Chapter 42- breaking point
The sitting room hummed with an awkward silence after Brittany’s parting barb. Sebastian stood rooted for a heartbeat, the weight of the room pressing on him until he moved.
He crossed the floor in long, measured strides and stopped in front of her. Up close, Brittany looked fragile in the way a storm looks fragile—soft curls, a hand resting over the small swell of her belly, eyes wide and glossy. But the softness was an act; her smile sharpened as she met his gaze.
“Leave, Brittany,” Sebastian said quietly, every syllable controlled. “You can’t move back in here like you own the place. This house—this pack—has rules.”
She tilted her head, the performance of hurt perfect. “Really, Sebastian? Must I remind you who I am to you? I carry your child.” Her hand pressed over her stomach in a theatrically tender gesture. “You love me, don’t you? You always promised you would provide. You’d want your son—our son—close to you.”
He felt the words like a punch. Pride and shame wrestled under his skin. “This isn’t the way to—”
“Send me away,” she interrupted softly, venom slipping under the silk. “And I will go straight to the Elders. I’ll tell them what they’re already whispering: that you can’t protect the pack, that you can’t keep order, that you can’t even care properly for the mother of your child. I’ll tell them you’re not fit to lead. And I’ll tell them you’re not fit to be a father.”
The room narrowed. Whispers of the pack’s politics, the council’s rumors — everything Sebastian had tried to hold at bay — seemed to fold in around him.
“You wouldn’t—” he started, but the emptiness in his voice gave the lie away.
“Oh, I would,” Brittany said, and the smile she let bloom this time was dangerous, a seal being set. “You can try to send me away, Sebastian. You can try to ignore me. But I’ve already spoken to certain people about the child’s needs. The Elders will listen. They always do when someone promises stability.”
He looked at her, feeling exposed, tired. There was a shard of pity in his heart that surprised even him. “You’re playing with fire,” he said hollowly.
“Am I?” she whispered, almost sweet. “Or am I securing what’s mine?”
The proud set of his shoulders crumpled in a way that made his apology sound smaller than it had any right to be. “Fine,” he said, the word soft and broken. “I’m sorry. I don’t want a scene. Stay. We’ll arrange the east wing properly. There — peace.”
Brittany’s laugh was soft, quick, victorious. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
He left the room before he could give voice to every thing that clawed at him. The front door closed behind him like a verdict.
Brittany’s smirk still lingered in the air long after Sebastian left the room.
The echo of her voice — that soft, poisonous tone — clung to the walls like smoke.
By the time Sebastian reached the upper hall, his blood was pounding too loud to think straight. He pushed open the door to his chamber — their chamber — and found Rhianna seated by the window, her hair loose, the moonlight painting her pale skin in silver.
She looked up at once. “What happened downstairs?”
Her voice was gentle, but the question was enough to reopen the crack Brittany had left in him.
Sebastian exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “Brittany’s staying.”
Rhianna blinked. “What?” She stood abruptly. “You mean—staying here? In this house?”
“She’s pregnant, Rhianna.” His tone was already defensive. “She says she needs rest, and she’s carrying my—” He stopped, jaw tightening. “—our child. I can’t send her away like that.”
“You can’t be serious.” Rhianna’s voice trembled, not with anger, but disbelief. “She insulted me in front of the pack, Sebastian. She called me barren. You just stood there and let her—”
“Enough.” His tone snapped sharp as a whip. “You always make everything about you.”
Her lips parted, stunned. “About me? She humiliated me—”
“And she’s pregnant,” he interrupted, stepping closer, the frustration in his eyes almost desperate. “She’s weak, she’s vulnerable, and you’re— you’re arguing about pride? Do you hear yourself? This isn’t about you.”
Rhianna’s chest ached. She had no energy left for shouting. “It’s not pride, Sebastian,” she said quietly. “It’s respect. It’s the fact that you keep letting people walk over me. You keep letting her walk over me.”
He laughed bitterly. “Respect? You think this is about respect? You think I wanted this?” His voice cracked, fury leaking into something rawer. “I’m doing what I have to. She’s the mother of my child, Rhianna. You expect me to throw her out to prove a point?”
“I expect you to defend me,” she whispered.
Sebastian looked at her then — really looked — and for a fleeting second, guilt flickered in his gaze. But pride strangled it. “You’re selfish sometimes, Rhianna. You think only of what hurts you, never what’s right for the pack, or for me.”
Her eyes widened, stung. “Selfish?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. Withdrawn, secretive. And now this? You can’t stand her because she reminds you that not everything is about you.”
The words hit harder than he intended. He saw it in the way her face fell, how her fingers curled at her sides.
“I see,” she said after a moment, her voice barely more than a whisper. “So that’s what you think of me.”
Sebastian turned away, jaw clenched, eyes burning. “I’m tired, Rhi. Just… let’s not do this right now.”
She swallowed hard. “Where will she stay?”
“In the east wing,” he muttered. “It’s far enough.”
Rhianna nodded, though her throat felt tight. “Far enough for who? For me or for you?”
He didn’t answer. The silence said enough.
She stepped aside as he moved past her, the air between them cold, heavy, unspoken.
When the door closed behind him, Rhianna sank onto the edge of the bed, her hand pressing against her chest. Her heart stuttered — the faint ache that never truly left her now flaring sharp and deep.
Her wolf whimpered faintly inside her, the same weak echo that Alden had warned her about.
Don’t cry, she told herself. Not for him. Not now.
But the tears came anyway — silent, hot, endless.
Down the hall, Sebastian leaned against the wall, dragging in a long breath. He hated himself for the words he’d said, but he hated his own helplessness more. Every decision he made lately felt like a wound — and Brittany knew exactly how to twist the knife.
In the guest room, Brittany stood before the mirror, running her hand over her still-flat stomach, her lips curved into a slow, dark smile.
“You’ll regret ever crossing me, Rhianna,” she whispered, her reflection smirking back. “And you, Sebastian…”
Her eyes glimmered with cruel satisfaction.
“I’ll ruin both you and your precious brother.
One way or another — this pack will burn, and the elders and I will be the one holding the match.”