The farewell unfolded in Lucien's private study, away from the eyes of both packs, though time pressed against us like a blade.
My sons stood before me, their young faces trying so desperately to be brave, to understand why their mother would willingly walk into the jaws of the wolf who had haunted their childhood stories.
"This is temporary," I told them, kneeling to meet their eyes at their level, my hands finding each of their faces in turn.
"Sometimes, protecting the people we love requires us to be apart from them for a while. But distance changes nothing about how fiercely I love you, how proud I am of the young wolves you're becoming."
"But why do you have to go with him?" Atlas demanded, his protective instincts flaring even at six years old. "Uncle Lucien is strong enough to fight him. We could all fight together."
"Because sometimes, my brave one, the greatest strength is knowing when not to fight. Your uncle taught me that wisdom, and now I'm using it to keep everyone safe—you, your brothers, our entire pack."
I pulled all three into an embrace that I hoped would sustain me through whatever darkness awaited.
"Listen to your uncle. Practice your lessons. Grow strong and wise. And remember that every sunrise brings us closer to being together again."
Kai, ever serious, nodded with understanding beyond his years. "We'll make you proud, Mama. We'll become everything you taught us to be."
Finn, my gentle observer, pressed something into my palm—a small river stone, smooth and perfect. "So you can remember the sound of our stream when you're far away."
After the boys were led away, Lucien pulled me aside with urgency painting his features.
"Martha prepared this at my request," he said, pressing a small vial into my hand, his voice dropping to barely a whisper.
"Three drops on your tongue after any... encounter. It will prevent conception while we work on getting you out of there. It's your safety net, Lyanna."
"Lucien…" I began, but he silenced me with an embrace that carried all the words we couldn't speak.
"Just survive," he whispered against my hair. "Whatever it takes, just survive until I can bring you home."
“I will, Lucien. I will.”
The journey to Grimhowl passed in tense silence, Rheakar's satisfaction radiating from him like heat from a forge.
When the estate finally rose before us, I was struck by how little had changed—the same imposing stone walls, the same carefully manicured grounds that masked the cruelty within.
Yet everything felt different through the lens of six years' freedom, each familiar corner now carrying the weight of memories I'd tried to bury.
As servants scattered at our approach and I was shown to quarters that mockingly resembled my old chambers, my thoughts turned inevitably to Korin.
We'd managed to maintain contact through carefully orchestrated messages—his first letter arriving just weeks after the triplets' birth, carried by a merchant who asked no questions.
The correspondence had been sparse by necessity, each exchange risking discovery, but those rare letters had been lifelines confirming we both still drew breath.
But there had been nothing for months now. My last three letters had gone unanswered, silence stretching long enough to transform concern into dread.
At dinner, I forced myself to maintain composure while carefully probing for information.
"The household seems well-managed," I observed with studied casualness. "Your Beta must be maintaining excellent order in your absence."
Rheakar's grin spread across his face with predatory satisfaction.
"Ah, you mean your little rat-savior? Korin's service couldn't be better—though I suspect he finds his current position somewhat different from his former elevation."
The wine glass trembled in my hand as ice crystallized in my veins. He knew. The truth was written in every line of his smile, in the cruel delight dancing in his eyes.
"How long have you known?" The question emerged as barely a whisper.
"Long enough to ensure proper justice," he replied, setting down his own glass with deliberate precision.
"Did you truly think I wouldn't eventually uncover how my pregnant Luna managed to slip past every guard, every patrol, every protection I had in place? Your Beta was skilled, I'll grant him that."
"What did you do to him?" The words scraped from my throat like broken glass.
"I told you—he's alive and well. Or rather... almost well." Rheakar's expression shifted to mock thoughtfulness.
"After all, betraying an Alpha isn't something one can easily get away with. Let's just say Korin is serving his just punishment, learning the price of placing personal feelings above pack loyalty."
He rose from the table with fluid grace, extending his hand with theatrical courtesy.
"Come. Since you're so concerned about his welfare, perhaps you should see for yourself how your conspirator fares. Consider it my welcome gift—a reminder of what happens to those who defy me."
The descent into the dungeons transformed the estate's veneer of civilization into something primordial and cruel.
The air grew thick with dampness and despair, and as we descended deeper, I heard it—the sharp crack of leather against flesh, followed by a growl of pain that tried so hard to remain defiant.
Terror twisted through my insides as Rheakar led me down the final corridor. Through the bars of the furthest cell, illuminated by flickering torchlight, I saw him.
Korin hung suspended by chains, his back a canvas of old scars and fresh wounds, a guard raising the whip for another strike.
"Korin," his name escaped my lips as barely more than a breath, yet somehow he heard it.
His head lifted with enormous effort, grey eyes clouded with pain searching until they found mine. "My Luna..." The words held such tenderness despite his suffering that my heart shattered completely.
"Stop this!" I turned to Rheakar, my composure finally breaking entirely. "I forced him to help me. I threatened him, found leverage against him that left him no choice. If you need to punish someone for that betrayal, punish me."
"Now why would I damage my breeding stock?" Rheakar's hand found my shoulder with possessive weight. "I need you whole and healthy to bear my new heir. And nothing of importance will be lost from a battle-hardened Beta."
At the mention of an heir, Korin's entire body went rigid, the chains rattling as he strained against them.
"Don't do this, Lyanna. Run. Get as far from here as possible and never look back. What he plans will destroy everything you are."
"How touching," Rheakar observed with cold amusement. "The Beta still thinks he has the right to offer counsel. That's enough entertainment for today."
His hand closed around my arm with bruising force, pulling me away despite my resistance.
As Rheakar dragged me from the dungeon, my last glimpse was of Korin's eyes—still holding that impossible tenderness despite the blood running down his back.
I couldn't help him now, couldn't even offer comfort through the bars. But as we climbed back toward the estate's false civility, I made a silent vow: I would find a way to free him from those chains, no matter what it cost me.