MAEVE'S POV
I woke up with my cheek pressed against a soft surface.
Moss-covered ground.
Groggily, I pushed myself up, only to be startled by the breathtaking world displayed before me.
It was nothing like the world I had left behind.
Impossibly tall trees surrounded me, their branches stretching endlessly into the sky. Despite the nightfall, I could see everything clearly, as though bathed in daylight.
Ethereal lights filled the air, far more vibrant than the northern lights.
And that was how I knew.
I was dead.
Surprisingly, it didn't feel so bad.
I didn't mind it.
For one, I wasn't in pain. There were no aches in my bones, no bruises staining my skin. It was a far cry from the life I had known—a life filled with suffering.
I took a tentative step forward, drawn toward the glowing lights.
Then, movement.
A silhouette emerged ahead—a woman. I squinted, straining to get a better look.
She seemed familiar, like someone I shared a deep and everlasting connection with.
Mama.
A gasp left my lips.
Tears welled in my eyes as a single thought crashed over me.
If Mama was here… then this had to be heaven.
I had forgotten what my mother looked like, but deep in my soul, I had always believed that if I ever saw her, I would recognize her instantly.
And I did.
Hope surged through me, propelling me forward as I broke into a run. Up close, she was even more perfect than I had imagined.
"Mama!" I screamed, pure joy swelling in my chest as I rushed to her, throwing my arms around her.
Tears gushed down my face as I clung to her, never wanting to let go.
She felt like home—a half-forgotten song, a burst of joyous laughter, a warm after a cold, bitter night.
She ran soft fingers through my hair, and I sighed in contentment, resting my head against her chest.
"My beautiful child," she murmured, her voice the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. "I'm sorry for all that you have endured. Your mother is so proud of who you've become. And while I may not have birthed you, I am your mother all the same. Maeve, I love you just as she would have."
Her words sent a jolt through me.
Slowly, I pulled back, my gaze searching hers.
My lips parted, trembling with the urge to call her a liar.
No.
Please, no.
Don't tell me you aren't her.
My chest tightened painfully. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry.
She must have seen the devastation on my face because she gently brushed loose strands of hair from my eyes and cupped my shoulders with a touch both firm and impossibly soft.
"Maeve," she whispered, her voice like the wind rustling through the trees. "I am your mother, and her mother before her. I am the moon and the trees, the grass and the moss. I have listened to every prayer you have whispered, heard every cry of yours. I am every wolf who has ever howled in tune with your sorrow."
The world around us trembled with her words. Her silver eyes glowed, shifting into full moons.
The realization struck me like a divine force, and yet… it made perfect sense.
I took in my surroundings, the glowing trees, the sky filled with celestial light—this world was hers.
Her domain.
My breath caught in my throat.
"Moon Goddess," I whispered in awe.
I dropped to my knees, bowing my head in reverence. Shame burned through me. I had held her in my arms. I had clung to her, demanded things from her.
I had sinned.
I had committed a crime worthy of punishment.
"Forgive me," I pleaded, my voice shaking. "Please."
But instead of condemnation, she lifted me gently, pulling me back into her embrace.
I let myself be held, let myself melt into the comfort of her arms, desperate for this moment to last forever.
A slice of infinity later, she pulled back, tilting my chin up so I could meet her gaze.
"My child," she murmured.
"Goddess," I breathed, honored beyond words.
"You need to finish what you started," she said, her voice filled with a strong compulsion. "For your future and for the future of your pack."
I knew what she meant.
She wanted me to go back. Back to the cruel, harsh reality that had shattered me into pieces.
No.
I didn't have a future there.
I didn't want a future there.
There was nothing left for me in that world.
But here… here, I could stay. With her. And maybe—just maybe—I could even see my mother again.
I swallowed thickly, my voice weak and small.
"Mother Selene," I said, calling her by her ancient name. Tears welled in my eyes as I clutched at the last fraying thread of my hope. "I have nothing to go back to. No loved ones waiting for me. No friends hoping to see me again. Please—let me stay."
"Child, would you condemn an innocent to death before they even get a chance to live?"
"What?" I gasped. "I would never!"
Her question had caught me completely off guard.
"Then why would you condemn your own child to death before he has the chance to draw his first breath?"
My mind reeled. Confusion clouded my thoughts.
I didn't have a child. Not anymore.
