly, feeling that unnatural warmth pulse against my hand. Outside, the wind howls through the trees—a sound too mournful to be just the wind.
For the first time, I wonder which of us is truly the monster here.