valkyrie pov
The night was alive with silence. Fever burned through me in relentless waves, making my skin ache, my limbs tremble, and my thoughts coil into something ugly. Every memory clawed at me—my life, my mother's deceit, my place in the pack… or the lack of it.
I am the bastard child of alpha draven Knightfall. An omega without a wolf. Unwanted, despised, abandoned. Every day, the pack reminds me of it. In their stares, their whispers and in the way they say my name through clenched teeth.
I hugged the thin blanket closer, shivering despite the heat blazing under my skin.
My thoughts drifted to her—Agatha Logan. My mother. She drugged the Alpha to conceive me, spun lies that humiliated the Luna, then abandoned me when I was five.
I shut my eyes, trying to push it all away, but the memories still clung. Every insult, every glare, every whispered word about the "bastard child" hammered into my skull like a drum. Why me? Why did my life feel like punishment from the moment I was born?
A soft knock broke through the haze of my thoughts. The door creaked open, and a shadow stepped inside.
Lucien.
"Valkyrie?" His voice was gentle, as if I were something fragile. "You're burning up again."
I forced my eyes open and lifted my head. The movement alone made the room spin. My body trembled violently, weak and unsteady.
He stepped closer, carrying a blanket, a small tray of food, and a vial of what was probably medicine. The smell of him, wood and faint sweetness wrapped around me. He wasn't supposed to care about me at all. And yet, here he was.
He draped the warm blanket over me, tucking it gently around my shoulders. "Eat this," he said softly, placing the food near me. "You'll feel worse if you don't."
I stared at the food but did not move. My hands were trembling too badly to lift anything. Pride told me to refuse. To send him away. To remind him that I did not need his pity.
"What's going through that head of yours?" he asked quietly. I could feel his eyes on me, searching my pale face.
I wanted to tell him everything, to scream that nothing good could live in me, that my life was a curse, that I was worthless. But I did not. My mouth was dry, my throat too tight, and the words retreated somewhere deep in my chest, refusing to leave.
Lucien sigh. "You don't have to face it alone, Valkyrie."
A bitter laugh rose in me, but I swallowed it down. Face it alone? That had been my life since I could remember.
The fever made my head spin harder, and a weak cough tore through my throat. My body folded forward before I could stop it.
Lucien moved instantly. His hand rubbed slow circles against my back while he murmured something low and steady. I could not even make out the words.
"You'll survive this," he murmured, like it was a promise. And maybe it was. Maybe, for once, someone was standing by me. Not because I was strong, not because I deserved it, but because he chose to.
"I'll stay," Lucien whispered. "Through the night. Don't try to push me away."
I did not argue.