Chapter 252 252
Sabine POV
I barely spoke for the rest of the day.
My thoughts wouldn’t leave Stéphane his body bound in chains, the inevitability of his execution looping through my mind no matter how hard I tried to stop it. Maurice noticed my silence almost immediately. He kept checking in on me, asking if I was feeling all right, his concern gentle but persistent. At one point, he told me we would be leaving in the morning. Somewhere close to Aurélie’s pack, he said. A place where I’d have the space I needed to connect with my wolf side.
His men arrived while I was in the middle of hosting a tea party with Delphine.
Maurice brought them over and introduced each one. I smiled politely, forcing myself to focus on their faces, their names, anything other than the heaviness sitting in my chest. But they didn’t call me Sabine.
They called me Luna.
The title landed wrong. Heavy. Premature. As if I were already meant to lead them, to command respect I hadn’t earned and didn’t yet understand. Luna? I didn’t even have a wolf.
Maurice said he could feel her, that she was there, waiting. I believed him some instinct deep inside told me I should. Still, I’d always been the type who needed proof. Seeing was believing.
At dinner, I stayed close to Delphine. She was simple in the best way honest, straightforward. She didn’t lie, didn’t manipulate, didn’t hide things behind carefully chosen words. I trusted her. Damien watched me closely from across the table while I pushed food around my plate, my appetite nonexistent. Hunger was the least of my worries.
I couldn’t let Stéphane die without trying.
He deserved a chance a real one. If he refused it, that would be his decision. But at least then I could leave knowing I’d done what I could. That my conscience was clear.
Maurice insisted I stay with him again that night. I didn’t argue. Falling asleep in his arms had become something I looked forward to, something grounding. I told him I was heading to his room to take a shower. I did shower but I also needed distance. From Aurélie. From the guilt clawing at my chest for wanting to help Stéphane. I felt torn clean down the middle.
Maurice came back while I was flipping mindlessly through television channels, sprawled across his bed. His body was streaked with mud, the scent of rain clinging to him.
“You’re filthy,” I teased softly, wrinkling my nose as he walked in. The storm outside still lingered on his skin.
“I had to walk the borders with my men so they can handle night patrol,” he explained. “I’ll take a quick shower and join you.”
“Okay,” I said with a small smile, watching him disappear into the en-suite before leaning back against the pillows.
Top drawer.
The voice echoed inside my head so sharply that I sat up. I leaned forward, listening, making sure the bathroom door was fully closed. When I was certain, I slid quietly across the bed and opened the top drawer of Maurice’s bedside table.
A document lay right on top neat, official, and completely out of place.
My heart began to pound. Any second, he could walk out and catch me snooping. I didn’t have time to hesitate.
I flipped the paper over.
Another death certificate.
Confusion hit first then the realization slammed into me like a blow to the chest. It was mine. Declaring that I, too, had died. Pneumonia.
What…?
I barely had time to process before I heard the shower cut off. Panic flared. I shoved the document back exactly where I’d found it and closed the drawer, my pulse racing.
I couldn’t stay in that room not with my anger surging and my heart hammering like this. He would sense it. He would know.
“I’m going to make a hot drink!” I called out, my voice embarrassingly high as I rushed out before he could respond.
The kitchen was empty thankfully. I switched on the kettle and focused on the sound of it heating, using the steady hum to force my breathing to slow. The house was full of werewolves. Creatures who could hear the slightest sound, detect the faintest shift in heartbeat. I needed to calm myself before my anger betrayed me.
They all acted as though they were blameless. As though they always knew what was best for me.
But they were lying.
And if they were lying about this what else were they hiding? Even Maurice. Why would he keep this from me? He’d shown me my mother’s death certificate without hesitation, so why conceal mine? If I was officially dead, I had no identity. No way to exist outside this pack.
Was that what he wanted?
For me to stay here forever. Hidden away.
Like in the apartment.
Part of me tried to reason through it, tried to quiet the spiral but it didn’t stop the truth from hurting. Everyone kept lying. Everyone kept trying to keep me hidden.
I needed to reach Stéphane.
And more than that I needed to get a message to Father.