I left the infirmary three days later. No one came to escort me. The pack house, once my domain, felt like a foreign territory. My slippers made no sound on the hardwood floors as I wandered the halls like a ghost haunting her own life.

The shift in power was absolute. When I walked into the dining room, the Omegas didn't bow their heads. A young girl, barely sixteen, slapped a plate of cold toast and watery eggs on the table before turning her back on me. No fresh fruit. No warm blood-sausage to help me heal. Just scraps. I pushed the plate away, my stomach churning with nausea and hollow grief.

Upstairs, the heavy thud of luggage being dragged across the floorboards drew my attention. I stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, watching two burly Delta warriors carry a set of designer pink suitcases into the Alpha suite. Arielle’s things. They were moving her into my bedroom. My sanctuary. I didn't even have the energy to scream. The title of Luna felt like ash in my mouth. I had lost everything—my baby, my husband, my pack's respect.

But beneath the crushing weight of my despair, a nagging question clawed at my mind. *Why?* Why had my body failed so violently? Why was my wolf so weak that a simple shock had caused a miscarriage?

I needed to see my medical files. Dr. Thorne, the pack doctor, was fiercely loyal to Charles. He never let me see my own charts, claiming it would only upset me. But Charles kept copies of everything in his private study.

The house was quiet, most of the pack out for the afternoon patrol. I slipped down the corridor, my steps unnaturally silent. It was a survival skill I had honed over six years of walking on eggshells. The heavy oak door to Charles's study was locked, but I knew the keypad code. *His grandfather's birthday.* Typical.

The lock clicked green. I slipped inside, the scent of cedar and Charles's heavy pine aura making my throat tight. I hurried to the mahogany filing cabinet behind his desk. My fingers trembled as I rifled through the thick folders. *Financials. Border patrols. Hart Alliance.*

Then, I heard it. The heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots in the hallway.

"I don't care what the elders say, Marcus," Charles's voice echoed through the thick wood.

Panic seized my chest. I shoved the drawer shut, frantically scanning the room. The large supply closet in the corner was my only option. I darted inside, pulling the louvered door shut just a fraction of a second before the study door swung open.

I pressed my back against the cold wall, holding my breath. Through the narrow wooden slats of the closet door, I could see Charles walk to his desk, pouring himself a glass of amber liquid. Beta Marcus stood near the door, his posture stiff, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"The council is unsettled, Alpha," Marcus said, his voice strained with barely concealed discomfort. "Publicly shaming Claire... broadcasting her weak wolf form like that. It was cruel. And she just lost a pup."

Charles scoffed, taking a lazy sip of his drink. "She lost a parasite, Marcus. Nothing more."

I clamped a hand over my mouth to muffle a sob. *A parasite.* My baby.

"It's still your bloodline," Marcus argued, stepping forward. "If the Moon Goddess blessed you with a pup, even with a Hart—"

"The Moon Goddess had nothing to do with it," Charles snapped, slamming his glass onto the desk. The sharp crack made me flinch in the dark. "I've spent six years making sure that weak, pathetic woman never carried my heir. Do you know how hard it is to source liquid wolf-bane in those quantities without drawing attention?"

My blood turned to ice. *Wolf-bane?*

"You..." Marcus's voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "You've been taking contraceptives? Alpha, that's a direct violation of the mating laws. You told the pack she was cursed. You told *her* she was barren."

"And it worked perfectly," Charles said smoothly, a sickening smirk playing on his lips. "I took a low-grade wolf-bane extract every single day to suppress my seed. It kept her weak, too, bleeding through the bond. I never wanted to breed with a Hart. I only needed her family's money."

He leaned back in his leather chair, sighing as if discussing the weather. "I missed one dose during the River Pack summit. One damn dose, and the bitch got pregnant. But thankfully, the problem resolved itself. Arielle's little pregnancy stunt gave Claire just enough of a shock to trigger the miscarriage. Saved me a trip to a rogue abortion clinic."

Charles laughed. A dark, amused chuckle that vibrated right through the wooden slats and pierced my soul.

In the dark, dusty closet, my tears stopped falling. The crushing, suffocating grief that had drowned me for three days vanished, replaced by something entirely new.

Rage.

Pure, unadulterated, burning rage. My inner wolf, whom I thought had died with my pup, suddenly snapped her jaws in the back of my mind. Her eyes, usually a dull, defeated gray, flared an electric, blinding blue.

*He killed our pup,* she snarled, her voice vibrating with a terrifying, ancient power I had never felt before. *He killed our pup.*

I waited in the stifling darkness of the closet until the heavy oak door of the study clicked shut. The moment Charles and Marcus’s footsteps faded down the hall, I collapsed against the wall, my lungs burning as I gasped for air.

My hands were shaking, but not from sorrow. The tears that had drowned me for the past three days evaporated, leaving behind a scorching, barren wasteland in my chest. *Wolf-bane.* The word echoed in my skull, a toxic drumbeat. For six years, I had prayed to the Moon Goddess. I had endured Charles’s cold glares, the council’s whispers, and the pack’s pity. I had hated my own body, believing I was a broken vessel. All while my mate was actively, deliberately poisoning our bond. He had killed our pup.

