Alessandra POV

The pain in my wrist was sharp, a grinding pressure that promised a fracture if I moved, but the fury in Caleb's eyes was worse. It was the look of a man whose ego had just been shattered by a girl he deemed beneath him.

"What the hell is going on?"

Kaia's voice sliced through the tension like a whip. She stood at the edge of our booth, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes darting from the shattered glass on the floor to Caleb's grip on my arm.

Caleb's expression shifted instantly. The snarl vanished, replaced by a mask of wounded indignation. He didn't let go of me. Instead, he yanked me closer, making me stumble.

"Your friend has lost her mind, Kaia," Caleb spat, gesturing to the sticky red mess on his face. "I came over to be polite, and she started pawing at me. When I told her I'm loyal to you, she threw a drink in my face. She's desperate."

I gagged. The lie was so vile, so effortlessly spun, that for a second, I couldn't breathe. "Liar," I rasped, trying to wrench my arm free. "Let go of me!"

"See?" Caleb sneered, tightening his grip until I cried out. "She's hysterical."

The air around Kaia changed. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. She didn't scream. She didn't cry. She stepped forward, her movements fluid and predatory, the Alpha blood in her veins waking up.

"Let her go," Kaia said. Her voice was low, vibrating with a command that made the hair on my arms stand up.

"Babe, listen—"

"I said, let go."

Kaia moved faster than a human eye could track. She seized Caleb's wrist—the one holding me—and twisted it backward with a sickening crunch.

Caleb howled, releasing me instantly as he doubled over, clutching his hand. The entire bar went silent. Every wolf in the room turned to watch the Alpha's daughter towering over her boyfriend.

"My wolf would sooner fly than believe that lie," Kaia said, her voice ringing with cold authority. She looked down at him like he was something she'd scraped off her shoe. "You think I don't know a predator when I see one? You think I haven't seen the way you look at her?"

"Kaia, please—" Caleb stammered, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Silence," she snapped. "I, Kaia Moran, sever all ties with you. Get out of my sight before I forget Pack Law forbids me from ripping your throat out on Stonecrest soil."

Caleb scrambled back, cradling his broken hand. His eyes darted around the room, finding no sympathy, only the scorn of the pack. Humiliation burned his face a deep red. He looked at Kaia, then at me, and the hatred in his gaze was toxic.

"You'll regret this," he hissed, backing away toward the exit. "Both of you."

Thirty minutes later, we were seated in the corner of a high-end human restaurant on the edge of town. No loud music, no rowdy wolves, just the clinking of silverware and soft jazz.

"I'm leaving, Kaia," I said, breaking the silence. I kept my voice barely above a whisper.

Kaia froze, her fork hovering over her pasta. "You can't be serious. A rogue pregnant female? You're walking into a death sentence."

"Staying is a death sentence for my soul," I countered, my hand instinctively covering my stomach. "Isadora is back. I smelled her on him this morning. It was... suffocating." I looked up, meeting her eyes. "He loves her, Kaia. He washed me off his skin to make room for her. I won't let my child be a bastard in the shadows, watching their father play house with his true love."

Kaia's face softened, the anger from the bar replaced by sorrow. She sighed, pushing her plate away. "If you're serious... there's Gavyn Shepherd. The Beta of the Sun River Pack. He's back in town for the summit. He always had a soft spot for you in college."

"Gavyn?" I frowned. It was a lifeline, faint but real.

"He's a good man. He might help you cross the border."

"Like you tried to help Deric?" I asked softly.

The color drained from Kaia's face. The name hung between us like a curse—Deric Frost, the mate who betrayed her, the wound that never healed.

"Don't," she whispered, looking away. "That was different."

"It's the same pain, Kaia. I have to go."

Kaia went to retrieve her car from the valet, leaving me standing near the restaurant entrance. The night air was crisp, but it did little to cool the feverish anxiety under my skin.

"Well, if it isn't the little stray."

I stiffened. Chrissy Sweeney stepped out of the shadows, a smirk plastered on her face. But she wasn't alone.

Beside her, a woman sat in a sleek wheelchair. Isadora Pacheco.

She was breathtakingly fragile, with porcelain skin and large, doe eyes that made you want to protect her. But as she looked at me, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind.

"Isadora," Chrissy cooed, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "This is Alessandra. The Alpha's... personal assistant."

Isadora tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over me, assessing, judging. "Oh? The one Demetri mentioned?"

Chrissy laughed, a sharp, cruel sound. "Yes. She's the one who's been sharing his suite. You know, taking care of his... needs... day and night while you were away fighting for your life."

The implication hung heavy in the air. Whore. Placeholder.

Isadora's expression didn't crack, but her eyes changed. The warmth vanished, replaced by a cold, hard glint of possession. She looked at me not as a person, but as a stain on her property.

"Is that so?" Isadora said softly. Her voice was like silk wrapped around a dagger. "It must have been hard work."

I opened my mouth to defend myself, to tell her I was leaving, that she could have him. But the look in her eyes stopped me. She didn't want an explanation. She wanted blood.

