POV: Damian
The truth Maeve had given me was a poison that seeped into every corner of my life. The world had turned to ash in my mouth. That evening, I sat at the head of the long, polished dining table, a king presiding over a kingdom of ghosts. The chair to my right, the Luna's chair, was empty. It had been empty for years, but now its emptiness was a physical presence, a gaping hole in the fabric of the room.
Sylvie sat a few seats down, radiating a gentle, maternal warmth as she tried to coax a sullen, silent Nico into eating. The scene should have been peaceful, the picture of the new, stable family I had claimed to want. But it was a lie, and the silence at the table was screaming it.
I couldn't eat. The food, prepared by the finest chefs, was tasteless. My mind was a chaotic storm, replaying Maeve's words over and over. A will so absolute they would rather have their soul scatter to the winds…
"Nico, darling, just a few more bites for me?" Sylvie's voice was a soft, melodic intrusion into my dark thoughts. I looked up. She was smiling at my son, a perfect picture of patience and love. Nico just scowled and pushed a piece of steak around his plate with his fork.
Just then, Elias entered the dining room, his steps silent on the thick rug. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, his voice low and urgent. "Alpha, a message from the western border. The Granite Peak pack is testing our patrols. They smell weakness."
The moment she realized I was looking, the mask was back in place. The warm smile returned, her eyes softening as she gently stroked Nico's hair. But I had seen it. A flicker of the truth.
And it was ugly.
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