The weight of the unsaid hung heavy in the pack house air, a familiar chill that had become Amelia’s constant companion. Through the dusty pane of her window, she watched him—Xavier, her mate, a figure of formidable power and striking handsomeness, commanding the training grounds below. His jet-black hair gleamed under the sun, his grey eyes, usually a cold storm when they met hers, now held a focused intensity as he drilled the new enforcers. A pang, sharp and familiar, twisted in her gut.

This was her daily ritual: observing him from afar, a silent sentinel in her self-imposed exile. He wouldn't allow her close, his disgust a palpable barrier. His movements were precise, his instructions clear, and a flicker of pride, subtle but undeniable, crossed his sculpted features. He was everything a Luna could desire, an Adonis in human form, yet all his loyalty, all his fierce affection, was reserved for others. For her, only hatred remained.

Amelia, five months pregnant with his child, touched her burgeoning belly, a silent comfort against the ache in her heart. He didn’t know the baby’s gender, and she knew he didn't care. She was alone in this journey, a phantom Luna in a pack that wished her gone, despised for a past she couldn’t explain, and a mating she never sought. Every appointment, every flutter, every hope—it was hers alone to bear. The pack, the world, his very existence, seemed determined to remind her of her unwanted status. Yet, for this tiny life within her, she would endure.