The drive back to the pack house felt like a funeral procession, each mile stretching the fragile thread of our mate bond thinner. My hands trembled on the steering wheel as Lyra paced restlessly in my mind, her distress bleeding into every nerve ending.

James's car pulled into the driveway ahead of mine, his movements sharp and agitated as he slammed the door. I struggled out of my own vehicle, my swollen belly making every motion awkward, and followed him into the pack house where several members had gathered in the main living area.

"James." My voice cut through the casual chatter, silencing the room. "We need to talk. Now."

He turned, his jaw already set in that stubborn line I'd come to know too well. "Not here, Sylvia."

"Yes, here." The words came out stronger than I felt, fueled by Lyra's anguish and my own desperate need for answers. "I want to know who Kennedy Barnes really is to you."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Beta Marcus shifted uncomfortably on the couch while Gamma Sarah suddenly found her phone fascinating. But I didn't care about their discomfort anymore. I was tired of pretending everything was fine.

"She's the daughter of a neighboring Alpha," James said carefully, his Alpha aura beginning to press against the room like a warning. "You know this."

"I know what you've told me." My voice cracked slightly. "But I also know what I saw at that cemetery. The way you held her, James. The way you looked at her. Like she was—"

"Enough." The Alpha command hit me like a physical blow, forcing my wolf to submit against her will. Lyra whimpered and cowered, but something deeper in me—something human and furious—refused to back down.

"Don't you dare use your Alpha tone on me," I snarled, my own voice taking on an edge I didn't know I possessed. "I'm your mate, not some pack member you can silence when the truth becomes inconvenient."

James's eyes flashed dangerously. "You're being hysterical. Pregnancy hormones—"

"This isn't about hormones!" The words exploded from me, echoing off the walls. "This is about the fact that you've never once looked at me the way you looked at her today. Never held me like I was something precious. Never called me by a nickname that made it sound like I was the center of your world."

The silence that followed was deafening. I could hear my own heartbeat, could feel the shocked stares of the pack members who'd witnessed our private pain laid bare. But what hurt most was the look on James's face—not denial, not confusion, but guilt so raw it confirmed every terrible suspicion.

That's when Lyra broke completely.

The howl that tore from my throat wasn't entirely human. It was pure wolf—anguish and betrayal and the devastating realization that the mate bond I'd believed in so completely had never truly existed. The sound filled the pack house, a keening wail that spoke of broken promises and shattered dreams.

Everyone in the room flinched. Even James stepped back, his face pale as he felt the echo of Lyra's pain through our weakened connection.

"Oh, Goddess," whispered Gamma Sarah, her hand pressed to her chest. "Her wolf... she's in agony."

James reached toward me, but I stumbled backward, my hands instinctively protecting my belly. "Don't touch me," I gasped, tears streaming down my face. "Don't you dare touch me when you smell like her."

Because I could smell it now—Kennedy's scent clinging to his clothes, his skin. Rain and wild roses, a fragrance that spoke of intimacy and comfort and everything I'd never been to him.

"Sylvia, please—" James started, but his words were cut off by a new voice.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Daisy burst through the front door, her Beta aura crackling with protective fury. She must have felt my distress through our sibling bond, because she went straight for James with the kind of righteous anger that made grown Alphas step back.

"How dare you use your Alpha command on a pregnant she-wolf?" she snarled, positioning herself between us. "On your own mate?"

"Stand down, Beta," James warned, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave that demanded submission.

But Daisy had inherited the same stubborn streak that ran in our family. "I will not stand down while you—"

"I said stand down!" The Alpha command this time was absolute, backed by the full weight of his authority. Daisy's knees buckled, her wolf forced into submission even as her human consciousness raged against it.

The sight of my sister—strong, fierce Daisy—being forced to her knees broke something fundamental inside me. This wasn't the mate bond I'd dreamed of. This wasn't the partnership I'd believed the Moon Goddess had blessed me with.

Before anyone could stop me, I turned and fled toward the stairs, Lyra's broken whimpers echoing in my mind as whispers followed in my wake.

"Did you hear that howl?"

"Something's wrong with their bond."

"I've never heard a wolf sound so... broken."

As I reached the top of the stairs, I caught sight of Luna Miller emerging from her private study, her cold eyes taking in the chaos below with calculating interest. When her gaze met mine, there was no sympathy, no maternal concern—only the cool assessment of a woman who viewed everything through the lens of pack politics and power.

