The Dragon Alpha's Forsaken Luna

Chapter Two: Blood Behind the Vows

"Don't scream."

Ronan's voice was soft, almost gentle, as he stepped over his brother's body. Blood dripped from the wolfsbane dagger onto the white stone floor. The fire crackled behind him, casting strange shadows across his face.

Seraphina pressed her back against the bed frame. Her hands were still holding the hem of her shift, frozen halfway between covered and naked. She could not look away from Dorian's body.

His eyes were still open. Still cold. Still unreadable even in death.

"You killed him," she whispered.

Ronan tilted his head like a curious bird. "I improved the situation. There's a difference."

"He was your brother."

"He was an obstacle." Ronan crouched beside Dorian's body and closed the dead man's eyes with two fingers. "A loud, arrogant, predictable obstacle. Do you know how long I've been waiting for this night?"

Seraphina's voice came out smaller than she wanted. "Waiting for what?"

"For you." Ronan stood and walked toward her. Slowly. Enjoying each step. "Dorian needed a bride to secure the alliance with your father. But I needed a scapegoat. A pretty, tragic, believable scapegoat who would take the blame for everything."

"My father will never believe I killed Dorian."

"Your father will believe whatever I pay him to believe." Ronan stopped an arm's length away. He smelled like wine and steel and something rotting underneath. "Lucien Ravencrest sold you for grain, Seraphina. You think he won't sell your reputation for silver?"

Her stomach turned. "What are you talking about?"

Ronan smiled. It was worse than Dorian's smile. Dorian had been cold. Ronan was hungry.

"Here is what happens now," he said. "Guards will burst through that door in approximately two minutes. They will find you standing over your dead husband with blood on your hands. They will find the wolfsbane dagger that you used to stab him in the heart."

"I didn't—"

"It doesn't matter what you did." Ronan grabbed her wrist and pressed the dagger handle into her palm. His fingers were warm. His grip was iron. "It matters what they see. And they will see a traitorous bride who murdered her Alpha for his inheritance."

Seraphina tried to pull away. He held tighter. "Let go of me."

"No." Ronan pulled her closer. His breath brushed her ear. "You were always going to be destroyed, little wolf. Dorian would have broken you slowly over years. I'm doing you a kindness. Quicker this way."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Many footsteps. Boots and armor and the unmistakable sound of a pack in motion.

Ronan released her wrist and stepped back. He smoothed his coat. He fixed his hair. He looked at her with something that might have been pity or might have been satisfaction.

"Remember to cry," he said. "It makes you look more human."

---

The doors burst open.

Guards flooded the chamber. A dozen wolves in Blackthorne colors, swords drawn, eyes wild. They saw Dorian on the floor. They saw Seraphina holding the bloody dagger. They saw Ronan standing calmly beside the fire with his hands in his pockets.

"By the Goddess," one guard whispered.

Ronan's face transformed. His hunger vanished. His cruelty disappeared. In its place came grief. Raw, shaking, believable grief.

"She killed him," Ronan said, pointing at Seraphina. His voice cracked. "My brother trusted her. Our pack welcomed her. And she murdered him on their wedding night."

Seraphina opened her mouth to speak. To explain. To scream the truth. No words came.

The guards grabbed her. Rough hands on her arms. Metal biting into her wrists. The dagger fell from her grip and clattered against the floor.

"I didn't do this," she finally said. "Ronan did. Ronan killed him. He's lying."

Ronan wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. A perfect performance. "She's trying to blame me. I understand. Fear makes people say terrible things. But the guards saw her with the weapon. The blood is on her hands."

The lead guard looked at Ronan. Then at Seraphina. Then at Dorian's body.

"Take her to the dungeons," he said. "Someone fetched Alpha Lucien. Someone else wakes the priest. The pack needs to hear what happened here tonight."

The guards dragged Seraphina toward the door. She twisted and fought, but there were too many of them. Their grips were too strong. Her bare feet scraped against the cold stone floor.

"This isn't justice," she cried out. "This isn't right. Ronan is the murderer. Ask him why his hands are clean. Ask him where the blood went."

Ronan watched her go. His face was a mask of sorrow. But his eyes smiled.

"Lock her in the deepest cell," he called after the guards. "And someone found her father. He deserves to know what his daughter has done."

---

The hallway blurred past.

Seraphina stopped fighting. Her body went limp between the guards. Not because she had given up, but because she needed to think. Fighting requires energy. Energy requires hope. Hope was a luxury she could not afford right now.

The guards carried her down two flights of stairs. Then another. Then another. The air grew colder. The torches on the walls grew farther apart. The smell changed from candle wax and perfume to mold and rust and old blood.

"The Alpha won't survive this," one guard muttered.

"She's a Ravencrest," another answered. "Their blood runs traitorous. Always has."

"I'm not a traitor," Seraphina said quietly.

Neither guard answered.

