The Blood Moon Pack territory was falling apart.

I didn't witness it firsthand, but Lyra's mind-links painted a vivid picture of the chaos unfolding in my absence. The once-proud lands that had been in the King family for generations were now overrun with rogues and rival packs testing their boundaries.

"The northern border patrol hasn't been conducted in three weeks," Lyra whispered through our connection one night as I rocked Wren to sleep. "The Silver Creek Pack has already claimed two of our hunting grounds."

I closed my eyes, trying to block the images of the territory I'd once called home. "What about the trade agreements?"

"Cancelled. All of them." Lyra's mental voice sounded exhausted. "The Alpha is... he's not well, Jo."

I didn't need to ask which Alpha she meant.

---

Maddox's office had once been a testament to his power—gleaming mahogany furniture, crystal decanters of aged whiskey, and walls lined with the heads of his ancestors' greatest conquests. Now it was a cave for a madman.

Maps covered every surface, some so old the paper had yellowed, others freshly printed with red circles marking possible locations. Phone numbers were scrawled across the walls in his increasingly erratic handwriting. Empty whiskey bottles littered the floor like dead soldiers.

"He's screaming again," Lyra's voice trembled as she showed me a glimpse through her eyes.

I watched through our connection as Maddox hurled a phone across the room, his face contorted with rage.

"Find them!" he roared, his Alpha aura flaring so violently that the private investigator on the other end of the call visibly flinched. "I don't care what it costs!"

The man—one of dozens Maddox had hired over the years—nodded quickly. "We're following several leads in Europe, sir. But without a specific—"

"Europe!" Maddox slammed his fist on the desk, splitting the wood. "She's in Europe! My wolf can feel it! Why can't you?"

His eyes were wild, bloodshot, his once-immaculate appearance now a distant memory. His wolf was driving him insane, the separation from his mate and pup tearing at his sanity like a physical wound.

"I'm increasing your budget," he snarled. "No limits. Just find them."

---

"His heart rate's dropping!" Dr. Cross shouted, her normally calm demeanor cracking as she pressed the paddles to Wren's tiny chest.

I stood frozen in the corner of the hospital room, watching helplessly as my son's body convulsed on the bed. The monitors screamed with alarms, their steady beep suddenly becoming erratic.

"Clear!" Dr. Cross called.

Wren's small body jerked as the electricity coursed through him.

"Still dropping!"

The room spun around me as nurses rushed in, their voices blending into a terrifying hum. Five years of careful management, of herbal remedies and gentle exercises, had all led to this moment.

"Mommy?" Wren's voice was barely a whisper as his eyes fluttered open briefly. "It hurts."

"It's okay, baby," I choked out, reaching for his hand. "You're going to be okay."

But he wasn't. His breathing became labored, his skin taking on a bluish tinge that terrified me to my core.

"Get the surgical team ready," Dr. Cross barked. "Now!"

As they prepared to wheel him to surgery, something strange happened. Wren's body tensed, his back arching slightly as his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Mommy," he whispered again, but this time his voice carried something else—something primal and powerful.

A wave of energy pulsed from his tiny frame, so intense it knocked me back against the wall. The monitors shrieked as every piece of electrical equipment in the room surged, then died.

The lights flickered once, twice, then plunged the hospital into momentary darkness.

"What was that?" Dr. Cross gasped as emergency lighting flickered on.

I knew. Oh goddess, I knew exactly what it was.

---

Thousands of miles away, in a darkened room filled with surveillance equipment, an alert pinged softly on a monitor.

A technician leaned forward, adjusting his headphones. "Sir? We've got something."

Maddox appeared in the doorway, his movements jerky and unpredictable. "What is it?"

"Energy signature detected in Paris, 11th Arrondissement." The technician's finger traced the blinking light on his screen. "It matches the profile you've been monitoring."

Maddox froze, his wild eyes fixed on the screen. "King Bloodline Energy Signature?"

"Yes, sir. It's faint, but—"

"It's him," Maddox whispered, his voice breaking. "It's my son."

He turned away, already moving toward the door. "Prepare the jet. Now."

---

"Alpha!" Elder Thompson's voice carried across the pack square as Maddox strode toward his waiting vehicle. "There's a rebellion brewing on the southern border!"

Maddox paused, his eyes unfocused. "Let them rebel."

