I stared at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, my hands trembling so badly I nearly dropped it into the chipped sink of the Omega quarters. Three years. Three years of stolen moments in Sebastian's office after midnight, of whispered promises in the dark, of believing that love could somehow bridge the gap between an Alpha heir and a wolfless Omega like me.

Now I had proof that our connection was real. Undeniable.

I pressed my palm against my still-flat stomach, a nervous smile tugging at my lips. This changed everything. Sebastian would have to acknowledge me now. He'd defy his father, Marcus Stone, and claim me as his true mate. We'd finally stop hiding.

I pulled on my best dress—a simple navy blue thing I'd saved two months of kitchen wages to buy—and tried to tame my dark hair into something presentable. The mirror showed me what I always saw: plain features, tired eyes, the look of someone who scrubbed floors and served meals to wolves who barely noticed I existed.

But tonight would be different.

The grand ballroom blazed with light when I slipped through the servant's entrance. Crystal chandeliers cast golden shadows across hundreds of pack members dressed in their finest. I pressed myself against the back wall, searching for Sebastian's face in the crowd.

There. On the raised platform at the front, looking every inch the Alpha he was born to be. My heart stuttered. Even from here, I could see the sharp line of his jaw, the confident set of his shoulders. In a few minutes, he'd accept the Alpha title from his father, and then—

"It is my honor," Sebastian's voice rang out, commanding instant silence, "to announce not only my acceptance of the Alpha title, but also a union that will reshape the future of the West Coast packs."

My breath caught. He was going to announce us. Finally.

"Arielle Tucker, daughter of Alpha Tucker, has agreed to become my mate. Together, the Silverclaw and Tucker territories will merge, creating the ultimate superpower pack."

The world tilted.

I watched, frozen, as a stunning blonde woman glided onto the stage. She wore a dress that probably cost more than I'd earn in a year, diamonds glittering at her throat. Sebastian pulled her close, and the crowd erupted in cheers as he kissed her.

The perfect couple. The perfect alliance.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. My hand found the wall behind me, the only thing keeping me upright as applause thundered through the ballroom.

Somehow, I made it to his private study. Muscle memory from all those secret nights guided my feet up the back stairs, down the hallway where no Omega should ever walk. I didn't knock. Just pushed open the heavy oak door.

Sebastian stood by the window, still in his ceremonial robes. He turned, and something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe guilt—before his expression hardened.

Then the scent hit me. Rain and wildflowers, so intense it made my knees weak. It filled the room, filled my lungs, sang through my blood with an urgency I'd never felt before.

Mate bond.

Sebastian's eyes flashed gold, his wolf rising to the surface. For one heartbeat, I saw hunger there, recognition, need—

He crushed it down, his jaw clenching. "You shouldn't be here."

"Three years," I whispered. "Three years, Sebastian. You said you loved me."

"I said a lot of things." His voice was cold, nothing like the warmth I remembered. "Things that were... convenient at the time."

The words hit like a physical blow. "Convenient?"

"Did you really think I'd claim a wolfless Omega as my Luna?" He moved to his desk, putting distance between us. "My father would never allow it. The pack would never accept it."

"But the mate bond—"

"Means nothing compared to duty." He straightened, and suddenly he wasn't the man who'd held me in the dark. He was Alpha Sebastian Stone, and I was nothing. "I, Sebastian Stone, Alpha of the Silverclaw Pack, reject you, Wren Russell, as my mate."

The words burned through me like acid, searing something deep in my chest. I gasped, doubling over as pain radiated outward from my heart.

"Sebastian, please—" I forced myself upright, one hand still pressed to my stomach. "I'm pregnant."

Silence. For a moment, just a moment, something cracked in his expression.

Then his face turned to stone. He opened a desk drawer, pulled out a checkbook, and scribbled something with sharp, angry strokes. He ripped out the check and held it toward me.

"There's a clinic two towns over. They're discreet. This should cover it."

I stared at the check, at the cold numbers that were supposed to erase our child. "You can't be serious."

"Fix this problem, Wren. Come back when it's done, and we can continue as we were. You'll have your place in my bed, and I'll make sure you're comfortable." His eyes were empty. "Or refuse, and I'll have you exiled as a rogue before sunrise. Your choice."

The check fluttered from his hand to the floor between us.

I looked at it. At him. At the future I'd imagined crumbling to ash.

"What happened to you?" My voice broke.

"I became what I was always meant to be." He turned back to the window, dismissing me. "An Alpha. Now get out."

I left the check where it fell and walked out, each step feeling like I was wading through broken glass. Behind me, I heard something shatter—maybe he'd thrown his whiskey glass—but I didn't look back.

