[redith].
"I was hiding in the woods when Randall found us. He was on a hunt. When he sensed , he nearly killed on the spot. A vampire, with a child no less."
A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. "I thought that was the end."
I waited, barely breathing.
"But he didn’t do it," she continued. "He stopped. He looked at Estella—so small, so fierce even then, and sothing in him shifted. He spared us and brought us back to his family’s estate."
I frowned. "Didn’t anyone suspect what you were?"
She shook her head. "No. Although I don’t know how he did it, Randall made sure that no one knew. He was very careful and very protective of . He told everyone I was a widow from a fallen pack."
The picture was forming too clearly now.
"He courted ," Rosalie went on. "Slowly. Gently. He gave security when I had none. Food. Shelter. Safety for my daughter. And he called it love."
My jaw tightened.
"When he beca Alpha, he married ," she said. "Soon after, I had Draven."
At the ntion of his na, sothing softened briefly in her eyes.
"But four years later," she said, and her tone darkened, "everything changed."
I leaned forward slightly.
"Randall began to starve ," she said plainly. "He restricted my access to blood. Wouldn’t allow to hunt. Wouldn’t allow fresh ga near . I didn’t understand it then. He still doted on Draven. Treasured him. But ?" She let out a slow breath. "I was caged."
My stomach churned. "And then?" I asked quietly.
"When I discovered I was pregnant again," she said, "he beca kind once more. Attentive. Generous. He brought fresh ga himself. Visited daily. Watched like a prized possession."
A possession.
"Then, I fell ill," she continued. "I was weak and unable to perform my duties as Luna. I couldn’t stand beside him anymore. Couldn’t even play with my son."
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
"But he still trained Draven," she added, her voice sharpening. "Harshly. Ruthlessly. A pup barely four years old. I watched him co back bruised, exhausted... and I understood then."
"Understood what?" I probed.
Her eyes t mine—clear, lucid, and sharp. "He never loved ," Rosalie said. "He wanted what I could give him."
My breath caught in my throat.
"A child of mixed blood," she continued. "Power. Speed. Strength beyond ordinary wolves. That was his goal from the beginning."
The room felt smaller now.
"He used ," she finished. "Used my blood. Used my body. Used my children."
I didn’t speak. I didn’t trust my voice. My fingers tightened around the armrest as the weight of her words settled into my chest.
My heart ached for Draven, for the boy who had been forged into a weapon before he could even understand what he was. And suddenly, so many things made sense.
On the other hand, Rosalie fell silent, her gaze drifting away again, as if the mories had taken their toll.
"Why didn’t you take your children and leave?" I asked quietly. "Why stay?"
Rosalie let out a hollow, almost bitter laugh. "I thought of it many tis," she said. "But Randall was smarter than I ever gave him credit for."
I watched her closely as she spoke.
"He blocked every path," she continued. "Watched constantly. Guards. Servants. Even the woods beyond the estate. Everything reported back to him."
She paused, swallowing hard. "He only allowed to see my children four tis a month." Her voice softened briefly at their nas. "Just enough to keep alive. Never enough to give strength."
My jaw clenched as Randall’s wicked calculations.
"And then," Rosalie went on, her voice lowering, "I lost my child. A son. It was a stillbirth," she said.
The word sat heavily between us.
"I was weeping," she continued, eyes unfocused. "Broken. And on that sa day, Randall brought a week-old male child into my chambers." Her lips trembled with fury. "He told to raise him as my own."
I stared at her, my heart pounding. "He tried to replace your dead child."
"Yes." She nodded once. "But I refused. I knew imdiately. The child didn’t sll like . Didn’t carry my blood. There was nothing of in him."
My stomach churned.
"When I asked him why," she said, "why he wanted to raise another woman’s child, he refused to answer."
Instantly, everything clicked into place with horrifying clarity.
"You refused him," I said slowly. "So he declared you mad."
She nodded. "He confined to my chambers. Wouldn’t let see Estella or Draven. Days turned into weeks." Her voice cracked for the first ti. "When I couldn’t bear the separation anymore, I gave in and decided to raise that child for him."
"And then?" I asked.
"He took everything else," Rosalie said. "He stopped from drinking blood. No fresh ga. Nothing. When the hunger and pain beca too much, I would scream. I would tell anyone who would listen that the child wasn’t mine."
Her eyes darkened. "Eventually, I stopped raising him altogether. That was when Randall threatened with my own children." She inhaled shakily. "I didn’t see Estella or Draven for an entire year."
Rage burned in my chest.
"He branded insane again," she continued. "This ti, he locked away in separate quarters. Away from the pack. Away from the world."
She fell silent, then lifted her gaze to . "And when he beca King," she said softly, "he did the worst thing of all."
I leaned forward. "What did he do?"
"He banished my daughter," she whispered.
My blood ran cold.
"Estella," Rosalie said. "He claid she committed treason, stirred unrest and tried to divide the pack." Her eyes glistened. "I don’t know if it was true, but he never told about it. He never let see her for the last ti. He sent her away without a goodbye."
My hands trembled. Randall was cruel and very strategic with his plans and punishnts.
"I lost my mind after that," Rosalie admitted. "I destroyed things. I scread. I fought." She looked at calmly. "In the end, I chose to co down here. On my own terms."
I blinked. "You chose this?"
"Yes." She nodded. "Isolation was better than his gas." A bitter smile touched her lips. "When Draven grew older, he ca sotis. With Dennis. Randall wanted them to believe he still cared for —that I was the problem."
I saw it clearly now—the manipulation. The lie was crafted for his sons.
I steadied my voice before asking the next question. "Do you know who Dennis’s mother is?"
Rosalie shook her head. "No. I never saw her. Never heard of her before he brought the child." She hesitated. "I know she was a werewolf. Beyond that, I don’t know if she was Randall’s mistress or his true mate."
Right then, footsteps sounded faintly outside the door.
I leaned back in my seat slowly, my heart pounding. I had co seeking answers.
What I found instead was proof that Randall Oatrun was capable of sacrificing anyone—wife, children, truth itself—for power.
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