Chapter 114
The morning light came gray and thin through the narrow windows of the Alpha quarters, filtering across the wooden floor in pale stripes. The cradle in the corner was empty again—the wet-nurse had taken the baby to the nursery den at dawn, claiming he needed fresh air. Sebastian hadn’t argued. He hadn’t slept either. The sheets on his side of the bed were cold and untouched; he’d spent the night in the chair by the hearth, staring at the dying coals until they went black.
Brittany was already awake when he rose. She stood at the washstand, splashing water on her face from the basin, movements quick and mechanical. Her hair was pinned up, but strands had escaped, clinging to her damp neck. She didn’t look at him in the small polished mirror.
Sebastian cleared his throat. “We do it today.”
She froze, hands still in the water. “Do what?”
“The blood test.” His voice was flat, final. “In front of the elders. Before noon. Alden’s ready. The child’s blood, mine. We’ll know.”
Brittany turned slowly. Water dripped from her fingertips onto the floorboards. Her face was composed—too composed. The faint twitch at the corner of her left eye was back.
“No,” she said.
Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “It’s not a request.”
“It is when it’s my son.” She dried her hands on the towel hanging from the stand, deliberate, folding it once, twice. “You think you can just drag him in front of the council like some exhibit? Accuse me in public? Humiliate us both?”
“I’m not accusing anyone yet.” He stepped closer. “I’m asking for truth. If he’s mine, we move on. If he’s not—”
“He is yours.” Her voice cracked on the last word. She met his eyes then, fierce. “You held him the night he was born. You named him Rowan. You kissed his head and swore you’d protect him. Now you want to parade him like proof of my guilt?”
Sebastian’s hands flexed at his sides. “If there’s nothing to hide, there’s nothing to fear.”
Brittany laughed—short, bitter. “You sound like Rhianna. Two days, and she’s already poisoned you.”
“This isn’t about Rhianna.” He took another step. The space between them felt charged, like the air before a storm. “This is about us. About what’s left. You lied about the cloak. The tobacco. The walks at night. You lied about where you were when Rhianna came back. If you lied about that—”
“I didn’t lie about our son.”
“Then prove it.”
She threw the towel onto the stand. It landed crooked. “You don’t get to demand proof from me. Not after everything I’ve given this pack. This family. I carried him. I birthed him while you were too busy drowning in guilt over your broken bond. I kept this den running while you stared at ceilings and questioned every choice. And now you want to tear it apart because Rhianna whispered in your ear?”
Sebastian’s voice dropped dangerously low. “Rhianna didn’t whisper anything. You did. For years. You whispered until I believed her weak. Until I believed she’d never come back. Until I believed you were the only one who could stand beside me.”
Brittany’s eyes flashed. “And you did believe it. You chose it. You broke the bond yourself, Sebastian. Your teeth. Your words. ‘The bond is severed.’ I didn’t force your jaw open.”
He flinched. Just a fraction. But she saw it.
“You wanted power,” he said quietly. “You wanted the title. The den. The heir. You got them. Now I want the truth.”
“The truth?” She stepped toward him, closing the gap until they were inches apart. “The truth is I loved you. I still do. Even when you looked through me like I was nothing. Even when Rhianna’s name came up every time we fought. I stayed. I built something here. And you’re ready to burn it because a ghost walked back into the clearing.”
Sebastian’s breath came faster. “If he’s mine, nothing burns. But if he’s not—if you took another man’s child and passed him off as the future Alpha—”
“He is yours!” Brittany shouted. The words echoed off the beams. She shoved at his chest—hard. He didn’t move, but the force of it made her stagger back a step. “You think I’d risk everything for a lie that big? You think I’d let another wolf touch me when I had you?”
“I don’t know what you’d do anymore.” His voice was raw. “I don’t know who you are.”
Brittany’s face crumpled for a second—pain flashing raw—before she locked it down. “Then maybe you never did.”
Silence stretched, thick and ugly.
Sebastian turned away first. Walked to the cradle. Touched the blanket folded at the foot. His fingers lingered there.
“I’m taking him to Alden,” he said. “With or without you.”
Brittany moved fast. She grabbed his arm, nails digging in. “You touch my son, and I swear—”
He spun back, breaking her grip. “Our son. If he’s ours. That’s what the test is for.”
Her chest heaved. “You’ll regret this.”
“I regret a lot of things already.” He looked at her—really looked. The woman he’d once marked, once loved, once trusted. “But I won’t regret knowing.”
Brittany’s hands shook. She wrapped her arms around herself like she was holding something together. “If you do this—if you drag him in front of them—you’ll lose me. You’ll lose him. The pack will see you as weak. Divided. They’ll turn to Hardin. Or Rhianna. Or no one. And when the hunters come again, who will stand with you?”
Sebastian’s eyes darkened. “If the pack falls because of a lie, then it was never strong to begin with.”
She stared at him, tears welling but not falling. “You’re choosing her. Again.”
“I’m choosing truth.” He stepped past her, toward the door. “I’ll bring him back after. If you want to come, come. If not… stay here. But it happens today.”
Brittany didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Sebastian paused at the threshold. His shoulders were rigid, back straight, but his voice when he spoke again was quieter. Almost broken.
“I wanted to believe you,” he said. “For years. I wanted to believe we could build something real. But every time I look at you now, I see the cigarette stub. The mud on your hem. The way your eye twitches when you lie. I can’t unsee it.”
He opened the door.
Cold morning air rushed in.
Brittany whispered, “Don’t do this.”
Sebastian didn’t look back.
He walked out.
The door closed softly behind him.
Brittany stood alone in the room. The hearth was dead. The cradle empty. The basin water rippled once from a draft, then stilled.
She sank to the floor, knees hitting the boards hard enough to bruise. Her hands pressed to her mouth to muffle the sound that escaped—half sob, half growl.
Outside, the pack stirred. Footsteps on the paths. Voices calling across the clearing. Life moving on.
But in the Alpha quarters, everything had stopped.
She had hours. Maybe less.
Rhianna was gathering proof. Sebastian was taking the child. The council waited.
And Thorne’s warning echoed in her skull: Dare not say a word.
Brittany pressed her forehead to the floor. The wood was cold against her skin.
She had no allies left.
No sister.
No mercy.
Only time—and it was running out.