I slipped out of the closet and ran up the grand staircase. I ignored the sight of Arielle's pink designer luggage piled in the corner of the master suite. Yanking a small duffel bag from the top shelf of my closet, I haphazardly shoved in a few basic items of clothing, my ID, and my grandmother's silver comb.

My inner wolf, nameless and suppressed under Charles’s heavy dominance for years, paced furiously in the back of my mind. Her eyes, usually a dull, defeated gray, now glowed an electric, blinding blue. *We leave,* she snarled, her voice vibrating with an ancient, terrifying power I didn't recognize. *Now.*

I marched back down the stairs, the duffel bag slung over my shoulder. Charles was standing in the grand foyer, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit, preparing to leave for the afternoon patrol. He looked up, his brow furrowing in irritation at the sight of my bag.

"Where do you think you're going, Claire?" he demanded, his tone dripping with condescension.

"Home," I spat, my voice remarkably steady. I stopped a few feet away from him, staring into the dark eyes of the monster I had married. "I, Claire Hart, demand a formal rejection. Reject me, Charles, so I can leave this cursed territory."

Charles laughed, a dry, mocking sound that scraped against my nerves. "You're delusional. Go back upstairs. You're embarrassing yourself."

"I heard you," I said, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. The amusement instantly vanished from his face. "In the study. The liquid wolf-bane. You suppressed your seed. You poisoned me through our bond. You killed my baby, Charles."

A flicker of surprise crossed his features, quickly replaced by cold, hard calculation. He didn't even bother to deny it. He just adjusted his Rolex and sighted. "You were eavesdropping. How un-Luna-like of you."

"Reject me!" I screamed, the raw agony tearing at my throat.

"No," Charles snapped, stepping into my space. The pine scent of his aura flared, thick and suffocating. "If you leave, the Hart family pulls their financial stipends. I lose the southern territory access. I won't let you bankrupt my pack because you're throwing a hormonal tantrum."

He only cared about the money. Not the pup. Not me. Just the Hart family's wealth.

"I don't care about your pack!" I turned on my heel, lunging for the heavy brass handles of the front doors. "I reject you, Charles Kennedy! I reject—"

"SUBMIT!"

The Alpha Command hit me like a freight train.

It wasn't just a loud voice; it was a visceral, supernatural force that slammed into my spine. My knees buckled instantly, cracking against the hard marble floor. I gasped as an invisible, crushing weight pressed down on my shoulders, forcing my head to bow. My inner wolf howled in agony, fighting the unnatural submission, but my weakened physical body betrayed me. I was pinned to the floor, panting, completely paralyzed by his dominance.

Charles walked over, his polished dress shoes entering my line of sight. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back so I was forced to look up at him. Tears of pain pricked my eyes, but I glared at him with pure hatred.

"You don't get to reject me, Claire," he hissed, his voice vibrating with Alpha power. "You don't get to leave. You are my mate. You are my property. And you will stay exactly where I put you until I decide you are useful to me again."

He released my hair, letting my head snap forward, and grabbed my arm. He dragged me down the east wing, my legs struggling to keep up under the lingering weight of his command. He shoved me into the small, windowless guest quarters and turned to the two Delta warriors standing at the end of the hall.

"Guard this door," Charles barked. "She doesn't take a single step outside."

The heavy door slammed shut, and the deadbolt clicked. I was a prisoner.

I crawled onto the narrow, scratchy mattress, pulling my knees to my chest. An hour passed in total silence before I heard hushed voices outside the door.

"Alpha's orders, Beta Marcus. No one goes in," a guard grunted.

"She just had a miscarriage," Marcus's voice pleaded through the thick wood, thick with guilt and conflict. "I just brought her some warm broth and bread. Let me pass. She needs to eat."

"No exceptions, Beta. Alpha Charles was clear."

A heavy beat of silence followed. I waited, holding my breath, hoping Marcus would finally stand up to his brother. Instead, I heard Marcus curse softly. The heavy thud of a tray being set on a nearby console table echoed through the wall, followed by his retreating footsteps. He knew what Charles was doing, yet he still walked away.

I sat alone in the dark. Charles thought he had broken me. He thought his Alpha Command had crushed my spirit and reduced me to a compliant pawn. But as I closed my eyes, the electric blue gaze of my wolf flared to life in the darkness of my mind.

*Let him think we are broken,* she whispered, her voice a deadly promise. *The fire is just beginning.*

I was trapped in that stifling, windowless room for days before the deadbolt finally clicked open. I braced myself on the scratchy mattress, expecting Beta Marcus with another tray of pity-laced scraps, or Charles returning to enforce his suffocating Alpha command.

Instead, the heavy oak door swung open to reveal a pair of pristine white stilettos.

Arielle stepped into the dim light. She held a silver tray bearing a bowl of steaming soup. Her golden hair was perfectly styled, her skin glowing—a stark, mocking contrast to my matted hair and hollow cheeks.

