“Father knew?” The question escaped before I could stop it.
“He suspected but could never prove it. He changed laws to protect omegas because of her.” Lucinda’s smile was cruel as she advanced slightly, testing my reaction. “Every kindness he showed you was guilt over her death. Every time he looked at you, he saw the woman I let die. But what could he do? Accusehis pregnant wife of murder? Destroy the pack’s stability for a dead omega?”
The pieces of my childhood clicked into place with painful clarity. My father’s distance despite his duty. The way he’d push for omega protection laws with passion that seemed personal. How he’d sometimes stare at me with such sadness before turning away. He’d known or suspected but couldn’t prove his wife’s crime without destroying everything.
“Laziel was mine. My blood, my child, my truth in a marriage built on lies.” Tears finally came, but they were for Laziel, not remorse. “He deserved to be heir, not you. He was the true son, not the bastard who came first.”
The cruelty of it, the calculated emotional starvation of a child, made my wolf snarl. She’d raised me in the same house as her beloved son, forcing me to watch him receive the love I’d never have, all while knowing I was actually the elder.
“You encouraged his obsession with Rhea.”
“I thought if he claimed her first, history wouldn’t repeat..” Her laugh was broken as she raised the pipe higher. “Instead, you killed him for her. My baby boy. Just like your father would have killed for Serena if honor hadn’t held him back.”
“I killed him because he threatened my mate.”
“Your mate.” She spat the word and charged, pipe swinging toward my head.
I caught it easily, wrenching it from her grasp and tossing it aside. But she wasn’t finished. Nails raked across my face asshe attacked with bare hands, decades of suppressed rage finally exploding. We grappled, her smaller form surprisingly strong, fueled by madness and grief.
“Enough.” Rhea’s voice, weak but firm, cut through our struggle. “You’re wrong about everything, but you’ll never see it. Your hatred has blinded you to love.”
Lucinda made one final lunge, not for a weapon but for Rhea herself, hands extended like claws toward my mate’s throat. I caught her wrist easily, the bones fragile under my grip. For a moment, we were frozen. The woman who’d raised me with calculated coldness and the son she’d never wanted, the elder who’d been forced to pretend to be younger.
She twisted in my grip, surprisingly strong for her age, fueled by rage and grief. Her free hand clawed at my eyes, spittle flying as she screamed about omega whores and stolen birthrights. But as we struggled, she stumbled backward. Her heel caught on the uneven concrete, the same debris she’d navigated so carefully before.
Time slowed again as she fell, arms windmilling for balance that wouldn’t come. I reached out instinctively, despite everything, but momentum carried her beyond my grasp. Her eyes went wide with surprise, then fear, as she realized what was happening.
The sickening crack when her head hit the floor echoed through the warehouse, sharp and final. She’d fallen hard, the angle wrong, neck twisted in a way that made Carlton curse softly. Blood pooled beneath her silver hair, spreading like all the secrets she’d kept.
I knelt beside her, hands hovering uncertainly. Even now, even after everything, she was the only mother I’d known. The woman who’d raised me to believe I was younger, lesser, unwanted, all while knowing I’d been born first.
Her eyes found mine one last time, and I saw not the mother who’d raised me but a woman consumed by bitterness until it killed her. Blood bubbled from her lips as she tried to speak.
“Damon...” Her voice was whisper-thin.
“I’m here. Despite everything, I’m here.” I took her hand, feeling how cold it already was.
“Should have... been heir... my boy... not the bastard...” Her breathing grew labored, rattling in her chest. “Your omega... will destroy... you too...”
Her final words came on her last breath, prophecy or curse, I couldn’t tell. Her eyes went vacant, hand slack in mine. The woman who’d raised me without love, who’d shaped me through absence and coldness was gone.
I closed her eyes gently, then stood. Around us, Carlton’s team remained silent, witnesses to a tragedy decades in the making. But I had no time for grief or processing. Rhea needed medical attention, needed the chains removed, needed safety after this nightmare.
I turned back to my mate, ready to free her, to carry her to help. But the sight that greeted me drove everything else from my mind.
Rhea made a pained sound, face contorting with something beyond drug effects. Her body tensed, back arching against the chains. When I looked down, there was blood between her legs, spreading across the concrete in a pattern that made my heart stop.
“The twins,” she gasped, hands clutching her belly. “Something’s wrong with the twins.”
41
— • —
Damon
“Move! MOVE!” I roared at Carlton’s team as I scooped Rhea into my arms, her blood leaving a trail across the warehouse floor.
The chains fell away under my claws, metal no match for desperate strength. She curled into me, face pressed against my chest, small sounds of pain escaping with each breath. The twins. Our children. The thought of losing them after everything we’d survived made my wolf howl with rage I couldn’t voice.
