Chapter 75 I had lie
Vuk Kael Lasković
I had lied to Maureen.
Not because I wanted to.
Of course not.
No one wants to build the only real thing they’ve ever had on a foundation of lies.
No one wants to watch the woman who owns their soul sob because they told her the most precious part of her life was nothing more than a dream.
I did it because I couldn’t stand watching her suffer any more than she already had.
The past three months had been a slow-motion nightmare wrapped in hellfire.
I’d pulled the embryos from her body at two months—three tiny, fragile sparks of life that were already burning too bright, too fast for her mortal frame to contain.
The hellfire in my blood, mixed with her pure lunar essence, had turned what should have been a gentle pregnancy into something violent.
Her body had begun to shut down: fever, seizures, her wolf retreating so deep I could barely feel her through the bond.
If I’d left them inside her any longer, I would have lost them all.
So I did the only thing I could.
I broke every vow I’d ever made to myself about never using the black arts my father taught me, and I forged an incubator out of my own soul—black crystal veined with molten gold, suspended by threads of Lucifer’s flame and Selene’s starlight.
I bound their lives to mine instead.
My blood, my fire, my immortality now fed them so hers didn’t have to.
She stayed in the coma for an extra month after the extraction.
Thirty-one days of silence except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest and the faint, stubborn pulse of our bond.
Thirty-one days of me kneeling beside her bed, whispering apologies she couldn’t hear, begging gods I hated to let her come back.
The embryos… they didn’t wait.
They picked up fast—too fast.
My hellfire essence poured into them like gasoline on a bonfire, and her lunar blood gave them shape, grace, light.
By the time Maureen finally stirred this morning, they were no longer just embryos.
They were babies.
Fully formed.
Tiny hands opening and closing, chests rising with shallow breaths, white-gold hair drifting in the golden currents inside the pod like threads of captured moonlight.
Three perfect, impossible miracles floating in my power.
“Miracle…” The young doctor—Elias—breathed the word like a prayer, eyes wide and shining, hands trembling at his sides as if he feared the crystal might shatter if he blinked too hard.
I smirked.
A slow, sharp curl of my lip that didn’t reach my eyes.
This was no miracle.
This was me.
Fucking Vuk Kael Lasković.
I did this—not some benevolent god, not fate, not luck.
I clawed the blackest parts of my soul open, mixed Lucifer’s rage with Selene’s cold light, and forged a womb from my own immortal blood so my children could live and my mate could breathe.
I bound their tiny, flickering lives to mine so tightly that every beat of my heart feeds them oxygen and fire.
Every scar on my body, every drop of black blood I’ve spilled, every century of rage and hunger—it all funneled into that pod.
Miracle?
No.
This was conquest.
This was ownership.
This was me refusing to let death—or weakness—take what belongs to me.
Elias finally tore his gaze from the pod long enough to look at me.
He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.
“They’re… stable, my lord. Heart rates strong and synchronized. Lung development is advanced—almost ready for air if the pod were opened. The hellfire acceleration is remarkable. No defects. No strain. They’re perfect.”
I gave a single nod.
“Good.”
He hesitated, then bowed low.
“If there’s nothing else—”
“There isn’t.”
My voice came out flat, final.
“Leave us.”
Elias backed away without another word, slipping out of the ritual room like smoke.
The heavy obsidian doors sealed behind him with a low, resonant thud.
I stayed a moment longer.
One of the babies—the smallest, the girl—turned her face toward the doorway leading to outside.
Her eyes were still sealed shut, but the movement was deliberate.
She knew Maureen was close.
They all did.
The bond thrummed between us—four heartbeats now tethered to mine, faint but fierce.
I pressed my palm to the crystal one last time.
Warmth flared under my skin.
Three tiny pulses answered, quick and bright.
“Soon,” I told the pod, voice low, palm flat against the warm crystal.
“She needs a little more time. Then I bring her to you.”
I turned and walked out.
Sunlight sliced through the East Wing windows, turning the black marble gold.
Guards snapped to attention as I passed—fists to chests, throats bared—but I didn’t see them.
My mind was already in our chambers, already braced for whatever state I’d find her in.
I shoved the double doors open.
Empty.
No silver hair on the pillows.
No fragile shape under the furs.
No Livia.
“Livia—where is she?”
The words came out rougher than I meant.
She appeared from the side passage almost instantly, bowing low.
“She went to the gardens, my lord. Insisted on walking alone. I dressed her in the cream sundress, sandals… she said she needed the sun, needed to feel something real. I stayed close enough to hear if she called.”
“Alone?”
My jaw tightened.
“She’s been awake one fucking day—”
“I’m okay…”
Maureen’s voice—soft, wind-touched—stopped me cold.
I spun.
She stood in the balcony doorway, one hand braced on the frame like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
The sundress fluttered around her knees—cream cotton, simple, sun-warmed.
Sandals dusted with garden soil.
Hair wild from the breeze, cheeks flushed, eyes still glassy from whatever had happened out there.
Livia murmured something quick and vanished, doors clicking shut behind her.
Maureen took two careful steps inside and dropped onto the couch near the hearth.
Hands folded tight in her lap.
Fingers twisting.
“Where were you?” she asked quietly.
The truth clawed up my throat.
I swallowed it down.
Pack matters.
That was all she could handle right now.
“Important business,” I said.
“South wing. Is something wrong?”
She shook her head once, slow.
“Everything feels wrong, Vuk. The jasmine… you planted all of it while I was gone. I saw it blooming and—” Her voice cracked.
“I saw you. Walking toward the ritual room. I called your name—twice. You didn’t stop. I tried to follow and the world just… dropped out from under me. Bright daylight, no shadows, and then black. I fainted right there in the flowers.”
My chest locked.
She’d seen me.
I crossed the room fast and went down on one knee in front of her.
Eye-level.
“You saw me because I was there,” I said, voice low and steady, the way I force it when I’m lying to save her.
“Routine pack business. Border reports. Nothing you need to worry about. The wind was loud—I didn’t hear you call. I’m sorry.”
Her silver eyes searched mine, troubled, flickering like moonlight on water.
“But Vuk…”
“No more, Maureen.”
I cut her off—soft, but final.
I leaned in, pressed my lips to her forehead, lingering there so she couldn’t see my face twist.
Gods, the lie tasted like iron.
“Come rest. Okay?”
She went still against me, breath catching once, then easing.
I felt the fight drain out of her—small, exhausted surrender.
Her fingers loosened in my shirt, head tipping heavier against my chest.
I held her tighter, arms locked like iron bands, as if I could physically keep the truth from reaching her.
Because that’s how I love her.
I carry the weight alone.
I keep her breathing.
I lie until the lie feels like mercy.
And when the day comes—when she’s strong enough—I’ll tell her everything.
Lay the pod at her feet.
Let her meet the three tiny hearts that almost killed her.
Let her hate me if she needs to.
I just pray—fiercely, silently—that when the truth finally spills out, she still looks at me the same way.