Luna Rejects Alpha's Lies

The sterile scent of wolfsbane and healing herbs filled my nostrils as I cradled Eliza's trembling body against my chest. Her small frame convulsed in my arms, her breathing shallow and ragged as her weak wolf struggled desperately to surface. This was the ninety-ninth time. I'd counted every single visit to Dr. Helena Morrison's clinic, each one carving another piece from my heart.

"Luna, I need you to hold her steady," Dr. Morrison's voice cut through my panic, her experienced hands moving swiftly to prepare an emergency injection. "Her wolf is fighting too hard against her human form."

I pressed my lips to Eliza's damp forehead, whispering soft reassurances while my Luna aura pulsed outward in protective waves. The golden energy wrapped around my daughter like a cocoon, and I felt her wolf respond, gradually settling under the influence of my power. Her convulsions slowed, then stopped entirely.

"Mama," Eliza's voice was barely a whisper, her green eyes—so much like Evan's—fluttering open. "Did I... did I shift this time?"

The hope in her voice shattered something inside me. "Not yet, sweetheart. But your wolf is getting stronger. I can feel her."

It wasn't entirely a lie. I could sense the presence of Eliza's wolf, a fragile silver thread of consciousness that flickered like a candle in the wind. But she was there, fighting to emerge despite her weakened state.

Dr. Morrison finished administering the stabilizing medication and stepped back, her weathered face creased with concern. "The episodes are becoming more frequent, Luna. This is the third one this week."

I nodded, unable to trust my voice. Where was Evan? Our daughter was fighting for her life, and he was... where exactly? A bitter taste filled my mouth as I realized I didn't even know.

"Will you stay with her while I fetch some additional herbs?" Dr. Morrison asked, already moving toward her supply cabinet.

Alone with Eliza, I smoothed her dark hair back from her pale face. She looked so small on the examination table, so fragile. The pack whispered about her condition—I heard them sometimes, when they thought I wasn't listening. *The Alpha's weak heir. A burden on the bloodline.*

"Mama, why doesn't Daddy come anymore?" Eliza's question hit me like a physical blow.

I forced a smile, even as my heart cracked further. "He's very busy with pack duties, sweetheart. Being an Alpha means—"

"He doesn't want me to be Alpha, does he?" Her voice was matter-of-fact, too knowing for a five-year-old. "Because I'm broken."

"You are not broken," I said fiercely, my Luna aura flaring with protective fury. "You are perfect exactly as you are, Eliza Stone. Don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

But even as I spoke the words, doubt gnawed at me. Was I failing her? Was my love enough to protect her from the harsh realities of pack politics?

Hours later, after Dr. Morrison had declared Eliza stable enough to return home, I carried my sleeping daughter through the pack house corridors. The familiar scents of our territory should have been comforting, but something felt... wrong. My wolf stirred uneasily, her senses picking up an unfamiliar feminine scent threading through the air.

I paused outside Evan's office, Eliza's weight warm in my arms. The scent was stronger here—floral and cloying, with an underlying musk that made my wolf's hackles rise. It was the scent of arousal, of intimacy, of another she-wolf.

My mate bond, already strained from months of Evan's emotional distance, suddenly pulled taut with painful clarity. Through our connection, I felt his presence just beyond the heavy oak door. But he wasn't alone.

With trembling fingers, I reached for the door handle. Some part of me screamed to walk away, to pretend I hadn't noticed anything. But I was Luna of this pack. I had every right to enter my mate's office.

The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges.

What I saw inside would haunt me forever.

Evan stood behind his desk, his strong hands tangled in the auburn hair of Miley Castillo. Her back was pressed against his chest, her head tilted to give him access to her neck. His lips moved against her skin in a way that was achingly familiar—the same way he used to kiss me.

Miley's eyes met mine over Evan's shoulder, and for just a moment, I saw triumph flash in their depths before she schooled her expression into one of shock.

"Clare," Evan's voice was steady, unashamed. He didn't even have the decency to look guilty as he slowly released Miley and turned to face me. "How is Eliza?"

The casual way he asked about our daughter—as if he hadn't missed her ninety-ninth medical emergency—sent rage flooding through my veins. My mate bond screamed in agony, the sacred connection that had once been my greatest joy now a source of unbearable pain.

"She almost died today," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears. "And you... you were here. With her."

Evan's jaw tightened. "Miley understands the pressures of leadership, Clare. She knows what it means to put the pack first."

The words hit me like silver bullets, each one designed to wound. I staggered backward, Eliza stirring in my arms as my distress leaked through my carefully controlled aura.

Our mate bond, already fractured by months of neglect and indifference, began to splinter completely. The pain was excruciating—a soul-deep agony that threatened to bring me to my knees.

But I remained standing. For Eliza. For myself.

For what little dignity I had left.