QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)

Chapter 439: Seraphina

The door slams open.

Ethan storms in, his face bruised, his lip split, his clothes torn and muddy. He is breathing hard, his fists clenched at his sides.

I rise from my chair.

"Ethan!" I rush toward him. "What happened? Are you alright?"

He shoves my hand away.

"Do not touch me!" he snaps.

I recoil.

"Ethan—"

"I said do not touch me!" He storms past me, toward his room.

"Ethan, wait—"

"Leave me alone!"

He slams his door so hard the walls shake.

I stand frozen in the middle of the room. My heart is pounding. My hands are trembling. I have never seen him like this...so angry.

"He cannot speak to you like that," Theron says, stepping forward.

"He is just upset," I say. "He will calm down."

Kai speaks up. He does not speak much, so when he does, everyone listens.

"No, my mate. You have to control this behavior early on."

I do not respond. I do not know what to say.

"Hey!" Rylan shouts at Ethan’s door. "Come out and apologize to your mother!"

The door remains closed.

"Ethan, I know you can hear me—"

"Do not speak to my son like that."

Marcus’s voice cuts through the room. He steps forward, his eyes fixed on Rylan.

The room goes silent.

Everyone freezes.

I feel the air leave my lungs.

Marcus’s face pales—even he knows he has made a mistake. Saying something that is essentially taboo.

"Ha." Rylan scoffs.

The sound is sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.I close my eyes, knowing what is coming.

"Guess you have stopped pretending now, huh?" Theron says.

"His son." Rylan mocks.

"What was that you said last week?" Theron says.

"Oh, I think I remember, brother." Rylan chimes in.

"Oh yes—about how Ethan is our son."

"How it was illogical of us to want our own pups with our mate."

"And today—" Rylan spreads his hands. "He is your son."

"It was a mistake," Marcus tries.

"We all know it was not a mistake," Theron says. "Year after year, it has been obvious he is yours. You think we are fools—"

I walk out.

I can still hear them arguing as I make my way through the dark. The voices fade behind me, swallowed by the night. My feet carry me forward, away from the house, away from the lies, away from him.

I do not know where I am going.

But I know I cannot stay there.

I walk until the buildings thin out, until the lights of Redmoon are distant. I find myself in front of a small, dilapidated house—old and crooked, with smoke curling from its chimney.

I knock.

An old voice tells me to come in.

I push open the door and am hit with the scent of herbs and crushed leaves. The room is cluttered with trinkets and tiny jars, each one filled with something I cannot name. Bundles of dried plants hang from the ceiling. A fire crackles in the hearth.

This is the house of the oldest wolf in the pack—the pack healer and priest, Madam Vee. She is the one who foretold the prophecy of me being an Omega wolf with four mates who would unite the packs against the vampires.

I walk further in.

I find her at a wooden table, mixing leaves and powder into a jar. Her hands are gnarled, her movements slow and deliberate. She does not look up.

"What brings the esteemed Luna to this humble place?" she asks.

I stop in front of her.

"I need answers," I say.

She looks up. Her eyes are pale, milky with age. She sets down the jar.

"Sit," she says. "Tell me what troubles you."

I sit.

I tell her everything. About Ethan. About Marcus. About the lies and the arguments and the way everything feels like it is crumbling around me. It feels relieving, talking about my worries this way.

She listens. Her hands continue to work, crushing leaves, mixing powders. She does not look at me.

When I finish, she sets down her mortar and pestle.

"My dear," she says, "even the most in-love mates fizzle out. Even more so with four mates."

I stare at her.

"You do not understand," I say. "There have been more and more arguments lately. They are always fighting. They are always angry—"

"All mates argue," she says, waving a hand.

"This is not just arguing. This is—"

She merely shrugs in response.I feel my jaw tighten.

"Madam Vee—"

"You are overthinking," she says. "You are letting your worries cloud your judgment. The union among you five is a blessing from the goddess herself. Do not worry too much. The goddess does not make mistakes."

I look at her.

She meets my gaze. Her eyes are calm. Unconcerned.

I want to argue. I want to scream. I want to make her understand. But maybe I do not understand. She might be right.

"It is just," I say, my voice quieter now, "I thought Omega wolves were fertile. But it has been almost a decade, and I have not had other pups. The average wolf can have a minimum of four pups in their lifetime. I just do not understand."

Madam Vee is silent for a moment.

Then she picks up her mortar and pestle again.

"Pups are a blessing," she says. "They come when they are meant to come. Not when we wish them to."

"But—"

"You know how it depends on the goddess," she says. "And how can we mere mortals understand her?"

I look down. I blink back tears of frustration.

I clench my fists.

"Faith," I say quietly.

"Yes?"

"I have faith in the goddess."

"Then you have nothing to worry about."

I stay a few minutes longer, but I cannot bear it anymore. I stand. I thank her. I leave.

The door closes behind me.

I step into the moonlight.My wolf is restless inside me. She paces. She whines. She wants to run, to escape, to find somewhere safe.

I look at the moon.

Oh goddess, please protect my mating.

I do not know if she hears me. I do not know if she cares. But I pray anyway.

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