The packhouse was a riot of noise and light, a grotesque display of wealth and celebration that felt more like a funeral shroud for my dignity.
The Eclipse Star pack had been hungry for an heir for years, a ‘failure’ they had pinned squarely on my chest since the day Vance and I had shared our first moon. Now, the halls buzzed with a feverish, cruel energy that made the air feel deadly toxic.
Vance stood at the head of the great hall, his chest puffed out, radiating a triumphant warmth that made my skin crawl. He looked younger, energized by the lie he was currently swallowing whole. Beside him, Zebub was draped in silk the color of a bruised plum, her hand resting over her still-flat stomach with a smirk that told the world she had succeeded where the Luna had failed. She looked radiant
