Serena
The first thing I heard was the sound of weeping.
Soft, broken sobs, like someone trying not to be heard. But I knew that voice. I had heard it all my life—shouting warnings, whispering lullabies, praying behind closed doors when she thought I was asleep.
My mother.
I opened my eyes slowly. The ceiling was unfamiliar at first—plain, white, and blinding under a fluorescent light. Not the Alpha’s wing. Not the servant’s quarters.
The clinic.
A sterile scent clung to the air. Antiseptic and metal. The pillow beneath me was thin and scratchy. My mouth was dry, and my entire body ached like I’d been hit by a truck.
Or worse—by truth.
I turned my head, barely able to move, and there she was.
Ma sat beside my bed, her back hunched forward, face buried in her palms. Her shoulders t
