Corin Blackwood was named on a Sunday.
Four weeks old. Black hair. Blue eyes. Kieran’s face, Mira’s eyes, Darius’s name.
The nursery was full. Pack mothers, pups, Mara the healer. No men. No Alphas. This was Luna business.
I held him.
He was awake. Quiet. Watching me. Like he knew.
“You don’t have to do this,” Mara said. Soft. “Mercy is Luna’s right. You can”
“I can,” I said. “But I won’t.”
I looked at him. My nephew. My enemy’s son. My daughter’s future problem.
“Corin,” I said to him. “Do you know what that means?”
He blinked.
“It means spear,” I said. “Weapon. Protector. It means you stand between danger and what’s yours.”
I adjusted his blanket. Blue. Blood Moon blue.
“Your father chose war,” I told him. “Your mother chose betrayal. I choose you.”
I kissed his forehead.
“
