Seraphina’s POV
The silence from Damien felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest. I sat behind his desk—our desk—staring at the stack of reports that needed my attention, but the words kept blurring together as my mind wandered to all the terrible possibilities that could explain his prolonged absence.
*Damien? Please, if you can hear this...* I tried the mindlink again, pushing the thought out with all the desperate hope I could muster. The response was the sa empty void.
"Luna?" Marcus’s gruff voice brought back to the present. He was standing in the doorway with his usual serious expression. "The morning briefing is ready whenever you are."
I forced myself to straighten my shoulders and project the confidence everyone expected from their Luna. "Of course. Give just a mont."
As Marcus left to gather the others, I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to center myself. *He’s fine,* I told myself firmly.
But nothing about this felt normal.
The briefing went smoothly enough. Border patrols reported continued quiet—no rogue sightings, no unusual activity, nothing that suggested any imdiate threat. Everything was exactly as it should be.
So why did I feel like sothing was terribly wrong?
After the briefing, I retreated to the office and imdiately tried the mindlink again. *Damien, I’m really starting to worry now. Please, just let know you’re okay.*
Silence.
The sixth day brought no news, no contact, and no relief from the crushing anxiety that was making it difficult to eat, sleep, or concentrate on anything else. I found myself checking the communications console in the office as if I could will it to deliver good news through sheer determination.
"You need to eat sothing," Ophelia said, setting a plate of soup and crackers on the desk beside . She’d been staying at the mansion to help with Adrian.
"I’m not really hungry," I said automatically, though my stomach was rumbling. The morning sickness had largely subsided, but anxiety had taken its place as an appetite suppressant.
"The baby needs you to eat," she said firmly, using the tone that ant she wasn’t taking no for an answer. "And Adrian is watching everything you do. "
"Any word?" Ophelia asked quietly, settling into the chair across from the desk.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice to remain steady.
"He’s okay, Sera," she said with fierce conviction. "Damien is the strongest, most capable man I’ve ever t. Whatever’s keeping him from checking in, it’s not because he can’t handle it."
I wanted to believe her. But the silence was becoming unbearable.
---
Day seven dawned gray and overcast, matching my mood perfectly. I’d barely slept, spending most of the night staring at the ceiling and trying not to imagine all the horrible things that could have happened to Damien. By the ti Adrian bounced into the bedroom asking about breakfast, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.
"Mommy, your eyes are all red," he observed with typical four-year-old bluntness. "Did you cry?"
"Just a little bit," I admitted, seeing no point in lying to him. "Sotis grown-ups cry when they’re worried about people they love.
Adrian patted my arm with his small hand, the gesture so tender and mature that it made cry even harder.
"It’s okay, Mommy," he whispered. "Daddy always cos ho. He promised he would always co ho to us."
After I’d pulled myself together and gotten Adrian settled with breakfast, I threw myself into pack business with renewed determination. If I could just focus on the work, on the responsibilities that couldn’t wait, maybe I could keep the fear at bay for a few more hours.
The morning briefing revealed more of the sa—no incidents, no threats, no news of any kind. It should have been reassuring, but instead it felt ominous, like the calm before a devastating storm.
I was in the middle of reviewing supply requisitions when the commotion started. Raised voices in the hallway, the sound of running footsteps, soone shouting about urgent news. My head snapped up from the paperwork, every instinct suddenly on high alert.
"You can’t just—" I heard Marcus’s voice, strained with exertion as if he was physically restraining soone.
"I have to see the Luna!" another voice shouted back, young and male and thick with panic. "She needs to know! Right now!"
I was on my feet and moving toward the door before I’d consciously decided to get up. Whatever was happening, whoever was out there, they were desperate to reach . And in my current state of anxiety, any news felt like it could be life-altering.
"Let him in," I called out.
The office door burst open, and a young soldier practically fell through it, Marcus’s restraining hand still on his shoulder. The boy—he couldn’t have been more than nineteen—was covered in dirt and sweat, his uniform torn and his face streaked with what looked like soot. He was breathing hard, as if he’d been running for miles.
But it was his eyes that made my blood turn to ice water. They held the hollow, shocked look of soone who had witnessed sothing unspeakable.
"Luna," he gasped, dropping to one knee in a gesture of respect that seed automatic.
My heart stopped beating. Ti seed to slow down as I stared at this dirt-covered ssenger, seeing in his expression everything I’d been trying not to imagine for the past week.
"What news?" I managed to whisper, though part of already knew I didn’t want to hear the answer.
The young soldier looked up at with tears streaming down his face, and when he spoke, his voice cracked like a child’s.
"Luna," he said, his words falling like hamr blows in the sudden silence of the room. "The Alpha is dead."
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