Somehow, that look told me everything I needed to know about how much support I could expect from the Miller family in the days to come.

The morning after our confrontation brought no relief, only a suffocating tension that seemed to seep through every corner of the pack house. I sat at the kitchen table, mechanically spooning oatmeal into my mouth while trying to ignore the whispered conversations that died abruptly whenever I entered a room.

"This is exactly what I warned you about." Gamma Cynthia's sharp voice carried from the Alpha's office, her words slicing through the morning quiet like a blade. "Your lack of discretion is becoming a pack liability, James. Do you have any idea what the other Alphas are saying?"

I set down my spoon, my appetite vanishing entirely. Through our weakened mate bond, I could feel James's irritation spike, but there was something else there too—shame, maybe, or guilt.

"I don't need a lecture from my sister," came his clipped response.

"You need a lecture from someone," Cynthia shot back. "Mother's been fielding calls all morning. The Riverside Pack is questioning our stability. The Mountain Ridge Pack is wondering if we're fit to maintain our alliances. And your mate—" Her voice dropped, but I could still hear every venomous word. "Your mate made a spectacle of herself last night. That howl... everyone heard it, James. Everyone knows something's wrong."

Lyra whimpered in my mind, pressing closer to my consciousness as if seeking comfort. The physical pain had started three days ago—a constant ache in my chest that felt like someone was slowly tearing my heart apart. It wasn't normal pregnancy discomfort. This was something deeper, more primal. The deteriorating mate bond was affecting my wolf's ability to sustain both herself and the pup.

"The pack comes first," James said finally, his Alpha authority bleeding into his voice even through the closed door. "It always has. Always will."

"Then act like it," Cynthia snapped. "Stop running to that Barnes woman every time she calls. You have responsibilities here. A pregnant mate who—"

"Don't." The word came out as a low growl. "Don't tell me how to handle my mate."

I pushed back from the table, my hands shaking as I gripped the edge for support. The conversation continued, but I couldn't bear to hear any more. Instead, I made my way to the pack's administrative office, hoping that focusing on work might provide some distraction from the constant ache in my chest.

The morning passed in a blur of supply orders and territory reports. I'd always been good at the logistical side of pack management—something James had never bothered to acknowledge, but that kept our operations running smoothly. Today, though, the numbers swam before my eyes, and I found myself having to read each line multiple times.

"Luna Miller's been asking for the quarterly budget reports," Beta Marcus mentioned as he dropped off a stack of invoices. His voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the way his eyes lingered on my face, taking in what I knew must be obvious signs of strain.

"I'll have them ready by—" The words died in my throat as a sharp pain lanced through my chest. Not the dull ache I'd grown accustomed to, but something acute and devastating. Lyra let out a keening whine that only I could hear, her distress flooding through me like ice water.

The room tilted sideways. I reached for the desk, but my legs buckled, sending me crashing to the floor as darkness crept in around the edges of my vision. The last thing I heard was Marcus shouting for help, his voice seeming to come from very far away.

When awareness returned, I was being lifted by strong, steady arms. The scent that surrounded me wasn't James's familiar pine and earth—it was something warmer, more comforting. Cedar and rain, with an underlying sweetness that made Lyra stir with something that might have been recognition.

"I've got you," a deep voice murmured near my ear. "Just breathe, Sylvia. You're safe."

I opened my eyes to find myself cradled against Beta Huxley's chest, his dark eyes filled with a concern so genuine it made my throat tighten. For a moment, the constant ache in my chest eased, replaced by an unexpected warmth that seemed to flow from wherever his skin touched mine.

"Huxley?" I whispered, confused by the way Lyra had gone quiet for the first time in days, no longer whimpering in distress.

"The healer's waiting," he said softly, his arms tightening around me as he carried me toward the infirmary. "Everything's going to be okay."

As we passed the Alpha's office, I caught a glimpse of James through the open doorway. He was on the phone, his back turned to us, his voice low and urgent. "I'll be there as soon as I can, Kenny. The memorial service is more important than—"

His words cut off as he noticed us passing, his eyes meeting mine for a brief, devastating moment. I saw the choice written clearly in his expression—duty to his pack's pregnant Luna, or comfort for the woman who still held his heart.

He didn't move from behind his desk.

Huxley's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but his arms remained gentle around me as he continued toward the infirmary, his presence the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.