Ex-Alpha's Regret: Siren's Comeback novel Chapter 42

POV: Sylvie

I watched Seraphina walk out of the council chamber, her face a blank canvas, and I felt a thrill of absolute victory. I had won. Damian's oath, that beautiful, brutal public declaration, was my crown. He had disowned any future child from her, effectively making Nico his sole heir and clearing the path for any children I might give him. He had chosen me, completely and irrevocably, in front of the entire pack leadership.

Later, in his study, he pulled me into his arms, his relief palpable. "It's done," he murmured against my hair. "No one will question your place here again."

I reveled in his embrace, in the scent of his power and the taste of my triumph. But as the initial euphoria began to fade, a cold, slithering tendril of fear snaked its way into my heart. I knew Seraphina. I had studied her for months. Underneath that quiet, aristocratic exterior was a core of Thorne stubbornness. She was a fighter. She would not simply accept this public execution. She would not stay.

She would run.

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. She would flee, tonight, taking her secret—Damian's secret, disavowed child—with her. A runaway Luna was a scandal. A pregnant runaway Luna, carrying a child the Alpha had publicly sworn would never exist, was a catastrophe. It would be a stain on Damian's reputation that could never be erased, a source of endless gossip and political weakness. And it would be a constant, living threat to my own position. As long as that child existed, my own future, the future of any children I might have with Damian, would never be truly secure.

The timeline in my head compressed with terrifying speed. I didn't have weeks or days. I had hours. I had to act now. The child could not be allowed to leave this house. It could not be allowed to be born.

My mind, suddenly sharp and clear with a vicious purpose, focused on one person. Dr. Alistair.

"I require a solution," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Something fast. Something that could be easily mistaken for a natural, tragic accident. A miscarriage, brought on by her own fragile state."

I opened my purse and placed a heavy bag of gold coins on his sterile metal table. "For your discretion. And for your service to the future of this pack."

He stared at the gold, then back at me. After a long moment, he gave a slow, deliberate nod. He turned to his apothecary cabinet and retrieved a small, unmarked vial filled with a clear, odorless liquid. "A few drops in a warm drink," he said, his voice a low rasp. "It is derived from the Blackroot herb. It will be fast. And it will be untraceable."

He handed me the vial, his hand trembling slightly. I took it, its cool glass a perfect contrast to the hot, triumphant pulse beating in my veins.