I couldn't.

The hallway blurred through my tears. I pressed one hand against the wall, the other still cradling my stomach like I could protect the tiny life inside from the words that had just shattered my world.

Then the alarms screamed.

The sound pierced through my grief, sharp and urgent. Red emergency lights flooded the corridor, turning everything the color of blood. Somewhere below, glass shattered. Voices shouted. The building groaned like a wounded animal.

"Rogues! Rogues at the perimeter!"

I stumbled forward, trying to orient myself. The servant stairs—I needed to get to the servant stairs. My feet tangled in the hem of my stupid dress, the one I'd bought thinking tonight would be different.

The explosion hit before I could reach the stairwell.

The world turned sideways. The floor buckled beneath me, and I was falling, arms flailing for something, anything to grab. My shoulder slammed into the wall. Then something massive crashed down from above.

Pain exploded across my back and legs as a wooden beam pinned me to the floor. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Dust filled my lungs, choking me as I tried to scream.

The beam was crushing me. I clawed at the floor, trying to drag myself forward, but my legs wouldn't respond. Panic flooded through me, cold and sharp.

The baby. Oh god, the baby.

"Help!" My voice came out as a rasp, barely audible over the chaos. "Someone—please!"

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Fast. Inhumanly fast.

Sebastian appeared through the smoke, his Alpha speed making him blur at the edges. His eyes found me, widened. For one heartbeat, I saw something human there—horror, maybe even regret.

"Sebastian." I reached out, my fingers stretching toward him. "Please."

He took a step forward.

Then Arielle's scream cut through the air.

I watched his head snap toward the sound. Watched him calculate. Watched the moment duty won over whatever flicker of feeling he might have had left.

"Sebastian, I'm pregnant," I gasped out. "Your child—"

But he was already moving. Away from me. Toward her.

He scooped Arielle into his arms like she weighed nothing, her perfectly styled hair barely mussed, her designer dress still pristine. She wasn't even injured. Just scared.

I was dying, carrying his child, and he chose her.

"Sebastian!" The word tore from my throat, raw and desperate.

He didn't look back.

The ceiling groaned above me. Chunks of plaster rained down, and I threw my arms over my head, trying to protect my stomach. The beam shifted, pressing harder. I felt something warm and wet spreading beneath me.

No. No, no, no.

I don't know how long I lay there. Seconds? Minutes? Time stretched and compressed, marked only by the sound of my own ragged breathing and the distant screams of pack members fleeing.

Then I heard footsteps again. Lighter this time. Careful.

Hope flared in my chest. "Help—"

Arielle's face appeared through the smoke.

She looked down at me, and there was nothing in her expression but cold calculation. She crouched beside me, close enough that I could smell her expensive perfume mixing with the acrid smoke.

"You know," she said conversationally, like we were discussing the weather, "I could smell it on you. In Sebastian's study. That mate bond." Her lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "It clings to you like cheap perfume."

I tried to speak, but only managed a wheeze.

"There can only be one Luna," she continued, standing. Her heel crunched on broken glass as she moved past me, toward something I couldn't see. "And it's going to be me."

Metal scraped against concrete. The smell hit me a second later—sharp, chemical. Gas.

She'd severed the line.

"No—" I choked out. "Please—"

But she was already walking away, her silhouette disappearing into the smoke. The gas hissed louder, filling the hallway with its poisonous promise.

I was going to die here. Alone. Crushed and bleeding, with Sebastian's child still inside me.

The mate bond I'd felt earlier—that beautiful, terrible recognition—now felt like a noose around my neck, pulling tighter with every breath.

I closed my eyes.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard more footsteps. Running. Shouting. But they were too far away, and I was so tired.

The last thing I thought before the darkness took me was that I hoped, somehow, my baby wouldn't feel any pain.

I woke up screaming.

Not the first time. Wouldn't be the last.

Hands pressed against my shoulders—firm but gentle. "Wren. You're safe. You're in the Capital."

Rhett's voice cut through the nightmare, anchoring me back to reality. I blinked hard, forcing my eyes to focus on the sterile white ceiling of the medical wing instead of the collapsing hallway that still haunted my sleep.

Three years. Three years since that night, and my body still remembered the weight of the beam crushing my spine, the smell of gas, the sound of Sebastian's footsteps walking away.

"Your vitals spiked," Rhett said quietly, releasing my shoulders once I'd stopped thrashing. "Same nightmare?"

I didn't answer. Didn't need to.