The Moon Goddess seemed to read my mind. Her knowing smile, along with her next words, confirmed it.
"You still have a child, Maeve."
Gently, she placed a hand over my stomach.
"Asha lies within you, and he must be born. He holds the hope of your werewolf pack—and your future as well."
I froze.
My breath caught in my throat as her words sank in.
Pregnant.
I was pregnant.
Tears welled in my eyes as I shakily placed my hand over hers, pressing against my stomach as if to feel the life growing within me.
I wasn't alone. I hadn't lost everything.
"Now, go!" she commanded, her voice filled with divine certainty. "And know that I am watching over you, no matter how bleak things may seem."
With those parting words, she pressed a light kiss to my forehead.
And just like that—
The world around me melted away.
* * *
I woke up with a start.
My chest rose as I gasped for air.
My eyes flung open, taking in the blinding fluorescent lights suspended from the ceiling. The overwhelming scent of antiseptic filled my lungs, and it didn't take much to realize where I was.
A hospital.
I had most likely been brought here by the person who ran me over. I had suffered a brutal fall, yet I barely felt any pain. Painkillers, maybe.
I was probably drowning in them.
"You're awake," a deep voice spoke from a corner of the room.
It was undeniably male—rich, smooth, and oddly soothing. A moment later, the voice was joined by a face.
A startlingly handsome face. Alluring was a better word.
Chocolate-brown eyes stared down at me, studying me with an attention I wasn't accustomed to. And was that… concern?
I hardly ever received looks of concern from anyone. I didn't quite know what to do with it.
As if sensing my distress, he shot me a quick, reassuring smile—mostly apologetic.
"I'm sorry. There was an accident. I hit you with my car, and you suffered a nasty head injury. Thankfully, I got you here in time."
"How long have I been out?" I asked, attempting to sit up.
The stranger—who I now noticed was blond, with a mop of curly hair that had a habit of falling into his eyes—immediately reached forward to help me.
"Twelve hours," he said, adjusting my pillows with careful precision.
Everything about the way he moved was gentle, considerate. It was… unfamiliar to me.
"You needed surgery," he continued. "It lasted a couple of hours. You've been asleep since then."
I studied him closely, giving him a quick once-over.
He had a five o'clock shadow—most likely from spending half a day in the hospital with me. There were faint laugh lines around his eyes.
Even without knowing him, I could tell—he was a man who smiled often.
Without meaning to, I thought about Ivan.
I thought about the way he had smiled at Serena, completely unapologetic about how deeply his cruelty had cut me.
I wondered if he knew what had happened to me. And if he did—though that was highly unlikely—I wondered if he cared.
Judging by how effortlessly he had discarded me at dinner, I wasn't about to hold my breath.
I returned my gaze to the blond stranger.
He was studying me just as intently as I had been studying him.
Something about my expression must have amused him because the corners of his lips lifted into a warm smile. I was caught off guard.
His smile was brilliant. Awe-striking, even. It was warm and incredibly masculine all at once.
I quickly looked away, clearing my throat. "Have you been here the whole time?"
"Yeah," he said, his deep voice rumbling softly. For some reason, the sound was oddly comforting. "I've been here the whole time. I couldn't bring myself to leave, seeing as I'm the one who landed you here in the first place. I'm Devon, by the way. Devon Lockwood."
I hesitated before responding.
"I'm Maeve Cro-" I stopped myself. I wasn't a Cross anymore. "Maeve Oakes. I am Maeve Oakes."
"Maeve." He tested my name on his tongue, his brown eyes still locked onto mine. Before I could react, he added, "The doctor will be here soon to check your vitals."
As if on cue, a middle-aged man waltzed into the room. He had sharp gray eyes and wore round-rimmed spectacles.
His coat was pristine white—just like the rest of the sterile room. His name tag read Dr. Gaines.
"You're finally awake," he said with a warm smile. I seemed to be receiving a lot of smiles today. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel dizzy. Numb."
"That's because of the medication," Dr. Gaines explained. "You needed it to manage the pain. And also—"
He hesitated, glancing between me and Devon. My stomach clenched.
"What?" I pressed, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Devon gave him a reassuring nod. "It's fine, doc. Go ahead and tell her."
Dr. Gaines turned back to me, his warm smile still in place—though his gaze held a hint of curiosity.
"You're six weeks pregnant."