Elora Evernight was used to being adored.
Admired.
Feared.
She had the title.
She had the pack.
She had Ace—or so she thought.
But lately?
She had silence.
The scent of her mate, once warm and present, now faded more each day. The bond that once pulsed at her touch? Distant. Numb. Cold.
And Ace's eyes...
They weren't on her anymore.
They were far.
Haunted.
Chained to something he hadn't told her.
She noticed it in the way he lingered at the windows.
The way he didn't touch her in bed.
The way he gripped his jaw every time her name—Dia—was even whispered in court halls.
And tonight, she couldn't sleep.
So she did what Luna Elora always did when something slipped from her control.
She dug.
---
"Find me what he's hiding," she hissed to her personal spy, slipping him a thick envelope. "Every meeting. Every location. Every fucking whisper."
It only took two hours.
By morning, she had photos in her hands.
Of her mate standing outside a private estate.
In the rain.
Watching through a window.
Staring at Dia Valkryn like he'd seen a ghost.
Like he was begging the Moon Goddess for mercy.
Elora's blood turned to acid.
She flipped to the next photo.
And stopped breathing.
---
A child.
Small.
Curled against Dia on a velvet couch. His face partially turned…
…but those eyes.
Silver.
Unmistakably Nightborne.
"No," Elora rasped. "No. No. That's not—he can't—she was supposed to be—dead."
Her chest heaved. Her wolf snarled behind her ribs.
Dia Valkryn was alive.
And worse—she had Ace's heir.
Everything Elora destroyed... had survived her.
---
The photo trembled in her hands.
> She failed.
And now, she could feel it.
Ace's soul wasn't hers. It never was.
It had always belonged to the omega she tried to erase.
Dia.
And the child?
He was proof.
Proof that the rejection hadn't severed the bond.
Proof that Ace had loved her—even if he never admitted it.
And if that boy lived…
Everything Elora had done could be undone.
---
Her scream ripped through the room like a blade.
She knocked the tray of perfume bottles across the marble floor, shattering everything she once used to appear perfect.
"NO!" she shrieked. "She doesn't get to come back! She doesn't get to ruin this!"
Her wolf twisted inside her, furious, panicked.
"I'll kill her," she whispered, shaking. "I should have finished it."
She looked down at the photos again. Her hands were bleeding from gripping them too hard.
"I burned you once, bitch. Don't make me do it again."
---
The scent of roses hit Ace before the knock did.
Not real ones.
Synthetic. Choking.
Like everything Elora touched—crafted, curated, false.
He didn't look up when she entered.
"Elora," he said coldly.
"Still using my name like it means something," she replied, slinking in with her usual venomous grace. "Cute."
Ace didn't rise from his chair.
Didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
His silence only made her smile twist tighter.
---
"I hear you've been spending time in Valkryn territory," she said sweetly. "Dangerous place. Especially for someone with your… history."
"I don't need a warning," he muttered.
"Oh, no," she chuckled. "Not a warning. A reminder."
She placed a black envelope on his desk. Glossy. Unmarked.
He didn't touch it.
"You're not the only one who saw the child," she continued. "Do you think she kept him secret out of pride? No, Ace. She kept him hidden because she knew what I'd do if I ever found out."
Ace's wolf growled low, ears pinned. His whole body tensed.
"She knows what I'm capable of," Elora whispered, voice velvet over poison. "And if she forgot… maybe you should remind her."
---
He stood suddenly—towering, furious.
"Elora," he warned.
But she just tilted her head, mock-innocent. "Oh, don't be dramatic. I'm not threatening her, darling. I'm simply… concerned. Fires can happen again. Tragedy can repeat. And children?" She smiled, teeth gleaming. "They're so fragile."
Ace's fist slammed into the desk. The wood cracked beneath his palm.
"You will not touch him."
That was the first time he said it.
Not her son.
Not the boy.
Him. His.
Silas.
Something in Elora's smile wavered.
