Soraya
My hands trembled as I gripped the steering wheel, my foot pressing harder on the accelerator. The tires screeched as I turned onto Willow Creek Road, the familiar path to my childhood home. A place that had never truly felt like home.
Please, Moon Goddess. Not her. Not now.
Honey paced restlessly in my mind, her anxiety bleeding into mine. Something's wrong. I can feel it.
I know, I whispered back, blinking against the burn of tears.
The estate loomed ahead, all gray stone and ivy-covered walls. Even in the fading evening light, it looked cold. Unwelcoming. I'd spent ten years in this house after my father brought me here at eight years old, and I'd never stopped feeling like an intruder.
I barely remembered to put the car in park before I bolted out, sprinting up the cobblestone pathway. My heels clicked against the stone, too loud in the eerie silence.
That's when I heard it. My stepmother's sobs. Raw. Broken. A sound I'd never heard from her before. It froze me in the doorway.
She stood in the foyer, her perfectly blonde hair disheveled, mascara streaking down her pale cheeks. My stepbrother Morgan held her, his jaw clenched tight. When his eyes landed on me, the hatred in them was so visceral it felt like a physical blow.
"You." His voice dripped with venom. "You have some nerve showing up here."
"Morgan, I…" My throat closed around the words.
"Don't." He cut me off, his arm tightening around our stepmother. "You don't get to pretend you care. Not now."
Bastard, I saw him mouth silently, making sure only I could see.
Despite being Luna of Paradise Pack, despite the power that title carried, in this house I was still just Aiden Windsor's mistake. The evidence of his infidelity. The stain on the family name that no amount of time could erase.
My stepmother, Vivienne, lifted her head. Her red-rimmed eyes met mine, and for a heartbeat, I thought I saw something other than hatred there. But then her face hardened into the mask I knew so well.
"She asked for you," she said flatly, turning away. "I don't know why."
The words hit like shards of glass.
This isn't good, Honey whimpered. Raya, I'm scared.
Me too, I admitted, pressing a hand to my racing heart.
A door opened down the dim hallway. My father emerged with Dr. Tim, our family physician. Both men wore expressions of profound grief. My knees weakened.
"Father?" The word came out barely audible.
"Is she…?"
"She's asking for you." His voice was formal. Cold. The same tone he'd used my entire life, the one reserved for addressing his greatest shame. His eyes slid past me like I wasn't even there, focusing instead on Vivienne.
"The doctor says... hours. Maybe minutes."
My world tilted.
Dr. Tim cleared his throat, his weathered face drawn with sympathy. "Luna Soraya, I'm so sorry. Her heart is failing. We've made her as comfortable as possible, but…" His voice cracked. "There's nothing more we can do."
No. No, no, no.
"You should go to her." My father's words were measured, emotionless. Even now, even in this moment, he couldn't bring himself to show me an ounce of warmth. Twenty-six years, and I was still the child he wished had never been born.
I moved before I could think, my feet carrying me down the hallway toward Grandma's room. Bracing myself, I pushed the door open.
The sight before me sent shards of hurt ripping through my weary soul.
My grandmother lay in the four-poster bed, the same bed where she'd let me hide under the covers when I was small and scared.
Where she'd braided my hair and told me stories about the Moon Goddess and fated mates. Where she'd held me the night I overheard my stepmother call me "the bastard girl who should have been drowned at birth."
Now she looked so small. Fragile. Her silver hair fanned across the pillow, and her breathing came in shallow, rattling gasps. The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the room, each tone feeling like a countdown.
"Grammy?" My voice broke.
Her eyes, those warm hazel eyes that had always looked at me with unconditional love, fluttered open.
"My... sweet girl." The words were barely audible. "You came."
"Of course I came." I collapsed beside the bed, reaching for her hand. It was so cold. "I'm here. I'm right here."
A tear slipped down her wrinkled cheek. "I held on... for you."
"Don't talk like that." I squeezed her hand, desperately trying to transfer some of my warmth, my strength, my life force into her failing body. "You're going to be fine. Dr. Tim is just being cautious. You've been sick before and you…"
"Soraya." Her grip tightened with surprising strength. "Don't... lie to me now."
The sob I'd been holding back broke free. "I can't lose you. You're all I have. You're the only one who…" My voice splintered. "Please don't leave me here alone."
"You're not... alone." Her free hand trembled as she lifted it, gesturing for me to come closer. "Come here, child."
I climbed onto the bed like I used to as a little girl, careful not to jostle her. She smelled like lavender and the mint tea she always drank. Like safety. Like home.
"I need you... to promise me something." Each word seemed to cost her tremendous effort.
"Anything. I'll promise you anything."
Her hand moved to my face, cupping my cheek. Her thumb brushed away my tears.
"Don't let them... break you. Not your father. Not Vivienne. Not…" She paused, her breathing labored. "Not anyone who makes you... feel small."
"Grandma, please…"
"Promise me, Soraya." Her eyes bored into mine with an intensity that belied her dying state. "Promise me... you'll choose yourself. Even when it hurts. Especially... when it hurts."
