Seraphina’s POV
The hallway felt ten degrees colder than the cafeteria.
Or maybe that was just Emma’s expression.
Gone was the warm smile. The friendly deanor. The perfect Luna act she’d been performing for the trainees.
What stood in front of now was sothing harder. Sharper. Real.
"Don’t you realize how much you’re in the way?" Her voice ca out cold. Clinical. Like she was stating a fact rather than throwing an insult.
I almost laughed.
Actually, I did laugh. A short, bitter sound that echoed off the empty walls.
"In the way?" I crossed my arms. "That’s interesting. Considering I knew Damien and this pack long before you showed up."
Emma’s jaw tightened. "That’s irrelevant."
"Is it?"
"Yes." She stepped closer. Her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her arm. "Because knowing soone first doesn’t an you get to keep them."
My stomach twisted. But I kept my face neutral. Bored, even.
"I was raised to be a Luna," Emma continued. Her voice getting sharper. More intense. "From the ti I was a child, I was trained for this. Educated for this. Prepared to lead a pack. My bloodline is perfect. My skills are perfect. My status matches Damien’s perfectly."
"Congratulations." The word ca out flat. "Want a dal?"
Her eyes flashed with anger. "You left him. You abandoned your children. You walked away from everything."
Each word was a knife. Precise. Aid to hit where it hurt most.
"So tell , Seraphina." She said my na like it tasted bad. "Why did you co back? What gives you the right to waltz back into their lives after three years?"
The questions hung in the air. Heavy. Accusatory.
I could’ve explained. Could’ve told her about losing my wolf. About feeling worthless. About thinking they’d be better off without .
But I didn’t owe her shit.
"Whether I co back or not," I said slowly, deliberately, "is my freedom. My choice. Not yours."
Emma’s perfect composure cracked slightly. "You don’t deserve—"
"And if you’re so confident," I cut her off, stepping closer now, "if you really believe you can make Damien love you, then go ahead. Try."
Her face flushed. "I don’t need to try. I’ve been here. Taking care of his children. Supporting his pack. Being everything he needs while you were God knows where doing God knows what."
"Taking care of his children?" The words ca out sharp. "They’re my children too."
"Are they?" Emma’s smile was cruel now. "Lily doesn’t even rember you. Adrian hates you. You heard him yourself."
The words hit like a physical blow. But I forced myself not to react. Not to give her the satisfaction.
"You know what I find interesting?" I kept my voice conversational. Light. Like we were discussing the weather. "All this confidence you’re showing. All these claims about being perfect for him."
I paused. Let the silence stretch.
"But as far as I know," I continued, "Damien’s not interested in you at all."
Emma’s face went white. Then red. "You don’t know anything about what Damien thinks or feels."
"Don’t I?" I tilted my head. "I’m his wife, Emma. His mate. The mother of his children. I think I know him pretty well."
"You were his wife." She emphasized the past tense. "Three years ago. Before you left. Before he moved on."
"Has he moved on?" I asked quietly. "Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it."
Her hands clenched into fists. "He brought to that party. With the children. He introduced to everyone as—"
"As his assistant who was doing him a favor?" I supplied. "Yeah. I heard about that. Must’ve been awkward when you realized it wasn’t a date."
Her face was burning now. Fury and embarrassnt mixing together.
"You think you’ve won sothing," she hissed. "You think because you ca back, everything goes back to normal? That he’ll just forget three years of abandonnt?"
"I never said that."
"He needed soone!" Her voice rose. "While you were gone, doing whatever selfish thing you were doing, he was here. Broken. Destroyed. Trying to raise two children alone while grieving a wife who just disappeared!"
The words hit harder than I expected. Because they were true.
"And I was there," Emma continued. Her voice shaking now. "I helped him. I supported him. I was there for Adrian and Lily when their mother wasn’t!"
"You’re right," I said quietly.
She stopped. Blinked. "What?"
"You’re right. You were there. You helped." I t her eyes. "And I appreciate that. Genuinely. I’m glad soone was there for them."
Emma’s expression shifted. Confused. Like she hadn’t expected agreent.
"But," I continued, "that doesn’t make you their mother. And it doesn’t make you Damien’s mate."
"I could be." Her voice was desperate now. Pleading almost. "I could be everything he needs. Everything they need. If you would just—"
"Just what? Leave again?" I shook my head. "Not happening. I’m staying. With my family. Whether you like it or not."
"He doesn’t love you anymore." The words ca out desperate. Like she was trying to convince herself as much as .
"Maybe not." I shrugged. "Maybe three years killed whatever we had. Maybe you’re right and he has moved on."
I stepped closer. Close enough to see the mascara smudging at the corners of her eyes.
"But here’s what I know," I said softly. "If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be having this conversation. You wouldn’t be trying so hard to convince to leave."
Her breath caught.
"If Damien really wanted you," I continued, "if he really loved you, you wouldn’t see as a threat. You’d be confident. Secure. Happy."
I paused. Let that sink in.
"But you’re not. You’re terrified. Because deep down, you know the truth."
"What truth?" She whispered.
"That I’m his wife. His mate. His choice." I smiled. Not cruel. Just factual. "And no amount of cookies or playdates or perfect Luna training is going to change that."
Emma stood there. Trembling. Her perfect composure completely shattered.
"So like I said," I finished, "if you think you can make him love you, go ahead and try. I won’t stop you. But just know that I’m not going anywhere. And neither is the history we have together."
Silence fell between us. Heavy. Final.
Emma’s eyes were wet now. Tears threatening to spill.
"You don’t deserve him," she said quietly. "After what you did. After leaving. You don’t deserve any of them."
"Maybe not." I nodded. "But they’re mine anyway."
She stared at for another long mont. Her face doing sothing complicated. Anger and hurt and desperation all mixed together.
Then she stomped her foot. Actually stomped it. Like a child throwing a tantrum.
"You’ll see," she said. Her voice shaking. "You’ll see. This isn’t over."
She turned on her heel and walked away. Fast. Her heels clicking against the tile floor.
I watched her go. Watched her disappear around the corner.
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