"Oh?" she said softly. "Getting possessive now, are we? Little late for that, don't you think?"
His jaw locked. "Stay away from them."
Elora stepped back slowly, reading him like a puzzle she had broken once before but could no longer solve.
"You forget," she said quietly. "I made you choose. You picked me. And I can unmake that choice any time I want."
She walked to the door.
Paused.
Turned slightly.
"She's still just an omega, Ace," she whispered. "And even phoenixes burn if you fan the right flame."
---
The door clicked shut behind her.
Ace stood frozen, blood pounding in his ears.
His wolf clawed inside his chest.
> She threatened our blood.
She'll try again.
We failed her once. We don't get another chance.
He looked at the envelope.
Didn't open it.
Didn't need to.
Because in his gut, in his bones, in his wolf's voice screaming at him from the dark—
---
Dia Valkryn didn't flinch when her head of security entered unannounced.
She didn't flinch when he handed her a sealed black envelope, similar to the ones her family used during hostile takeovers.
She just opened it.
Read it.
And smiled.
A slow, chilling smile that made her assistant—who had accidentally witnessed the moment—step back like he'd seen a predator unsheathing its claws.
The note was brief. Typed. Anonymous.
But she knew the author.
"Fires don't always finish the first time, Diana. Be careful where your ashes fall.
Children are so flammable."
Dia set the paper down and folded her hands calmly on her desk.
"She threatened my son," she said softly.
Then, louder: "Double his security detail. No guards under Beta rank. Authorize kill-level clearance if anyone breaches perimeter range under a Nightborne scent."
Her security chief hesitated. "Even if it's Alpha Nightborne himself?"
She didn't blink. "Especially if it's him."
---
She found Silas napping peacefully that evening, curled in a sunbeam like nothing had shifted.
She knelt, smoothing back his hair, brushing a kiss to his forehead.
"You were born from fire," she whispered. "And I will burn kingdoms before I let them touch you again."
Her voice didn't shake.
Not anymore.
That girl had died in the smoke.
And Diana Valkryn didn't beg fate.
She bent it.
---
She didn't expect the knock on her private floor.
Didn't expect the guards to let anyone through.
But then she heard the one voice that still managed to twist inside her:
"Dia. Please open the door."
Ace.
She stood slowly, heels clicking on marble.
She didn't open it out of curiosity.
She opened it because she knew this moment was inevitable.
---
Ace stood on the threshold, damp from rain again, like the storm followed him everywhere now.
His jaw clenched when he saw her, but his voice was careful. Controlled.
"Elora threatened you."
"She threatened my son," Dia corrected, stepping forward with venom in her tone. "You don't get to soften that with 'you'. She didn't threaten me, Ace. She threatened a child. My child."
"Our—" he started, but her eyes cut into him like glass.
"Don't," she said quietly. "Don't say 'our' as if you ever held him. As if you ever asked if I survived. As if you didn't walk away while your pack buried me under silence and soot."
"I didn't know—"
"You didn't care to know."
He inhaled slowly, his voice raw. "I'm here to protect you."
Dia laughed. Once. Coldly.
"Protect me?" she stepped closer, gaze blazing. "You had that chance three years ago. I begged for it. I bled for it. And you chose silence."
"I was lied to and I paid for it with graves." Ace said in controller voice.
Dia's voice lowered, lethal. "You don't get to walk into this house, into this life, and pretend you're the savior."
"I'm trying to make it right."
"You want to make it right?" She stepped back, spine straight, chin raised. "Start by admitting this isn't about protection. It's about control."
She turned her back to him.
"You don't want to protect me, Ace. You want to undo the regret clawing at your conscience."
He flinched.
Dia looked over her shoulder one last time.
"And regret doesn't earn redemption."
Then she closed the door. Quiet. Final.
---
Outside, Ace stood alone again.
And for the second time in his life…
He felt the sting of rejection.
But this time, it was justified.