They reached the dungeon level. Cells lined both sides of a narrow corridor. Most were empty. Some held shadows that might have been prisoners or might have been nothing at all.

The guards stopped at the last cell. The deepest one. The one farthest from light and hope and anyone who might hear her scream.

"Inside," the lead guard said.

He unchained her wrists and pushed her forward. Seraphina stumbled into the cell. Her knees hit the stone floor. The guards slammed the iron door behind her. The lock clicked. The footsteps faded.

And then there was silence.

Seraphina sat on the cold floor and pulled her knees to her chest. Something felt different inside her. A warmth she had never felt before. It came from deep in her belly, right where a child would grow.

She touched her stomach again. "Not now," she whispered. "Please, not now."

---

Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time moved differently in the dark.

Footsteps returned. Two sets. One heavy. One careful. A torch appeared outside her cell. The light burned her eyes after so much darkness.

She blinked and saw two figures standing behind the iron bars. Her father. And Ronan.

Lucien Ravencrest looked older than he had this morning. His face was gray. His hands shook. He held onto the bars like they were the only thing keeping him standing.

"Seraphina," he said. His voice broke on her name.

"Father." She did not stand. She did not beg. She looked at him from the floor and waited.

"How could you do this?"

The question hit harder than any slap. She had expected accusations. She had expected anger. She had not expected confusion. Real, genuine confusion. He actually believed she had done it.

"Ronan killed Dorian," she said. "I watched him do it. He used a wolfsbane dagger and stabbed his own brother in the heart. Then he put the weapon in my hands."

Lucien looked at Ronan. Ronan shook his head sadly.

"I knew she would blame me. It's the only defense she has. But the guards saw her, Lucien. They found her standing over Dorian's body with blood on her hands."

"She's my daughter. She wouldn't—"

"Your daughter just murdered the Alpha of the Blackthorne Pack on her wedding night." Ronan's voice was gentle. Reasonable. Terrifying. "The alliance is broken. The pack wants blood. I'm trying to protect you, Lucien. But I can't protect you if you keep defending her."

Lucien's hands tightened on the bars. His knuckles went white.

"Father, please," Seraphina said. She crawled to the bars and reached through them. Her fingers brushed his coat. "You know me. You raised me. Have I ever been cruel? Have I ever been violent? I couldn't kill anyone. I can't even hunt for my own food."

Lucien looked down at her hand. At her face. At the tears finally falling down her cheeks.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," he whispered.

---

Ronan stepped closer. His shadow fell over both of them.

"Here is what's going to happen," Ronan said. "Seraphina will be held here until we decide her punishment. The Blackthorne Pack will demand execution. I will argue for mercy. In the end, we will compromise."

Seraphina's blood went cold. "Compromise how?"

Ronan smiled. That hungry smile again. The one that made her want to scrub her skin clean.

"Banishment is too kind for a murderer. Execution is too quick." He crouched down so his face was level with hers. "But selling you to the black market? To men who will pay handsomely for a disgraced Alpha female? That seems fair. A lifetime of service to repay the life you stole."

"No." Lucien's voice was sharp. "She's my daughter. I won't sell her like—"

"Like what?" Ronan stood and faced Lucien. "Like cattle? Like currency? You already sold her, old man. You sold her for grain and timber and the promise of protection. The only difference now is the buyer."

Lucien said nothing. Seraphina watched her father's face. I watched the shame war with fear. I watched the fear win.

"I want to speak with her alone," Lucien said quietly.

Ronan studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Five minutes. Say your goodbyes."

Ronan walked away. His footsteps faded into the dark. The dungeon was quiet again except for the crackle of the torch and the sound of a father failing his daughter.

"Father," Seraphina said.

Lucien sank to his knees in front of the bars. He pressed his forehead against the cold iron and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."

"Then help me. Get me out of here. Find proof that Ronan is lying."

"There is no proof." Lucien opened his eyes. They were red. Wet. Old. "Ronan has been planning this for months. I didn't see it. I didn't want to see it. I thought if I just got through the wedding, everything would be fine."

"Nothing about this is fine."

"I know." Lucien reached through the bars and took her hand. His fingers were cold. "I know."

"Don't let them sell me, Father. I would rather die here than be sold to the black market."

Lucien squeezed her hand. Then he let go. He stood up slowly. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He looked at her one last time, and she saw something in her expression she had never seen before.

Grief. Real grief. The kind that came from knowing you were about to do something unforgivable.

"Goodbye, Seraphina," he said.

He took the torch and walked away.

"Father?" Her voice echoed off the stone walls. "Father, come back. Please. Father!"

The footsteps faded. The dark returned. And Seraphina Ravencrest sat alone in her cell, wearing nothing but a bloody shift, and learned that being sold by a stranger hurt less than being abandoned by the man who raised you.

She touched her stomach. The warmth was still there. Small. Hidden. Alive.

"You picked the worst time to arrive," she whispered. "But I will protect you. I swear it.”