I’ve always been Alpha Thorne’s nameless “rightful wife.”
They don’t call me Seraphina. They just call me “she”—that outsider, that unmarked “nominal partner.”
But no one knows that my blood is purer than all of theirs combined.
I come from the Northern Royal bloodline, a true inheritor of Alpha lineage.
I just abandoned everything years ago to come here for my mate.
Now, six years later, I’m ready to leave.
In seven days, a lunar eclipse will arrive, and the neutral pack borders will briefly open a passage.
That’s my only chance.
I’ve already contacted someone to help me escape. As long as I can flee this rotting land on that night, I can live again.
I carve the first mark on the doorframe.
I stare at it, lost in thought.
My son is already asleep behind me.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. He’s back.
I open the door, and familiar Alpha pheromones wash over me, but mixed with the scent of aphrodisiac vine and post-mating female musk.
That smell belongs to Liora—his stepmother. Now the entire pack is forcing them to mate, saying only she can produce the “savior’s child.”
I fight back nausea and step aside.
Thorne acts like nothing happened, casually dropping his cloak and walking over to embrace me from behind.
“Have you eaten?”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be soon.” He says, “Once she’s pregnant, I’ll marry you.”
I lift my head slightly, looking at him with cold eyes: “This is the ninetieth time, isn’t it?”
His body stiffens, and he falls silent for a moment: “…She just can’t conceive. The whole pack is watching me. I can’t escape. You know what’s in my heart…”
“I know.” I interrupt him, “I know what you want, and it’s not me.”
He tries to hold me, but I dodge before his hand can reach halfway.
“I love you most, Seraphina. Don’t make a scene.”
I laugh, a laugh devoid of warmth: “What you love is the womb that can help you inherit the throne.”
He frowns, as if stung by my words: “Can’t you speak less harshly?”
I don’t respond, just walk to the bed and sit down.
He looks at me for a few seconds, ultimately saying nothing, and turns toward the bathroom.
The sound of water splashing fills the air as he washes off that sickly sweet smell.
But I know what can’t be washed away—the marks on his body that already belong to another woman.
He comes out after his shower, wrapped in a towel, his form still tall and straight, just like when he first broke into my refugee tent six years ago.
Back then, he smiled and told me: “From today on, you’re mine.”
Now I’m the one smiling, but it’s mocking.
He approaches me: “I’ll spend the rest of tonight with you, okay?”
Suddenly, urgent knocking comes from outside: “Alpha sir, Lady Liora is suddenly unwell. Please come immediately!”
His expression changes instantly, and he throws on clothes faster than the wind.
“What’s wrong with her? Have you called a physician?” He asks as he walks, only remembering my existence when he reaches the door.
He stops and says quietly: “My father is dead. She can only rely on me. I’ll go check on her and be right back. You’re so understanding, aren’t you?”
I look at him, my lips pressed into a quiet smile.
“Wait.” I take his cloak from the hook and gently drape it over his shoulders.
“It’s cold outside. Don’t catch a chill.”
He freezes, smelling the familiar scent on the cloak, his eyes confused: “Seraphina, you…”
Bang—
I close the door.
Seven more days.
In seven days, Thorne, I won’t be waiting for you anymore.
He didn’t come back that night.
And when I touched his side of the bed, cold as frost, I still felt that worthless heartache.
Fireworks explode outside the window, the entire pack celebrating.
They think Liora is carrying a savior.
Only I know she’s carrying a monster.
