Chapter 2

Christiana POV:

After booking the medical slot, I walked from the living room into the master bedroom and lay awake through the freezing night. When morning sunlight slanted through the blinds across the king-sized bed, I reached out and touched the cold, flat sheet beside me. Enzo had never come back to the room.

I pushed the duvet aside, got out of bed, and walked into the dressing room to pull on a modest beige trench coat to hide my exhausted face.

Walking out of the apartment, I took the elevator down to the underground garage, climbed into the back of the black bulletproof SUV, and told the driver to head to the Healer Sanctum.

As the vehicle pulled out of the Dhark Pack headquarters into the busy city streets, my stomach twisted tighter with every block we passed.

When we arrived at the Sanctum, I walked up the steps and pushed open the glass door of the senior examination room. The harsh smell of disinfectant mixed with the bitter scent of wolfsbane hit my nose.

Dr. Casper Petty, the pack's chief physician, sat behind his desk. He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, a flash of panic crossing his eyes before he masked it with a stiff professional smile.

"Luna, the data from your medical chip is ready," Petty said heavily, sliding a glowing blue data chip across the desk.

I picked up the chip and slotted it into the reader. Streams of complex biological metrics flashed across the holographic screen before settling into a single line of glaring red text: Severe Wolf-Spirit Trauma and Uterine Scarring. Conception Probability Near Zero.

"That's impossible..." I whispered, my fingers clamping around the edge of the desk until my joints ached.

"I am sorry, Luna. The hidden internal injuries from ten years ago have permanently destroyed your reproductive foundation," Petty said, lowering his head to avoid my eyes.

The room spun around me as my inner wolf let out a hollow wail. Bracing my hands on the desk, I forced myself to stand and stumbled out of the examination room into the bright hallway.

At the end of the corridor, Enzo stood outside the VIP ward, looking down at his communicator.

I walked toward him quickly, desperate for a shred of warmth from my mate.

"Enzo..."

He looked up, his dark gray eyes devoid of any heat, and took half a step back as if I carried a contagious disease.

"Is the checkup done? What are the results?" he asked in a flat, businesslike tone, as though inquiring about a quarterly financial report.

I opened my mouth, the words about my shattered fertility rising to my throat, when a customized, high-pitched chime rang from his communicator—Brittanie's private encrypted ringtone.

"It's nothing." I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat and straightened my spine. "Just a routine check."

Enzo did not press further. He gave me a cold glance before turning away.

"Don't be late for the pack banquet tonight. Maintain the dignity expected of a Luna."

I watched his broad back disappear around the corner. A single hot tear spilled over my eyelashes, and I wiped it away roughly with the back of my hand.

I walked out of the Sanctum, rode the SUV back to the estate, and sat before my vanity mirror while the stylists dressed me in a heavy black velvet gown that signified the authority of the Dhark Luna.

At eight o'clock that evening, my car pulled up to the Royal Manor. Taking a slow breath, I walked up the grand staircase and pushed open the heavy banquet hall doors. The glare of the crystal chandeliers made my eyes ache.

Across the hall, high-ranking wolves from allied packs were clinking glasses—note that no silver utensils ever touched a werewolf banquet table, as silver was our only fatal poison. The moment I stepped inside, the lively chatter froze for several seconds.

I took a glass of champagne from a passing tray and walked toward a group of noblewomen I usually socialized with.

As soon as Mrs. Beaumont, an Elder's wife, spotted me approaching, she turned her back, raised a feathered fan to cover half her face, and whispered to the women beside her with a sneer.

I stopped in my tracks, my enhanced hearing picking up her deliberately loud voice.

"Did you hear? She's a barren defective wolf who can't even carry a pup. Alpha Enzo is going to strip her from the pack registry any day now."

My hand jerked, pale gold champagne sloshing over the rim onto my knuckles. Petty's diagnosis had only been issued this morning, yet the entire upper class already knew.

Cold stares pressed against me from every corner of the room, making my skin prickle with humiliation. I locked my knees and stood my ground, refusing to run.

Suddenly, the main doors of the banquet hall swung wide open again. A wave of cloying sweet lily scent rolled over the crowd.

The guests parted automatically. My breath caught in my chest as I turned my head—Brittanie Cook was walking into my territory with her hand tucked securely into the crook of Enzo's arm.