Chapter 27 The Price of Innocence
Evie:
By the time afternoon light filtered through the tower windows, I felt like I’d already lived three days inside one morning.
Sleep hadn’t helped.
The calm hadn’t lasted.
The bruises throbbed under the dress like leftover shadows.
“Ready?” Harrow asked from the doorway.
Not really.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Vivian kissed my forehead before I left. “If someone even looks at you wrong, I’ll...”
“I know,” I said gently. “But let me try today. Please.”
Her jaw clenched, but she nodded.
Helena handed me a small silver brooch, the Luna Crest , and pinned it to my chest herself.
“You earned this,” she whispered. “Don’t let them forget.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I’ll try.”
“Trying,” Helena said, “is already more than they deserve.”
Harrow led me through the halls.
Eyes followed us. Soft whispers trailed.
Some looked ashamed. Some curious. Some… resentful.
But no one stopped us.
That small mercy was enough to keep me moving.
My destination was the Luna Wing’s community hall, a place where mothers brought children for care, where healers taught young wolves how to shift safely, where pack women coordinated festivals and rituals.
It used to feel warm.
Today it felt like a room I’d trespassed into.
I pushed open the double doors.
Silence.
Sharp and immediate.
A cluster of mothers stood near the center, mid-conversation. Their words died as soon as they saw me. A few bowed slightly. Most stiffened.
One whispered, “She came.”
Another, “Is it even allowed?”
And someone else, “She has an escort… like she’s dangerous.”
I tried to smile. I really did.
“Good afternoon,” I said gently. “I’m here to assist with scheduling for the pup-healing rotation and the elder visitations...”
A woman stepped forward.
Not aggressively, which somehow made it worse.
“Luna Evangeline,” she said, voice evenly polite. “We… appreciate your effort. But perhaps today is too soon.”
My stomach tightened.
“I’m cleared,” I reminded her softly. “Officially. You saw the broadcast.”
“That was one night,” she said carefully. “But emotions run deep. Maybe if you came tomorrow...”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
Harrow shifted uncomfortably behind me.
“I’m here now,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “And I would like to resume my duties.”
Another mother, younger and less controlled, muttered too loudly, “She shouldn’t be near the pups.” With that she pushed her pups behind her.
The words hit harder than any slap. The actions felt like a whip.
My wolf whimpered inside me, soft and wounded.
We protect pups. Not harm. Why they say this?
“I would never hurt a child,” I said quietly.
No one responded. I turned to the nearest elder healer, who hesitated before speaking.
“Luna Evangeline… perhaps we should let things settle?”
Settle. As if my presence was a storm. As if my innocence needed time to be believed. As if the truth needed to be digested before I could exist again.
My throat burned.
“I understand,” I said. Because what else could I say? “If that’s what makes the pack feel safe, I… understand.”
Some of them softened. Some didn’t.
I turned to leave. But fate likes cruelty layered upon cruelty.
The door opened, and several adolescent wolves, around seventeen, eighteen, spilled in, roughhousing, laughing. They stopped when they saw me.
Their faces flickered with several emotions:
Recognition.
Curiosity.
Disdain.
One boy smirked. “Oh. The Luna’s here. Should we bow, or would she throw us off the balcony?”
His friends snickered.
Heat flooded my face.
Harrow stepped forward, but I lifted a hand.
“No. It’s alright.”
The boy shrugged. “Just saying what everyone’s thinking.”
“No,” a girl muttered, glaring at him. “Not everyone.”
Another boy snorted. “Come on, she got cleared because her family runs half the city...”
“Harrow,” I said sharply. “Do not respond.”
He looked torn.
I turned to the teens, forcing every piece of dignity I could gather into my voice.
“I will not be disrespected,” I said quietly. “You may dislike me. You may doubt me. But you will not speak that way in the Luna Wing.”
The room went still. Then a voice spoke from behind me:
“She’s right.”
My heart stopped.
Grayson stood in the doorway.
A cold, imposing silhouette framed by the afternoon light. The teens stiffened instantly.
I turned, cautiously, painfully, to face him.
He walked in. Not towards me. Just… into the room.
“Disrespecting the Luna violates pack law,” he said calmly. “Apologize.”
The teens apologized in mumbled, frantic rushes.
My breath trembled. Just a fraction.
Because for one moment, one heartbeat, I thought he was about to defend me.
But then he added:
“Your behavior reflects poorly on the Alpha line.”
Not on how they hurt me. Not on justice. Not on truth.
Just on the Alpha line.
They apologized again.
Grayson dismissed them with a small gesture.
Then he turned to me.
His eyes flicked to Harrow. To the women. To the mothers avoiding my gaze.
Then finally back to me.
“I heard there was… tension,” he said.
“It’s nothing,” I lied.
His jaw tightened.
“It shouldn’t happen again.”
The softness of the sentence almost fooled me, until he finished it:
“For the pack’s image.”
The air left my lungs.
Of course. The pack's image.
Always image. Always the duty, but never me.
I bowed slightly. “I understand.”
He studied me for a moment, a long, unreadable moment, his wolf screaming through the bond while he stood completely still.
“Return to your quarters,” he said quietly. “This isn’t productive.”
There was no anger in his voice. No cold venom, and.... distance. And somehow that hurt the most.
I nodded.
As I walked past him, our shoulders nearly brushed.
He didn’t look at me. But I felt every ounce of the war inside him. The conflict, the wolf’s pain, the grief, the guilt, and the denial.
I kept walking. Harrow followed. Vivian’s voice echoed at the hallway’s end:
“Did he defend you?”
I stopped. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say he tried.
But the truth stuck like ice in my throat.
“No,” I whispered. “He defended the pack.”
Vivian’s face cracked.
She pulled me into her arms, and for the first time since the marriage, I let myself sob.
Quietly. Hollowly. Safely.
Because the worst part wasn’t the humiliation or the whispers or the rules.
The worst part was realizing:
Grayson was protecting everything…
except me.