~Maeve~
By the time my so-called Alpha husband finally showed his face at the hospital, my four-year-old daughter was fighting pneumonia in a room just two doors down.
I'd called him twelve times before that. Not once did he pick up. Since I had no wolf form, he'd never bothered to mark my neck. And I had no mind-link to reach him through.
And now here stood Rowan, immaculate in a black suit, his mistress draped on his arm.
"Bianca needs a transfusion," he said. "Your blood type matches."
In that moment, the thunderstorm hammering against the hospital windows wasn't the only thing shaking—so was whatever was left of my exhausted heart.
"I'm sorry... what?" I whispered, incredulous.
I was sitting on a hospital bench, hair disheveled, clothes still damp from the rain. When a mother runs down a county road at midnight carrying her feverish daughter, appearance is the least of her concerns.
But when your husband doesn't care about that either, it's a different kind of wound entirely.
Rowan repeated flatly, "You heard me. Go give Bianca your blood. Now."
"You came here just for my blood?" I stared at him, fury and grief tangled in my chest.
"When did you become so full of questions? I said Bianca's hurt. We don't have time to waste on you."
"Your daughter is in the ICU, Alpha," I said, the anger I'd been suppressing finally breaking through. "Daisy is burning up with fever, and her father is only concerned about his mistress's little scratch. What kind of father are you?"
"Watch your tone, Maeve." Rowan's face darkened. "If it weren't for your lack of wolf form, do you think an Alpha's daughter would struggle to fight off a simple cold? This is because of your defective genes."
"You... what?" Something inside me shattered. "How can you say this is my fault?"
My marriage to Alpha Rowan never began with dignity. I was an unfavored Omega who got pregnant after a one-night stand with an Alpha. He married me but never granted me the respect due a Luna.
All these years, I could overlook how he ignored me, how his mother tormented me, how the pack gossiped about me.
But I never imagined that when our daughter lay critically ill, he wouldn't spare a single thought for Daisy's condition—and would instead blame everything on me.
"Save your tears, Maeve." Rowan loosened his tie. "The whole pack knows you're useless—can't even produce a son. Are you really going to stand there and tell me Daisy's pneumonia isn't because of your negligence?"
Those words cut deeper than any claw. I felt my eyes burn with hot, humiliating tears.
He knew perfectly well that Vivienne had taken all the servants away this weekend. I hadn't noticed Daisy's illness sooner because his mother had punished me with cleaning the entire villa—I'd been so exhausted I nearly collapsed on the stairs.
"You... how can you twist the truth like this..." I was shaking with rage, desperate to slap him. "Is caring for our daughter my responsibility alone?"
"I don't have the patience for this," he said, as if I were the one being unreasonable. "Last time I ask you—go or not?"
"No!" The word tore from my throat. "I will not leave my daughter again. Find someone else."
The air went dead silent. In that silence, Bianca's exaggerated gasp was jarringly loud.
Of course—no one expected the docile Omega Luna to openly defy her Alpha.
Rowan's Alpha pressure slammed into me.
"Maeve."
A red flash flickered in his eyes. The next second, a searing pain erupted beneath the skin of my right wrist.
I gasped, gripping the edge of the table. The silver "Marriage Mark" was burning—the one Rowan had personally seared into me on our wedding day.
After all, for an Omega without a wolf spirit, a true mate bond was impossible. I'd once thought that brand was a symbol of our union. Now I understood—it was just another leash he'd ensured he could pull.
"Go give blood, Maeve." His voice was low, laced with unquestionable command.
Then pain exploded from the brand, coiling around my bones like steel wire.
"No." The word barely squeezed past my lips.
My mind fought desperately, but my body had already turned toward the door.
I dug my nails into the bench until one snapped—yet my feet kept moving forward.
Bianca stepped aside to let me pass. On her carefully powdered pale face, the delight in her eyes was unmistakable.
From an angle no one else could see, she mouthed at me:
I win again.
*
The transfusion room lights were blindingly white, and the dizziness from the rain grew worse. I watched my blood flow through the clear tubing, drop by drop, into the bag. The nurse reminded me to squeeze the rubber ball in my hand.
Sometimes, I wanted to just let go completely. But then I'd think of Daisy's small face pressed against me, shivering in the rain, and I'd clench my teeth again.
I had to survive. I must survive. For Daisy—and for myself.
If only I had a wolf. Then I could tear off this brand without hesitation and take Daisy far away.
In that fleeting, almost imperceptible moment, something binding my bones seemed to loosen. But before I could grasp it, the nurse lowered my sleeve and told me I could rest.
Rest? I had no mind for rest. Daisy would be waking soon—I needed to get back to her.
I forced myself upright and headed down the corridor toward her room. Bianca was waiting at the end of the hall.
"I wanted to thank you," she said.
"Move."
She deliberately blocked my path. "Actually, I didn't really need the transfusion—but Rowan is so cautious."
Her hand drifted to her still-flat stomach, her smile spreading slowly. "I'm pregnant."
The floor seemed to tilt beneath me.
I stared at her. "What did you say?"
"Rowan is thrilled," she said provocatively. "The doctor says it's a boy. After all these years, the Ashridge pack finally has the heir they've been waiting for."
"Heir?" I spat the word. "Don't dress up the bastard in your belly with such a noble title. You're a homewrecker, Bianca Miller."
Her face went white for a moment, then quickly composed itself. "You don't actually think you're Rowan's Luna, do you? Does anyone acknowledge that? Even that sickly daughter of yours—in Rowan's eyes, she's nothing but a burden."
My hand moved on its own, closing around Bianca's slender throat—but I controlled the pressure, leaving no marks.
"Say one more word about my daughter, and I promise the next time I'll snap your neck outright."
Before she could cry out, I released her and stepped back. Then I walked away without looking back.
But my heart was far from calm.
Once, I'd naively believed that if I was obedient enough, Daisy could have a family.
But tonight, I finally saw the truth.
My silence had never protected my daughter.
It had only taught them that no matter how they treated us, we would endure.
I reached Daisy's door and pressed my hand against it.
My husband had already taken my blood.
But he would not take my daughter.
For the first time in six years, I stopped wondering how much more I could endure.
I began planning our escape.
