Chapter 143
Elenna Valehart.
After that phone call, I didn’t wait for sunrise.
I had to move, act while my son’s blood was still cooling.
I needed someone I could trust—but I knew I had no one left in the Council or within the Valehart House.
At that moment, I could only trust my own blood.
My roots.
The D’arven.
“Arrive at the Council headquarters immediately,” I said without hesitation. I’d called the home of one of the closest relatives nearby, and, as expected, they agreed promptly to help me.
I hung up, still floating in a haze from the news.
Francesca watched me in silence. Standing, rigid, different. There was something in her eyes now—something that wasn’t there before. Fragility had been crushed the moment she learned Adrian was dead.
The girl had died.
What remained was a woman—
and a wolf awakening far too late.
Curious how pain does that. How it wakes people in the worst way possible.
As for me, as always, I remained upright, composed, exactly as I’d been trained to be my entire life—at least on the outside.
Because inside…
My wolf howled, mourning the loss in a way that was sharp and unbearable.
Loss.
That word had never been part of my vocabulary.
Because I never lost.
I never failed.
I was always ahead—
or at least that’s what I convinced myself of, wasn’t it?
Death…
Death always comes without warning, without signs.
After hanging up, while waiting for their return call, I asked Francesca to make another tea—the last one.
I held the porcelain cup with steady hands, steam rising as I thought like a mother who already knew that crying wouldn’t bring her son back.
When they notified me they’d arrived, I took a taxi while it was still deep in the night.
Not even the cold touched me.
Not when hatred was keeping my blood boiling.
The streets were empty; people lived their lives as if nothing had changed—
as if the universe hadn’t just lost the only man I had raised to rule it.
For a moment—just one—I prayed it was a mistake, even knowing it was impossible.
Names switched.
The wrong body.
A misunderstanding.
But who was I trying to fool?
When I stepped out of the taxi and crossed the Council doors, that crushing certainty returned. The attendant didn’t even look me in the eyes as he directed me to the sector.
Hall 08.
The numbers on the doors mocked me as I passed.
One.
Two.
Three.
My steps grew faster and faster.
It felt like returning to the past—
that same feeling you get when your child goes silent after doing something dangerous, and you run, desperate, to check if everything is alright.
That was exactly what it felt like.
Francesca stayed behind.
She couldn’t keep up—
or maybe she understood this moment… was mine alone.
When I pushed the doors of Hall 08 open, I froze.
My hands clutched the frame. One on each side.
Cold steel beneath my fingers.
And in front of me, the metal table.
And on it—
Adrian.
My son.
My only one.
The heir I had shaped with blood, fear, and ambition, now lying like an object, covered partially by a white sheet.
Clean.
Prepared.
As if that were some kind of favor.
I walked toward him.
Slow.
Heavy.
Each breath was short, controlled, and forced.
The D’arven men arrived moments later. I heard Francesca tell them to wait. For the first time, she spoke like an alpha—firm, with no hesitation.
“Wait… let her command when it’s time.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“Funny…” I murmured. “Is this really what it takes for people to wake up?”
I reached the table and gripped the edge so tightly the metal bent under my fingers.
The tears burned, begging to fall, but I forced them back.
“Who did this to you?”
“Who had the audacity?”
I ran a hand through his hair. The touch shocked me.
He was already… cold.
There was a hole in his forehead. Another in his chest. His shoulder. His abdomen.
So many bullets that my stomach twisted.
“It must have hurt…” I whispered, my voice betraying me for the first time. “Why didn’t you listen to me, Adrian?”
The slow-growing rage finally consumed me.
“Look at you now… if you had listened…”
I brushed my fingers across his face and saw my entire life laid out in him.
The pregnancy.
The birth.
The silent vow that he would be untouchable.
And now… he was dead.
I thought of that hybrid girl, Sofia.
He threw everything away for her.
I inhaled deeply.
This wasn’t the moment for that poison. I knew she wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. Adrian would have died a thousand times for that girl.
Because he felt something I never had in my life.
The bond.
The soul-deep love of those destined to be united.
I had never known that—never had the luxury.
My marriage was nothing but a political act.
The closest thing to such love—the only true love I had ever felt—lay here, motionless, growing colder by the second.
My legs buckled.
I steadied myself. Straightened my posture.
I wouldn’t fall.
I gently covered his body fully with the white sheet.
When I turned, my eyes were red, but dry.
“You may enter,” I ordered.
The men hesitated when they heard my next command.
“Take him to the Altar of the Moon.”
They exchanged looks, then hesitated again.
“Now.”
I snarled.
They obeyed immediately.
I looked at Francesca. She understood.
As the table was wheeled away, I walked beside my son’s body.
“This is the last thing I will ever do for you, Adrian…” I murmured. “After this… you’re on your own. There will be nothing I can do for you from where I’ll be.”
Francesca approached, pale.
“Aunt… you—”
I didn’t let her finish.
“Yes.”
My voice was steady.
“This will not end like this. Not the way they want it to.”