"I promise." The words came out as a sob. "I promise, Grandma. I promise."
"That's my girl." A faint smile touched her lips.
"I love you. Grammy loves…" Her gaze dropped lower, to where my hand instinctively rested on my still-flat stomach.
My breath caught as her smile widened, becoming something luminous despite the gray pallor of her skin.
"A baby," she whispered, wonder coloring her weak voice. "You're carrying... a baby."
"How did you…?"
"I can feel it. The shift in your scent." Her hand covered mine on my belly. "The life... inside you. So bright. So strong." Her eyes glistened with fresh tears. "Oh, my darling girl. This baby... this precious gift... will teach you something I never could."
"What?" I choked out.
"How to love yourself." Her hand pressed more firmly against my stomach. "This child will show you what you're worth. Promise me... you'll listen."
"I will. I promise. I…" My voice dissolved into incoherent sobs.
"I love you, Soraya. I have always... loved you. You are not a mistake. You are not... a stain. You are…" She gasped, her body seizing.
"You are worthy... of everything. And the days ahead are dark, don't trust what you see, trust your wolf...your instincts, my brave girl. I will watch over you from beyond the veil."
"Grandma!" Panic clawed at my chest.
The heart monitor's beeping became erratic, racing faster.
"Don't go. Please don't go. I need you. I still need you!"
Her eyes found mine one last time, clear and focused despite everything. "Choose... yourself," she breathed.
And then she was gone. The flatline filled the room. A single, sustained note that destroyed me.
"NO!" I screamed, clutching her still-warm body. "No, no, no! Come back! Please come back!"
But she didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't open her eyes.
The door burst open. Dr. Tim rushed in, my father behind him. Vivienne's wails echoed from the hallway.
"Luna Soraya, please…" The doctor tried to pull me away.
"Get off me!" I snarled, my wolf rising to the surface. "Don't touch her!"
"Soraya." My father's voice cut through my hysteria. "It's over."
Over.
The word was a knife between my ribs.
Dr. Tim checked for a pulse, then slowly shook his head. "Time of death: 7:43 PM."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The room spun around me. Hot tears filled my eyes, and through the blur, one clear thought struck me.
Jordan. I need Jordan.
My hand fumbled for my phone in my pocket. My fingers shook so violently I could barely unlock the screen. I finally managed to dial his number.
"Pick up," I whispered. "Please pick up."
"You've reached Jordan Rutherford, Alpha of Paradise Pack. Leave a message."
The beep felt like mockery.
"Jordan, it's me." My voice cracked. "My Grammy... she's... I need you. Please, I need you. Call me back. Please."
I hung up, immediately hitting redial.
Voicemail again.
Where was he?
I'd been there for him when his mother died in that horrible accident five years ago and his father was declared dead from poisoning on the same day Magda left. I'd dropped everything. Cancelled my college interviews.
I'd stayed by his side through every nightmare, every breakdown, every moment when the grief threatened to swallow him whole. I'd held him when he couldn't hold himself together.
And now, when my world was collapsing, when I needed him more than I'd ever needed anyone, hewasn't here.
I tried again. Each call went to voicemail.
He's in Silver Ridge Pack, I reminded myself. Maybe he's in a meeting. Maybe his phone died. Maybe…
Maybe he's lying, Honey whispered darkly.
No. Jordan wouldn't lie to me. He was my best friend. My first love. My husband. The father of the child growing inside me.
A commotion in the hallway made me lift my head. I could hear Vivienne's voice, thick with tears. "My baby. My baby girl came home."
And then another voice which sounded achingly familiar. One I'd hoped never to hear again.
"I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner, Mother. If I'd known Grandma was this sick, I would have come immediately."
No, it couldn't be.
The door opened and there she stood.
Magda.
My stepsister looked exactly as she had five years ago. Golden blonde hair, perfect porcelain skin, wide blue eyes that had once captured every heart in the pack. She wore a designer trench coat over a silk dress that probably cost more than most people made in a month. Even her tears looked elegant.
But that's not what made my heart stop.
It was the man standing behind her.
My husband, Jordan, still in his travel clothes, stood in the doorway. And in his arms, looking tired, was Eleanor.
Our daughter. Their daughter.
"Jordan?" The name fell from my lips like a question. Like an accusation.
His eyes met mine across the room, and something flickered there. Guilt? Pity? I couldn't tell.
"Soraya, I…"
"You said you were in Silver Ridge Pack." My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.
"I was. I mean, I…" He shifted Eleanor on his hip, and she reached for me, her little face scrunching in concern.
"Mommy crying?"
"Why is Mommy sad, Dada?"
But I couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at anything except the truth standing before me like a living nightmare.
Jordan wasn't in Silver Ridge Pack.
He was here. My husband had been here. With Magda. And he'd ignored my calls while my grandmother died, while I screamed for him, while I needed him most. The truth sank into me like a blade.