chapter 3

My heart dropped. My voice trembled uncontrollably. “What did you just say?”

I followed the wolf servant, running all the way to the backyard.

There, I saw Clara and Elsie scanning the area near the apple tree, while Saddie and Autumn crouched beneath it, burying something in the dirt.

Clara looked reluctant as she gave orders.

“Hurry up before someone shows up…”

My mind buzzed the moment I saw a small silver bracelet lying on the ground. I lost control and charged forward.

“What are you burying?” I shouted.

My sudden appearance startled all of them.

Clara turned pale, and Saddie stepped in front of me. “Luna, don’t get upset. We’re just burying a dead cat, that’s all.”

I bent down, trembling, and picked up the bracelet. “This is Sasha’s. Why is it here?”

Saddie quickly explained, “Luna, how would we know? Maybe one of the servants dropped it while walking her around the backyard.”

She moved deliberately to block my view, hiding whatever they were trying to cover under the tree.

“Get out of my way,” I snarled.

I didn’t believe for a second it was a dead cat.

I shoved them aside and stared at the freshly turned soil, then dropped to my knees and dug with my bare hands.

Anyone who tried to stop me—I would bite them.

I clawed at the dirt until my hands were raw and bleeding.

Then, beneath the soil, I saw my daughter’s tiny face—so peaceful, as if she were just sleeping.

My body collapsed to the ground. I couldn’t breathe.

“Why?”

Saddie rubbed her nose and muttered, “Luna, I’m sorry. Sasha had a high fever last night… she didn’t make it.”

“No!” I screamed. “That’s not possible!”

“She was fine. Last night she was still smiling in my arms before falling asleep. How could she suddenly get sick and die?”

My hands covered in blood and dirt, I gently lifted her.

She was so quiet—like she really was just asleep.

But… why wasn’t she breathing?

I gasped for air as my tears fell hard onto her face, the pain inside me unbearable.

I carried her back to my room and laid her carefully on the bed, rocking her, singing the lullaby I always did—over and over until my voice went hoarse.

It felt like if I just kept singing like this, she was just asleep.

Madam Dorothy sent someone to check on me. When she saw my disheveled state, she wrinkled her nose and covered her mouth.

“Look at yourself. Is this what a Luna of the Darkridge Pack should look like? That little she-wolf couldn’t even be an heir. So what if she’s dead?”

She even had her servants try to take Sasha from my arms. Anyone who came near, I attacked like a madwoman. They would not touch my daughter again.

When Jackson heard about Sasha’s death, he returned from killing rogues at the border. Still in bloodstained clothes, he rushed to comfort me.

“Harp… no one wanted this to happen.

“But I asked the shaman. Sasha wasn’t killed. She really did die from illness.”

His eyes were red, and his voice full of grief as he held me close.

“You’re hurting yourself too much. I promise, we’ll have another. A second child, a third—okay?”

I shoved him away coldly. “No. Never again.”

My sobs turned into bitter laughter. “Jackson, they’re all pregnant with your children, and my only daughter is dead! I will find out who killed Sasha!”

Jackson frowned. He looked at me like I was just being hysterical.

After sitting in the room for a while, he left without another word.

That night, while dressing Sasha in a new outfit I’d sewn for her, I heard sounds of sex from the room next door.

“Alpha, harder! Don’t stop! You’re amazing—I’ve already come so many times!”

Saddie’s voice.

My nails dug deep into my palms, blood warm in my hands—yet I felt no pain.

I couldn’t believe it. My daughter had just died, and Jackson still had the appetite to sleep with that whore.

I built a small altar for Sasha, kept vigil by her side, and read scriptures for her soul.

I prayed that in her next life, she’d be born into a good family—one with a mother who could protect her.

The next morning, I left the altar for just a short time. When I came back, Sasha was gone.

I heard a bear roar in the distance. My chest tightened. I ran toward the sound.

When I saw what was happening, my eyes widened in horror and I screamed, “No!”

Autumn was holding Sasha’s small body—throwing her into the bear enclosure.

I threw myself forward, trying to shield her, but I was too late.

I watched as the black bear tore my daughter apart.

Everything went black, and I collapsed on the spot.

When I came to, Autumn was crouched beside me, her voice mocking.

“Luna, don’t blame me. It was Madam Dorothy’s order. She didn’t like the smell of that dead baby. So she told me to feed your daughter to the bear.”

As I watched Autumn walk away, I wished I could shift—just once—so I could tear out her throat.

Jackson came over, carrying a bowl of dark herbal soup, forcing it toward me.

“Harp, the shaman prepared this for you. You’ve been through a lot. Drink it and get some rest.”

I knocked the bowl to the floor. “I’m not sick! Jackson, your mother killed Sasha and had her thrown to the bears. I swear I will never forgive you!”

His expression darkened. “Harper, I know you’re struggling, but you can’t go around making wild accusations. My mother prefers boys, sure, but she only wants what’s best for the Darkridge Pack. How can you say something so vile about her?”

He seemed to realize he’d gone too far and softened his voice.

“Just rest for now. I’ll come back tonight to check on you.”

But night didn’t come before it happened.

As I mourned at Sasha’s altar, the door burst open with a crash.

Jackson stormed in, eyes glowing red—and lunged at me, hands tightening around my throat.