Alessandra POV

By the time I stepped closer to her wheelchair again, Isadora's voice drifted up—soft, casual, like she was making small talk.

"He's going to mark me soon, you know..."

Isadora's words were a physical blow, harder than any fist. Marking. The very word sent a phantom pain searing through my neck, my own wolf whimpering in the back of my mind. The bond between Demetri and me, already frayed, felt like it was being strangled by an invisible noose.

"He feels so guilty," Isadora continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though her eyes danced with malice. She touched her throat, tracing the porcelain skin where an Alpha's bite would go. "He promised that once I'm strong enough... I'll finally take my rightful place as Luna. It's what the pack wants. It's what he wants."

I couldn't breathe. The air around me turned thin and sharp, smelling of her cloying perfume and my own impending heartbreak. "He... he wouldn't," I stammered, the denial tasting like ash on my tongue.

"Wouldn't he?" Isadora smirked, tilting her head. "Why do you think he kept you a secret? You were a convenience, Alessandra. A warm body to keep his bed from getting cold while he waited for me."

She wheeled herself closer, her expression shifting suddenly to one of distress as she glanced over my shoulder. "Oh, my wheel... it's stuck. Could you?"

I hesitated. My instincts screamed at me to run, to get away from this viper, but the ingrained habit of an Omega—to serve, to help—made me step forward. I bent down toward the sleek metal of her chair. "Where is it—"

Isadora's hand shot out, clamping onto my forearm with surprising strength. She yanked me down until my ear was inches from her lips. The fragility vanished, replaced by a predator's cold focus.

"It must have been fun warming his bed," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "Thinking you could ever be more than a placeholder. You pathetic little Omega."

I froze, paralyzed by the sheer toxicity of her tone. In that split second of my shock, Isadora threw her weight backward.

"No!" she shrieked, her voice piercing the night air. "Alessandra, please don't!"

With a violent jerk, she tipped the wheelchair over. Metal crashed against the pavement, and Isadora hit the ground with a sickening thud.

"Isadora!" Chrissy screamed, pointing a shaking finger at me. "Alpha! I saw it! She pushed her!"

Before I could even process the setup, the atmosphere exploded. A wave of pure, unadulterated Alpha power slammed into me before I saw him.

"Demetri, wait—"

I didn't get to finish. A hand of steel slammed into my chest, not to hold, but to repel. Demetri didn't just push me; he unleashed his fury. I flew backward, the world spinning until my spine collided with the iron railing of the restaurant steps.

Crack.

Agony radiated from my lower back, blinding and white-hot. I crumpled to the concrete, gasping for air that wouldn't come. Through the haze of pain, I saw Demetri kneeling beside Isadora, his face a mask of terror I had never seen him wear for me.

"Issy," he choked out, gathering her into his arms. Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead, staining his white shirt.

"I didn't..." I wheezed, trying to push myself up, but a sharp, cramping pain twisted in my lower abdomen. "Demetri, I didn't touch her..."

He turned to me then. His eyes were pitch black, his wolf fully surfaced and murderous. "Silence!"

The command vibrated through my bones, forcing my mouth shut against my will. He stood, lifting Isadora as if she weighed nothing. He looked at me with such profound hatred that my soul withered.

"If anything happens to her," he snarled, his voice low and deadly, "I will destroy you."

He turned his back on me, marching toward his car. Chrissy scrambled after them, casting a triumphant sneer in my direction.

I tried to call out, but the pain in my stomach sharpened into a knife twist. A warm, wet sensation spread between my legs. Panic, cold and absolute, flooded my veins.

"No," I whispered, clutching my stomach as the world began to tilt and gray. "My baby..."

The darkness rushed in, swallowing me whole.

Demetri POV

The drive to the Pack Clinic was a blur of red rage and white fear. Isadora was sobbing softly against my chest, her small body trembling. But as I paced the sterile hallway of the private ward, the adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind a gnawing unease.

My wolf paced in the back of my mind, agitated, scratching at the walls of my skull. Mate hurt. Mate bleeding.

I shoved the thought away. Alessandra had attacked Isadora. I saw Isadora on the ground. I heard Chrissy. The evidence was right there.

I pushed open the door to the private ward. Isadora lay on the bed, a small bandage on her forehead. She looked tiny, fragile—everything Alessandra was not.

"Demetri," she breathed, reaching for my hand.

"Tell me what happened," I demanded, though my voice was gentle. "Did she threaten you?"

Isadora looked down, her lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. "Please, Demetri. Don't be angry with her. She... she was upset. I think she's jealous." She squeezed my hand, looking up with wide, tear-filled eyes. "She's just an Omega. She gets emotional. It was my fault for provoking her with my presence. I shouldn't have come."

The knot in my chest loosened. It made sense. Alessandra was weak, prone to outbursts. Isadora was an angel, defending the very woman who hurt her.

"Rest," I said, kissing her knuckles. "I'll handle it."

I turned and walked out, the doubt in my gut silenced by my anger. I didn't see the way Isadora's tears instantly dried, or the cold, victorious smile that curled her lips as the door clicked shut.