She offered us sweetbread laced with golden nectar. I hesitated. Ayla didn’t. Her little hands clutched the bread, her teeth sank in like it was salvation.
Seconds later, her body jerked in my arms.
“Mommy—” she whimpered, her voice fragile. Her little wolf howling faintly.Then it was all convulsions and stillness and cold.
I screamed her name until my throat tore. I crushed her to my chest. I begged, pleaded, clawed at the earth like I could force the poison out of her.
And then I felt it.
Bitter and slow, sliding over my own tongue. The taste of betrayal.
My limbs turned to stone. Darkness folded over me like a cloak.
But before it took me, Elara leaned in.
“You should’ve stayed hidden,” she whispered, breath brushing my bloodied ear. “Damien marked me the moment he realized you were no longer his class. I wear his crown now. And for that to remain true… you must vanish.”
They didn’t even give us a burial.
They wrapped us in bloodstained cloth and hurled our bodies into Ravencall Gorge, the same pit where they threw disobedient rogues and disgraced omega mothers.
And Damien?
He didn’t look back. He stood at the cliff’s edge, arms wrapped around Elara like she was the center of his world.