Escaping the Alpha Who Kept Me Wolfless for Years

Pain seared through my body like liquid fire, burning away the fog that had clouded my mind for years. My eyelids fluttered as consciousness returned in waves, each one more painful than the last. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils, mixed with something else—something wrong.

"Her vitals are stabilizing," a voice murmured nearby. Dr. Thorne's familiar tone, clinical and detached as always. "The dosage was off today. Too low."

I kept my eyes closed, instinct warning me to stay still. Something was different. The usual haze that blanketed my thoughts had lifted, replaced by a sharp clarity that both terrified and exhilarated me.

"Fix it," came the cold command of my mate—my Alpha—Gael. "She needs to remain... manageable."

Manageable. The word echoed in my mind as something primal and powerful stirred within me. A presence I'd never felt before, yet somehow recognized with every fiber of my being.

*Madison.* The voice was feminine, fierce, and emanated from within me. *I'm here. I've always been here.*

My wolf. The one they'd told me I'd never have. The one they'd convinced me didn't exist.

"She's waking up," Dr. Thorne said, his voice closer now. "I'll increase the dosage immediately."

"No." Gael's voice hardened. "Wait until tonight. The pack meeting will keep her distracted until then."

Their footsteps faded, and I allowed myself to breathe again, careful to keep my chest movements shallow and even. The wolf inside me growled, clawing against the chains of whatever they'd been giving me.

*They've been poisoning us,* she snarled. *Wolfsbane. Silver nitrate. For years.*

Memories flickered at the edges of my consciousness—fragments of a life I'd lived but couldn't fully recall. A father with kind eyes. A white wolf with silver-blue eyes. Power coursing through veins that now felt hollow.

"Why is this happening now?" I whispered to my wolf, not daring to speak aloud.

*They made a mistake,* she replied, her presence strengthening with each passing moment. *The dosage was wrong. We have a window—small, but it's ours.*

I lay perfectly still, gathering my strength as the door opened again. This time, the footsteps were heavier, more purposeful. Gael and Brianna had returned.

"How much longer must we do this?" Brianna's voice dripped with impatience. "It's been years, and she's still alive."

"Patience," Gael replied, his tone cold and calculating. "The wolfsbane suppresses her wolf, but it also keeps her alive. If we simply kill her..."

"The pack would ask questions," Brianna finished. "Especially with her bloodline."

My stepsister's voice was closer now, as if she were leaning over me. I fought to keep my breathing steady despite the rage building inside me.

"I'm tired of waiting," Brianna hissed. "I'm tired of pretending she's your Luna when we both know it should be me."

"And it will be," Gael promised. "But we need her heart first."

My blood turned to ice.

"The Blood Moon is in three days," he continued. "During the height of its power, we'll take her heart and perform the ritual. Her Alpha power will transfer to me permanently."

"And then you'll mark me," Brianna said, her voice husky with desire.

"Yes," Gael growled. "Once I have her power, no one will question your position as Luna."

Their voices faded as they moved toward the door, but their words remained, burning themselves into my memory.

*They're going to kill us,* my wolf growled. *During the Blood Moon.*

*Then we need to act first,* I thought back, panic rising in my throat.

When I was certain they had gone, I opened my eyes slowly, taking in the sterile surroundings of the pack infirmary. My hands trembled as I pushed myself up against the pillows, fighting the lingering effects of the wolfsbane.

*Trace,* I thought suddenly, remembering the childhood friend who had disappeared years ago. *He had that strange ability with mind-links.*

*Yes,* my wolf agreed. *And he never completely severed the connection with us.*

I closed my eyes, focusing inward, searching for the dormant link that had been buried beneath years of chemical suppression. It was there—frayed and weak, but present.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered every ounce of strength and sent a desperate psychic scream across the ocean.

*TRACE! HELP ME!*

The effort left me gasping, tears streaming down my face as the wolfsbane fought to reclaim its hold on my system.

*He heard us,* my wolf whispered, her certainty surprising me. *I can feel it.*

As if in confirmation, a distant howl echoed through my mind—fierce, protective, and closer than I'd expected.

"I'm coming," Trace's voice resonated through our fragile connection. "Hold on, Madison. Just hold on."

Somewhere across the world, I felt him mobilize—his elite rogue unit preparing for battle. The night would bring either my salvation or my death.

"By nightfall," he promised, his mental voice hard with determination. "I'll create a diversion at your borders. Be ready."