Chapter 1

Toric tensed every muscle, braced for my questioning, my collapse, or hysterical sobbing and clawing—but I did none of that. I just knelt in the center of the living room, hugging that portrait, crying so hard my whole body shook. My tears soaked the face of 'Toric' in the frame. His expression stiffened for a moment, clearly not expecting me to accept his 'death' so readily. After all, in the news that had reached the tribe, it was clearly Silas—the twin brother with the crescent-shaped birthmark on the inner side of his right arm—who had been killed by the silver dagger. "Luna..." He reached out awkwardly as if to support me, but I grabbed his wrist. My nails dug viciously into the bandage wrapped around his forearm. That spot should have held the crescent moon birthmark, but he had gouged it out to impersonate his brother. Pain made his muscles spasm, but he forced himself to endure it when he met my tear-filled eyes. "Grieve properly," his Adam's apple bobbed, "Alpha's spirit in heaven wouldn't want you to keep suffering like this." "You're right." I suddenly let go of his wrist and wiped away my tears. "I should pull myself together." After all, from today onwards, I, Thalia, was officially a widow. That meant I wouldn't need anyone's permission to terminate the pregnancy I was carrying. People always said Toric and Silas were so alike even their own mother couldn't tell them apart. Toric himself believed that after removing the birthmark, impersonating his brother would be flawless. Unfortunately, he was wrong. Even without that birthmark, no matter how perfectly he mimicked Silas's gait and tone, some things could never be faked. Moreover, I was his mate. How could a mate fail to recognize their other half bonded by the mate bond? In my past life, I was foolish enough to grab every pack member, screaming hysterically to prove: "The one alive is Toric! Silas is dead!" But Toric stubbornly refused to admit it, and Evelyn even slapped me publicly: "Can't stand being a widow, so you try to steal someone else's man?" Gradually, the looks from the pack shifted from pity to annoyance. It wasn't until I was tested and found pregnant that I regained a flicker of hope. I thought, once the child was born, Toric would surely acknowledge us, right? During that time, he was indeed gentler. Although he still insisted he was 'Silas', he would come to take care of me. When the infant's cry filled the delivery room, he grasped my sweat-soaked hand and said, "You've worked hard, Thalia!" That single sentence banished all my doubts. Silas had only ever called me “Luna”. Exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke, the cradle was empty. Toric sat by the bed, his face etched with deep sorrow: "The baby... couldn't be saved. Sudden respiratory distress." Once again, he spoke those words to me: "Luna, grieve properly..."