"Poor little Luna," she cooed, kicking the door shut behind her with a soft click.

She set the tray on the small console table. Then, she reached into the pocket of her designer cardigan and pulled out a small glass vial filled with a murky, amber liquid.

Deep within my mind, my inner wolf, Selene, let out a weak, raspy growl. *Poison.*

"What is that?" I croaked, my throat raw from days of silent weeping.

Arielle smiled, a sickly sweet expression that didn't reach her cold eyes. She uncorked the vial. Right in front of me, she poured the liquid into the soup. It hissed slightly upon hitting the hot broth, emitting a faint, bitter, metallic odor that made my stomach churn.

"Just your daily vitamins, Claire," she purred. "You’ve been taking them for years. Did you really think Charles was the only one making sure you never had a pup?"

My blood ran cold. The room seemed to tilt on its axis. "You..."

"I’ve been spiking your meals since the day I arrived at the Blood Moon pack," she whispered, leaning down so her vanilla-laced scent choked the air from my lungs. "Wolf-bane and suppressants. A special, slow-acting blend from my... friends. It keeps your pathetic wolf too weak to shift, too weak to fight back, and far too weak to breed."

She pushed the bowl toward the edge of the table. "Eat up. Charles will be so disappointed if you starve to death before he's done with you."

I lunged forward with the last ounce of my strength and shoved the tray. The ceramic bowl shattered against the wall, sending hot broth and amber poison splashing across her expensive shoes. Arielle merely laughed—a high, grating sound that scraped against my eardrums—and turned on her heel.

"Suit yourself, Claire. But you'll eat it eventually."

Three weeks bled into one continuous, agonizing nightmare.

I survived on the meager, unspiked bread crusts Marcus managed to sneak in when the guards weren't looking, but my body was a hollow, trembling shell. My collarbones jutted sharply against my pale skin. Selene was nothing but a flickering candle in the back of my mind, fighting a desperate battle just to keep our heart beating.

Then came the storm.

Thunder rattled the stone walls of my prison, masking the sound of the lock sliding back. Charles stood in the doorway. He wore a heavy black raincoat, raindrops clinging to his broad shoulders. He tossed a set of car keys onto my mattress, followed by a thick, sealed manila envelope.

"Get up," he commanded. His Alpha tone was a physical weight, forcing my trembling legs to obey and stand.

"What is this?" I asked, clutching the envelope to my chest to hide my shaking hands.

"A test of loyalty," Charles said coldly, his eyes sweeping over my frail form with blatant disgust. "Take these confidential documents to the northern border outpost. Hand them directly to the patrol Alpha. If you do this without trying to run, I might consider giving you the run of the pack house again."

I looked at the windowless wall. The storm outside sounded like the wrath of the Moon Goddess herself, wind howling like a dying beast. "In this weather?"

"It's a simple drive, Claire. Unless you're too weak even for that."

I knew it was a setup. Charles never gave second chances, and he certainly didn't trust me with pack secrets. But it was also an open door. If I had the keys to a vehicle, I had a chance to escape.

Twenty minutes later, the rain was a solid, blinding gray sheet against the windshield of the old pack SUV. The wipers thrashed frantically, barely clearing the glass as I navigated the treacherous, winding cliffside road that led to the northern border. Mud and loose rocks slipped down the steep embankments, slicking the asphalt.

Inside my head, Selene paced frantically. *Danger,* she whimpered, her voice fragile and laced with panic. *Turn back, Claire. Trap.*

"I can't," I whispered, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. "We have to get out of the territory. We just have to push through."

But my reflexes were entirely shot. The years of poison and the trauma of the miscarriage had left my muscles trembling and my vision blurred.

As I rounded a sharp, blind bend, high beams suddenly flared in my rearview mirror. A massive, lifted black truck surged out of the darkness. It didn't have pack plates.

Rogues.

*Arielle's friends,* I realized with a jolt of pure, paralyzing terror. She hadn't sent me to the border to test my loyalty. She had sent me out here to eliminate me permanently, with Charles's unwitting—or perhaps willing—help.

The truck accelerated with a deafening roar, slamming violently into my rear bumper. The SUV lurched forward. I screamed, slamming my foot on the gas, but the wet tires spun uselessly on the slick asphalt.

Suddenly, another set of headlights blinded me from the front. A second rogue truck had parked sideways, completely blocking the narrow road ahead.

I slammed on the brakes. The tires locked, screaming against the wet road. The SUV spun out of control, sliding sideways toward the crumbling edge of the cliff.

The first truck didn't stop. It rammed into my passenger side with the devastating force of a wrecking ball. Metal shrieked and twisted. The passenger window exploded inward, showering me in sharp, biting shards of glass.

The world tilted violently.

The metal guardrail snapped like a dry twig under the weight of the SUV. For one terrifying, weightless second, the car hung in the air above the gaping, black ravine.

Then, gravity took hold.

We plummeted into the dark abyss. The last thing I heard before the devastating, crushing impact of the rocks below was Selene's final, desperate howl fading into the storm.