He moved to the window, giving me space to collect myself. That was Rhett—always knowing exactly how much distance I needed. The High Healer who'd spent three years putting me back together, piece by broken piece.

"Get dressed," he said, his back still turned. "Your father wants to see you."

Twenty minutes later, I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my quarters, barely recognizing the woman staring back.

The scars were gone. Rhett's healing magic had erased every physical mark Sebastian and Arielle had left on my body. My face was the same, but sharper somehow. Harder. My dark hair fell in sleek waves instead of the tangled mess it used to be. The tailored black suit I wore cost more than a year's wages in the Omega quarters.

I looked like I belonged in the Lycan Capital. Like I'd been born to wear power instead of scrub floors.

The Omega was dead. Good riddance.

A knock at the door. Rhett entered without waiting for permission, carrying a manila folder that looked too thin to contain anything important.

It contained everything.

"Medical clearance," he said, handing me a signed form. "You're officially fit for active duty." His amber eyes searched my face. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I've been ready for three years."

"That's not what I asked."

I took the folder from him, our fingers brushing. Even that small contact sent warmth through me—not the burning intensity of a mate bond, but something steadier. Safer. Rhett had never pushed, never demanded. He'd just been there, patient as stone, waiting for me to heal enough to let someone in again.

I wasn't there yet. Might never be.

I opened the folder. The Silverclaw Pack's financial records stared back at me, page after page of discrepancies and suspicious transactions. But it was the summary on top that made my pulse quicken.

*Pack stability: Critical. Birth rate: Zero in thirty-six months. Warrior strength: Declining. Alpha Sebastian Stone's mate bond status: Severed. Recommendation: Full Council investigation.*

The pack was dying. Without a true Luna, without the mate bond that should have anchored Sebastian's power, the Silverclaw Pack was collapsing from the inside out.

And the Council had appointed me—Wren Russell, daughter of Judge Russell, formerly known as the wolfless Omega—as Special Prosecutor.

"When do I leave?" I asked.

Rhett's jaw tightened. "Tomorrow morning. I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to—"

"I'm coming." His tone left no room for argument. "As your assigned Healer and protective detail."

I should have protested. Should have insisted I could handle this alone. But the truth was, I didn't want to face Sebastian without someone at my back. Someone who wouldn't abandon me when things got hard.

Someone who'd already proven he'd pull me from the rubble instead of walking away.

"Fine," I said. "But I'm driving."

The convoy of black SUVs rolled through the Silverclaw territory gates at exactly nine a.m.

I sat in the back of the lead vehicle, watching familiar streets pass by through tinted windows. The pack house loomed ahead, rebuilt after the attack but somehow smaller than I remembered. Less impressive. Just a building, not the palace I'd once thought it was.

The SUVs stopped in perfect formation. Rhett exited first, scanning the area with a Beta's tactical precision before opening my door.

I stepped out into the morning sun.

The effect was immediate. Pack members who'd been going about their business froze. Heads turned. Conversations died mid-sentence.

I let my aura unfurl—just a fraction of it, just enough to remind them what real power felt like. The air around me shimmered with suppressed energy, the kind that came from Lycan royalty, from bloodlines that predated their little territorial pack by centuries.

An older wolf I recognized—he used to laugh when I slipped in the kitchen—dropped his gaze immediately, his shoulders hunching in instinctive submission.

Good.

I didn't acknowledge any of them. Just walked straight toward the pack house entrance, my heels clicking against the pavement with the rhythm of a countdown.

Rhett fell into step beside me, his presence a solid wall of protection at my back.

The guards at the door moved to block our path, then saw the Council insignia on my jacket and practically tripped over themselves getting out of the way.

The Alpha's office was on the third floor. I knew the way by heart—had walked it a hundred times in the dark, sneaking up the back stairs like a guilty secret.

Not anymore.

I took the main staircase, letting everyone see me. Letting them wonder. Letting the whispers spread like wildfire: *The dead Omega isn't dead. And she's coming for the Alpha.*

Outside Sebastian's office, I paused. My hand hovered over the door handle.

Three years ago, I'd stood in this same spot, pregnant and desperate, believing love could save me.

Now I stood here with the full weight of the Lycan Council behind me, carrying nothing but cold purpose.

I pushed open the door without knocking.

Sebastian sat behind his desk, head bent over paperwork. He looked up, irritation flashing across his face at the interruption.

Then he saw me.

The color drained from his face. Papers slipped from his fingers, scattering across the desk. He stood so fast his chair crashed backward.

"Hello, Sebastian," I said, my voice steady as steel. "We need to talk about your pack's future."

Or lack thereof.