"But the Deltas—they're organizing against you! If you leave now—"

"I said LET THEM REBEL!" Maddox roared, his Alpha tone sending the Elder staggering backward.

The pack members watching from the shadows exchanged fearful glances as their Alpha continued toward his car, his movements jerky with anticipation.

"Paris," he muttered to himself as he slid into the driver's seat. "I'm coming for you."

The engine roared to life as he ignored the Council Elder's pleas, his mind already across the ocean, searching for the family he'd lost through his own cruel game.

As the car sped toward the private airfield, Maddox's lips curved into the first genuine smile in five years—a smile that promised retribution and reunion all at once.

The hospital discharge papers felt heavy in my hands as I climbed the stairs to our tiny apartment. Wren's small hand clutched mine, his steps slow and careful after his recent scare. The surgery had been successful, but he was still weak, his heart condition requiring careful monitoring.

"Almost there, baby," I encouraged, trying to keep my voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing on my bones.

Five years of constant vigilance had taken their toll. My once-smooth hands were now rough and scarred from endless cleaning jobs, my body thin from skipping meals to ensure Wren had enough. But none of that mattered as long as he was safe.

When we reached our door, I froze. Something was wrong.

"Mommy?" Wren's voice was small, his instincts clearly picking up on my tension.

"It's okay," I lied, pushing him slightly behind me as I examined the door. The lock was broken, the wood splintered around the mechanism. Someone had forced their way in.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I slowly pushed the door open, scanning the small space for any sign of danger. Our apartment was tiny—just two rooms plus a bathroom—but it had been our sanctuary for years.

"Hello, Josephine."

The voice hit me like a physical blow. Deep, commanding, achingly familiar.

Maddox sat in my worn-out armchair, his powerful frame making it look like a child's toy. He looked both exactly the same and completely different—the same sharp features, the same piercing eyes, but now with wild hair and several days' worth of stubble. His clothes were expensive but rumpled, as though he'd been wearing them for days.

His Alpha aura filled the tiny room like a suffocating cloud, pressing against my skin and making my wolf stir uneasily within me.

"You're not dead." His voice was soft, almost reverent. "I knew it."

I pushed Wren further behind me, my body trembling with the effort of resisting his aura. "Get out."

He smiled then, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I've found you." He stood, his movements fluid despite his disheveled appearance. "This little game is over."

Game. The word hit me like a slap.

Maddox reached into his jacket and pulled out something small and colorful. A limited-edition action figure—the kind that cost more than I made in a week. He held it out toward Wren, who peered curiously around my legs.

"For you," he said, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard it. "I brought you something."

Wren looked up at me, confusion in his eyes. "Who is that man, Mommy?"

Maddox's expression shifted, something painful flashing across his features. "I'm your father, son."

"No!" I stepped between them, my hands shaking but my resolve firm. "Don't you dare."

Maddox's eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile remained fixed. "Josephine, be reasonable. The test is over. You passed." He gestured around our tiny apartment as if it were beneath contempt. "You don't have to live like this anymore. Pack your bags. We're going home."

"Home?" The word felt like poison on my tongue.

"To the palace," he continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "To the life you deserve as my Luna. I've waited for you for five years."

Something inside me snapped. Five years of fear, of working multiple jobs, of watching my son struggle to breathe—all while this man had been living in luxury, playing games with our lives.

"The palace?" I stepped closer to him, no longer caring about his aura or his power. "You mean the palace where you lied? Where you pretended to be dying while I carried your child?"

His expression faltered slightly. "You don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly." My voice rose, five years of suppressed rage finally breaking free. "I heard you that night, Maddox. Standing outside your office, listening to you boast about your 'masterpiece of deception' to your Beta and Gammas."

His face paled. "Josephine—"

"You were never a dying rogue," I continued, my words sharp as knives. "You were the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack all along. You had billions while I scrubbed floors to pay for Wren's medicine."

Maddox reached for me, his eyes wild. "It was the only way to know if you loved me for me—"

"Loved you?" I laughed, the sound brittle and sharp. "You manipulated me, used me, tested me like some kind of experiment. And when I didn't pass your twisted test, you let me believe you were dead."

Wren clutched my leg tighter, sensing the storm between us. But I couldn't stop now.

"You're not a king," I spat. "You're a tyrant who plays games with people's lives. And you lost."