Chapter 8
Maya Goldstein POV
I woke to the sound of crackling fire and the sharp, medicinal sting of bitter herbs.
Pain radiated from my core, but it wasn't sharp. It was a dull, hallowed-out ache that felt permanent—like a crater left after a bomb detonation.
I tried to sit up, but a gentle hand pushed me back down.
"Rest, my child."
It was my mother. She looked older than I remembered, her face etched with new, deep lines of grief. We were in a small, hidden cave deep in the neutral lands, far from the territory lines.
"How long?" I croaked, my throat feeling like sandpaper.
"Three days," she said softly. She dipped a cloth in cool water and wiped my feverish forehead. "The Rogues... they did much damage to the Silver Moon Pack. But you..."
She stopped. Her voice caught, and her eyes filled with fresh tears.
A cold dread coiled in my chest.
"The baby," I whispered.
My hand went to my stomach. It felt... empty. The vibrant, humming spark of life I had felt just days ago was extinguished.
"The Rejection was too violent," Mom said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "And the physical trauma... Maya, the healer says the damage is permanent. You lost the pup."
She squeezed my hand, her grip desperate.
"And you will likely never carry another."
The world stopped turning. The silence in the cave was heavier than the stone walls enclosing us.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just felt a part of my soul wither, curl up, and turn to ash.
Liam did this. His selfishness. His indecision. He killed our child.
"He thinks I'm dead," I said, my voice hollow, void of emotion.
"Let him think that," Mom said fiercely. "It is better this way."
*
I spent the next week in a haze.
I moved like a ghost haunting my own body. I ate because Mom forced me to. I slept to escape the nightmare of reality, only to dream of crying babies I couldn't reach.
But peace was a luxury I couldn't afford.
One evening, while Mom was out gathering supplies, the makeshift wooden door of the cave was kicked in with a splintering crash.
Three wolves entered. They weren't Rogues. They wore no pack markings, but I recognized the scent immediately. It was a cloying mix of expensive, synthetic floral perfume and rot.
"Well, well," a voice sneered.
Ava Sinclair stepped into the firelight. She looked pristine, her hair perfectly styled, untouched by the Rogue attack she had supposedly been a victim to.
"You're hard to kill, aren't you?" she said, circling my cot like a vulture.
I tried to shift, but my body was too weak, my wolf dormant from the trauma.
"What do you want?" I rasped.
"To finish the job," Ava smiled, though it didn't reach her cold eyes. "Liam is moping. He thinks you might come back. I can't have that. I need to be Luna. And for that... you need to disappear permanently."
She signaled her hired enforcers. They grabbed me, dragging me out of the warmth of the cave and into the freezing rain.
"Why?" I gasped as they threw me into the mud. "You won. You have him."
"Because he still loves you!" Ava spat, her face twisting into a mask of ugly, unfiltered jealousy. "Even when he's inside me, he whispers your name. It's pathetic. And I hate you for it."
She raised a silver dagger, the blade glinting in the moonlight.
"Say hello to the Moon Goddess for me."
I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, a howl ripped through the night.
It wasn't a normal wolf howl. It was ancient. Guttural. A sound that vibrated in the marrow of my bones.
Mom burst from the treeline, followed by four massive wolves with fur like living shadows.
The Ancient Guard. The protectors of the White Wolf bloodline.
They tore through Ava's hired thugs in seconds, a blur of teeth and fury.
Ava screamed, dropping the dagger. Panic overtook her arrogance, and she shifted into a frantic, small wolf, sprinting away into the darkness with her tail tucked between her legs.
Mom pulled me from the mud, her strength surprising me. "We have to go. Now. She will tell him you are alive."
"No," I said, looking at the direction Ava fled. "She won't. She wants me dead. She will tell him she killed me."
"We are leaving these lands, Maya," Mom said, wrapping a heavy wool cloak around me. "We are going to the Ancient Territory. Where no Alpha can command you."
"I am not Maya Goldstein anymore," I said, letting the hood of the cloak hide my face. I looked back at the direction of the Silver Moon Pack. The smoke from their fires was a faint smear on the horizon.
"Maya Goldstein died in these woods," I whispered, the words tasting like a vow. "My name is Maya Evans."
My Inner Wolf, battered but alive, let out a low, vengeful growl.
We turned and walked into the shadows, leaving the ashes of my old life behind.
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