The Dragon Alpha's Forsaken Luna

Chapter Three: Betrayed

The days in the dungeon blurred together.

Seraphina stopped counting after the third time the guard brought bread. The torch outside her cell burned low and died, and no one came to relight it. She sat in complete blackness and listened to the rats and her own heartbeat.

She dreamed of fire.

Blue and gold flames. A voice speaking in a language she did not recognize. Heat that pulsed beneath her skin like a second heartbeat. And somewhere in the flames, a pair of eyes watched her.

Red eyes. Ancient eyes. Dragon eyes.

"Wake up," the voice said. "Wake up, daughter of dragons. They are coming for you."

Seraphina woke with a gasp. Her hand was on fire. No. Not fire. Golden light flickered across her palm, warm and alive. She stared at it for three heartbeats. Then the light faded.

"Just a dream," she whispered. But she did not believe it.

---

Footsteps returned on what might have been day five.

Many footsteps. Boots and chains and the scrape of metal against stone. Voices echoed through the dungeon corridor, too muffled for her to understand the words.

Seraphina pressed herself against the back wall of her cell.

The torchlight returned first. Bright and blinding. She covered her eyes and waited for them to adjust. When she lowered her hands, she saw four guards standing outside her cell.

And behind them, Ronan.

He looked different than he had on the wedding night. Cleaner. Sharper. He wore a black coat with silver buttons and boots that shone like mirrors. His hair was combed back from his face. His smile was small and satisfied.

"Good morning, sister," he said.

"I'm not your sister."

"Technically, no. But I find the term comforting. It implies a certain intimacy." He nodded to the guards. "Open it."

One guard produced a key. The lock clicked. The iron door swung open with a groan that sounded almost human.

Seraphina did not move.

Ronan stepped into the cell. He looked around at the straw, the bucket, the bare stone walls. His nose wrinkled slightly.

"I apologize for the accommodations. The dungeon hasn't been used in years. We weren't prepared for guests."

"I wasn't a guest. I was a prisoner."

"Details." Ronan crouched down in front of her. His knees cracked in the silence. "You've been here for five days. Do you know what's happened outside these walls?"

Seraphina said nothing.

"Darius was buried yesterday. Full funeral rights. The whole pack came to mourn him. Women wept. Men swore vengeance. It was beautiful, honestly. I didn't know so many people could cry on command."

"Did you cry?"

Ronan's smile flickered. "I did. Right on cue. The pack needs to see grief from their new Alpha. It makes them feel safe."

"New Alpha."

"Darius had no children. I am his only remaining blood. The title passes to me by default." Ronan tilted his head. "You look surprised. Did you think I killed him for fun? No, no. This was business. Clean, simple business."

Seraphina looked at his clean coat and his shiny boots and his satisfied smile. "What about me?"

"Ah." Ronan clapped his hands together softly. "The question I've been waiting for. Your fate has been decided. After much debate and several very creative suggestions from the pack elders, we have reached a compromise."

She remembered what he had said in the cell. The banishment was too kind. Execution was too quick. Selling her to the black market was the compromise.

"You're selling me," she said.

Ronan's eyebrows rose. "You remember. Good. I was worried the darkness had dulled your mind."

---

The guards pulled her to her feet.

Her legs were weak from days of sitting. The blood rushed to her head and the world tilted sideways. One guard grabbed her arm to keep her upright. She hated his hand on her skin.

"Bring her upstairs," Ronan said. "The transport is waiting."

They dragged her up the stairs. Three flights. Then another. Then a long corridor with windows that let in gray morning light. Seraphina blinked against the brightness. She had forgotten what the sun looked like.

The keep was quiet. Most of the servants were still asleep. The few who saw her turned away quickly. No one met her eyes. No one spoke.

She understood. They were afraid. Not of her. Of being seen helping her.

Mira was not among them. Seraphina looked for her friend in every face she passed. A maid carrying linens. A stable boy sweeping straw. A cook wiping her hands on her apron. No Mira. No familiar eyes. No one to say goodbye.

"Your handmaiden was reassigned," Ronan said from behind her. "She begged to stay with you. Cried on her knees. Very dramatic."

"What did you do to her?"

"Nothing. She's polishing boots in the servant's quarters. Her punishment is living with the knowledge that she couldn't save you." Ronan's voice was pleasant. "Some fates are worse than death, don't you think?"

Seraphina said nothing.

They stopped in a small chamber near the keep's side entrance. The room had once been used for storage. Now it was empty except for a wooden table and a single chair. On the table sat a dagger.

Silver blade. Wolfsbane residue darkening the edges.

Seraphina's blood went cold. But she did not show it. She would not give him that satisfaction.

"What is that for?" she asked.

Ronan picked up the dagger. He turned it over in his hands, watching the light catch the silver. "You're an Alpha, Seraphina. Even weakened from hunger and darkness, your wolf is dangerous. I can't have you shifting during transport."

"You don't need to stab me. Just keep me in chains."

"Chains can be broken." Ronan stepped toward her. "Wolfsbane cannot."

---

The guards held her arms before she could move.

Seraphina tried to pull away, but their grip was iron. Ronan stopped in front of her and pressed the tip of the dagger against her side, just below her ribs.

She thought about the warmth in her belly. The child she was carrying. The child she had not told anyone about.

"If you hurt me," she said quietly, "and something happens to what I'm carrying, I will find you in whatever hole you hide in, and I will make you suffer."

Ronan's smile flickered. For just a moment, he looked uncertain. Then the smile returned.

"You're not carrying anything. You're just trying to scare me."

"Try me."

Ronan studied her face. Looking for the lie. She gave him nothing but stone.

He lowered the dagger. "Strip search her," he said to the guards. "Before transport. If she's lying, I want to know."

The guards dragged her to a small room. Two female servants were summoned. They stripped Seraphina roughly and examined her body. One of them touched her stomach and froze.

"Alpha Ronan," the servant called out. "She's pregnant. Early. Maybe four weeks."

Silence. Then Ronan's laughter echoed through the chamber.

"Well, well," he said from outside the door. "The little wolf has a cub. That changes things."

"What are you going to do?" Seraphina asked.

"The same thing I was always going to do. Sell you." His voice was cold now. "But now you're worth more. A pregnant Alpha female. Very rare. Very valuable."

"The child is Dorian's."

"The child is dead the moment you leave this keep." Ronan's shadow moved beneath the door. "I can't have Blackthorne heirs running around with claims to my throne. The wolfsbane will take care of it. Two doses. Maybe three. The baby won't survive the week."

Seraphina's hands curled into fists. The warmth in her belly flared. Something inside her woke up. Something old. Something angry.

"If that child dies," she said, "I will burn this to the ground with you inside it."

Ronan laughed again. "Promises, promises. Now put her in the transport. I want her gone by nightfall."

---

The cage traveled south for three days.

Seraphina lay on the wooden floor and protected her belly with her hands. The wolfsbane burned in her veins, but the warmth in her womb stayed steady. Small. Fierce. Alive.

"The child is Dorian's," she had said. But she was not sure that was true.

She had been with Dorian only once. The wedding night that never finished. But she had dreamed of another man. A man with red eyes and ancient blood. A man who visited her in dreams and left heat in her belly.

A dragon.

"Half-dragon," she whispered to the darkness. "My mother never told me."

The cage rattled on. The warmth in her womb pulsed in answer.