POV Odette
"What happened? Every detail. Now."
"The Savage Creek Pack." His words came like bullets. "Two hours ago. Eastern border. They knew exactly when to strike—shift change, skeleton crew." His voice cracked. "Catherine tried to hold them. She's bleeding out."
"Your sister?" The hallway tilted around me. "Catherine's dying?"
"Not if I get there in time." He tried to move past me.
"My father has resources. Military helicopters, medical teams—"
"Odette, I can't ask—"
"You're not asking. I'm telling." I grabbed his arm, dragging him toward Magnus's study. "Move!"
We burst through the doors without knocking. Magnus looked up from his papers, taking in our faces with instant understanding.
"The Savage Creek Pack attacked Devon's territory," I said before he could speak. "His Beta is critical. We need the helicopter. Now."
"How many casualties?" Magnus was already reaching for his phone.
"Three dead, seven injured, more coming in." Devon's hands clenched at his sides. "They targeted our hospital first. Destroyed half our medical supplies."
"Bastards." Magnus barked orders into the phone. "The helicopter will be ready in ten minutes. I'll send a medical team to follow."
"I'm going with him," I announced.
Magnus set down the phone slowly. "Odette—"
"My pack needs me," I said, then caught myself. "His pack. They need help."
"Will you return?" The question came soft, loaded with paternal fear. "Once you go back, will you return to me?"
"Father—"
"Answer me." His composure cracked, raw grief bleeding through. "If you leave now, will I lose you again?"
"I'll come back." The words felt true for exactly as long as it took to speak them. "I promise."
He crossed the room in three strides, pulling me into a fierce embrace. "Be careful. Both of you."
Twenty minutes later, we lifted into gray skies, rain lashing against the helicopter's windows. Devon sat rigid beside me, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.
"How bad is it really?" I asked over the rotor noise.
"Bad. They knew exactly when to hit—shift change, minimal guards." His jaw clenched. "Someone gave them information."
"You have a traitor."
"I have a dying sister!" The words exploded from him. "Everything else can wait."
The flight stretched endless, my stomach churning with more than motion sickness. Each air pocket sent fresh worry through me—about the baby, about returning to a pack that had rejected me, about Nathaniel vanishing without a word.
We touched down in the pack's main clearing, rotors still spinning as wolves converged from every direction.
"Alpha!" Jeffrey, Devon's third, reached us first. "Catherine's stable but fading. The rogues pulled back across the river but they're regrouping."
"Casualties?" Devon was already running.
"Four dead. Thompson bled out an hour ago." Jeffrey matched his pace. "Mira's at the hospital coordinating—"
"Double the patrols!" Devon commanded. "Armed positions every fifty yards. Where's Elder Leon?"
"Securing the northern perimeter."
Pack members streamed past, none sparing me a glance. Their former Luna had become invisible—erased, forgotten, irrelevant.
"Devon." I touched his arm, stopping him. "The flight... I'm not feeling well. I need to rest."
"Jeffrey, get her to the house." Devon was already moving away. "Two guards. Make sure she's safe."
Two young warriors appeared—faces I didn't recognize, probably elevated after I left. They walked me to the Alpha residence without a single word, stopping at the threshold like I carried something contagious.
"Thank you," I said.
They nodded and vanished, leaving me alone with ghosts.
The house stood exactly as I'd left it, preserved like a museum of our former life.
Our mugs still nested on the shelf—his larger one tucked protectively around mine. Devon's training jacket hung over a chair, the one I'd bought him for his birthday. The lavender candle I'd burned during my last fertility test sat on the mantle, wax pooled and frozen.
"Nothing's changed," I whispered to the empty rooms.
I climbed the stairs to our bedroom—his bedroom now. The bed still carried his scent. I collapsed onto it fully clothed, exhaustion pulling me under before I could think about the implications of being here.
* * *
Pain woke me like a knife twisting in my abdomen.
"No, no, no." I curled into myself, breathing through the sharp agony. "Please, not now."
The cramping intensified, radiating from my core outward. I tried sitting, standing, lying on my side—nothing helped. My wolf whimpered, sensing danger to our pup.
I reached for my phone to call the pack healer, then stopped. Explaining my pregnancy to Devon's pack, explaining the timeline, explaining why their former Luna carried another man's child—impossible.
"It's just stress," I told myself through gritted teeth. "The flight, the emotions, being back here."
Another wave hit, stealing my breath. I bit down on a scream, not wanting to alert the guards outside.
The pain peaked, held for an endless moment, then gradually receded to a dull throb that matched my heartbeat. I lay there panting, sweat cooling on my skin, terror replacing pain.
"Stay with me," I whispered to my belly. "Please, little one. Stay with me."
Hours crawled by. The pain faded to an ache, then to an echo. Dawn light pressed against the curtains when exhaustion finally pulled me toward sleep.
I woke to full morning sun, my body feeling like it had been filled with wet sand. Every movement came careful, testing. The baby felt... quiet. Too quiet.
"Please," I breathed, hand pressed to my stomach. "Please be okay."
Devon's house waited around me, familiar and foreign simultaneously. I lay back against pillows that smelled like him, in a house that remembered us, carrying a child that belonged to neither of those people.
The pack had made their choice clear with their silence—I was already erased, a failed Luna best forgotten.
Devon fought for his people while I lay here, caught between who I'd been and who I was becoming, with a pregnancy that might be ending before I could even decide what it meant.
"What am I doing here?" I asked the empty room.
The house offered no answers, just the weight of memories and the terrible possibility that coming back had been the worst mistake of all.