The girl whimpered, lips trembling. "No…"
Delilah rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. Her anger spiked hotter than ever. "How can you not know this despicable thing?" she demanded. "In what universe would you have even met her?" Her descent down the staircase was slow.
Vivienne straightened. She turned toward the maid, whose knees were still trembling near the base of the stairs. "Tie the fool down," she commanded. "Mrs. Blackwood will know what to do with both of you."
"No… please… no… my mother will be worried," Sera cried.
Vivienne's response was merciless, immediate. Her hand shot out, landing across the girl's cheek in a crisp, open‑palm strike. "You do not speak in my presence unless I ask you to," Vivienne said. Sera crumpled, curling in on herself.
"I did nothing wrong!" Sera sobbed. "You have no right! What kind of people are you?"
Vivienne leaned over her, eyes hard and spat the words. "I can do whatever the hell I want. You want my niece's life so badly that you pretend to be her? You want to carry the Blackwood heir, hmm?" She crouched slightly, eyes glittering with disdain. "You? You should have at least made an effort to pass as my beautiful princess. Pathetic."
Delilah watched as Vivienne left the girl lying there, blood pooling beneath her chin. With a grace that seemed almost inhuman, her aunt returned to one of the high-backed chairs opposite Delilah. Crossing her legs, she pulled out her phone, her posture immaculate, serene. "Mrs. Blackwood needs to get back here and deal with this madness," she said.
"Are you deaf? Didn't you hear her? Tie her down!" Delilah's voice had an edge that made the maid flinch violently. She scrambled to obey.
Delilah muttered under her breath. "God… where did Mrs. Blackwood even get this fool? She should take lessons about proper employment from you, Aunt Viv."
Delilah's hands fidgeted in her lap as Aunt Vivienne's sharp nails tapped against the surface of her phone. "She isn't picking up," Vivienne said finally. "Come, darling sit."
"How can I sit? I planned for this," she said. Her preparation had been meticulous—weeks of werewolf fertility vitamins, calculated timing, mental rehearsals of how the moment would unfold, every move choreographed. This day had been hers. The heir was meant to be hers. She pressed her palms to her thighs, willing her heartbeat to slow.
"Calm yourself, darling," Vivienne said. "If not today, then next month. Come, sit beside me." Her hand gestured elegantly to the chair. "Mrs. Blackwood will see reason. You will carry the heir. The girl?" She waved a dismissive hand. "She's a distraction. A toy the universe threw in to test your patience. And you, my love, will not fail the test. I have dealt with people like her before… and I always win."
*****
Eric Blackwood woke to the cold weight of reality pressing against him. The comforter was tucked around him and as he peeled it away, panic clawed up his spine. His eyes fell to the zipper of his trousers—and his cock.
If there were a way to throttle his mother without becoming the villain in every whispered legend about the family, he would have done it. She'd drugged him—her own son.
For years, he had severed conversation with the wolf, coexisting in the same flesh but denying its voice. Now, its instincts surged.
He zipped his pants with one hand and moved out. Outside, the morning shimmered but Eric's vision narrowed, honed on one target. His mother had arrived. She stepped from the car, the butler Benedict poised beside her.
Every nerve fired. Rage coated his teeth and tongue with bitterness. The wolf's growl hummed deep in his chest. He charged down the stairs and ignored the guests in the foyer.
His mother entered.
The day was already out of control.
"I swear to God, Mum!" he thundered.
Claudia's smile never wavered. "You should be thanking me," she said. Eric's pulse hammered in his throat.
"Thanking you? Thanking you for what exactly?" he spat. "For trying to make another generation of the cursed shadow wolf? It's not going to happen — not if I have to kill the child myself."
"I know you," she said then, soft, searching his eyes as if trying to buy the truth. "Even with your so-called cursed wolf, in your right senses, you wouldn't hurt your own child."
Eric laughed — a harsh, humorless sound. "Do you want to bet the child's life on that?" He said it to dare her.
A throat cleared behind him and, on reflex, every muscle in Eric tensed. He turned around to find Mrs. Thorne. At her side was the girl: barely more than twenty, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.
"Is this her?" he demanded, stepping forward. "Were you the one in my bed?"
"Mr. Blackwood—" Mrs. Thorne started.
"I wasn't speaking to you!" Eric snapped, cutting her off. "Was it you?" he asked.
"Eric, you are frightening the girl." Claudia said.
"I don't care. You did this! Why can you not respect my wishes?"
Claudia's face shifted. "Why wouldn't I? What do you think will become of us?" she shot back. "We do not have an alpha. We are almost human because of that. If you end the Blackwood bloodline, then there is no hope for us. We might as well be ordinary people."
"What's wrong with being human, Mum? I wish to the Moon Goddess I were human. I pray every day she takes this thing from me. Generations of bloodlust — how many more people will die?"
Benedict inclined his head at Eric's curt order. "Take the girl and lock her in a room," Eric said.
"Aunt Viv!" Delilah cried, clutching Mrs. Thorne's sleeve, as if she could hold herself upright through sheer panic.
"If there's even a sign of a pup inside you," Eric said evenly, "I will rip it out myself and offer it to the goddess."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Mrs. Thorne interjected, stepping forward. "She wasn't in the room with you. Someone else was. And locking her up is far too small a punishment."