The cabin groaned in the wind like something dying.

I pulled the threadbare blanket tighter around my shoulders, but it did nothing against the cold that seeped through the gaps in the wooden walls. Rain dripped steadily through a crack in the roof, plinking into the metal bucket I'd placed in the corner three days ago. The sound had become a metronome marking the hours of my exile.

This wasn't how I'd imagined my life when I'd defied my father and left the Silver Moon Pack. Alpha John had warned me. Begged me, actually, in that gruff way of his that passed for tenderness. "That man will break you, Nora," he'd said, his hand heavy on my shoulder. "He doesn't see you. He only sees what he's lost."

But I'd been so sure. So stupidly, blindly sure that Dariel Bradley was my destiny.

I pushed myself up from the sagging mattress, my bare feet hitting the icy floorboards. The pregnancy test sat on the makeshift nightstand—a wooden crate I'd found behind the Pack House kitchens. I'd stared at those two pink lines for twenty minutes straight, watching them darken as if they might disappear if I blinked.

They hadn't disappeared.

My hand drifted to my stomach, still flat beneath my worn nightgown. A pup. Dariel's pup. The heir to the Dark River Pack.

This changed everything. It had to.

For six months, I'd lived in this cabin like a ghost on the edge of his territory. I cleaned the Pack House floors on my hands and knees for pocket change. I waited for him to visit, sometimes going weeks without seeing him. When he did come, it was always late at night, smelling of whiskey and something darker—desperation, maybe, or regret. He'd take what he needed from my body and leave before dawn, never staying long enough for me to pretend it meant something.

But a pup. A pup was permanent. Undeniable.

He would have to claim me now. He would have to see me.

"This is it," I whispered to the empty room, to the cold and the dripping water and the howling wind. "This is when everything changes."

I moved to the cracked mirror hanging above the basin, studying my reflection in the gray morning light. My dark hair hung limp and tangled. My cheeks looked hollow, the bones too prominent. When had I started looking so... diminished?

I thought of my father's Pack House, with its heated floors and endless hot water. I thought of my old bedroom with its four-poster bed and the closet full of dresses I'd left behind. I'd been an Alpha's daughter once. I'd had status. Respect.

Now I was whatever this was.

But not for long.

I pulled open the wooden chest at the foot of my bed, pawing through the meager collection of clothes I'd managed to bring with me. Most were ruined now—stained from cleaning work or worn thin from too many washes in cold water. My fingers closed around a dress near the bottom, one I'd been saving. It was blue, the color of forget-me-nots, and it had been my mother's before she died.

I held it up to the light. The fabric was soft, well-made, from a time when I'd belonged somewhere. There was a small tear in the hem and a faded stain near the waist, but it was still the nicest thing I owned.

It would have to be enough.

I dressed quickly, my fingers clumsy with cold and anticipation. The dress hung looser than it should have—I'd lost weight living on scraps and pride. I tried to do something with my hair, but without proper products or even a decent brush, the best I could manage was a loose braid that hung over one shoulder.

In the mirror, I looked like a girl playing dress-up in her mother's clothes. A girl pretending to be someone worth noticing.

I pushed the thought away.

"You're carrying his heir," I told my reflection firmly. "You're carrying the future Alpha of this pack. That makes you important. That makes you his."

The walk to the Pack House was three miles through territory I'd once dreamed of calling home. I had no car—pack vehicles were reserved for ranked members, and I had no rank. I wasn't even officially registered as a pack member. I existed in some gray space between belonging and exile, too proud to crawl back to my father, too stubborn to admit I'd made a catastrophic mistake.

The rain started before I'd gone half a mile.

It came down in cold sheets, soaking through my mother's dress within minutes. My shoes—the only pair I had left—sank into the mud with each step, the worn soles offering no protection against the water pooling on the dirt road. By the time the Pack House came into view through the trees, I was shivering so hard my teeth chattered.

But I didn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

Because inside that grand building with its warm lights and solid walls, Dariel was waiting. He just didn't know it yet. He didn't know that everything was about to change. That I was about to give him the one thing Jessica never could.

A future. An heir. A reason to finally choose me.

I climbed the steps to the Pack House entrance, my ruined shoes squelching with each step, leaving muddy prints on the pristine white stone. Through the windows, I could see wolves moving inside—warriors, pack members, people who belonged here in ways I didn't.

Not yet.

But soon.

I raised my hand to knock, then hesitated. My reflection stared back at me from the glass door—bedraggled, desperate, pathetic. An Alpha's daughter reduced to a beggar at the door.

My hand fell to my stomach again, seeking courage in the tiny life growing there.

"For you," I whispered. "I'm doing this for you."

I knocked.

The servants' entrance was unlocked, as always.

I slipped through the narrow door at the back of the Pack House, my wet shoes silent on the stone floor. The hallway smelled like pine cleaner and something cooking in the kitchens—roasted meat, probably for tonight's pack dinner. My stomach twisted with hunger, but I pushed past it. I'd eaten yesterday. That was enough.

Dariel's office was on the second floor, down the corridor reserved for ranked wolves. I'd only been inside once, months ago, when he'd first brought me here and told me the cabin would be "temporary." That had been six months ago.

I climbed the back stairs, my hand trailing along the polished banister. Everything here was solid, expensive, permanent. Not like my cabin with its leaking roof and rotting floorboards. This was what a Luna deserved. What our pup deserved.

Voices drifted from behind the heavy oak door of Dariel's office. I recognized his laugh immediately—deep and genuine in a way it never was with me. My hand lifted to knock, then froze as I heard Marcus speak.

"So what's the deal with the Adams girl?" The Beta's voice was casual, curious. "She's been here six months. You planning to make it official?"

Silence. Then Dariel laughed again, but this time it was different. Dismissive. Cold.

"Nora?" He said my name like it was a joke. "She's just a convenient placeholder to warm my bed until I get over Jessica. I feel no bond with that weak little girl."

The world tilted.

I pressed my palm flat against the door to steady myself, my other hand instinctively covering my stomach. Protecting. Hiding.

"Harsh, man," Marcus said, but he was laughing too. "She gave up everything for you. Her pack, her family—"

"She made her choice." Dariel's voice was flat, bored. "I never promised her anything. If she wants to play house in that cabin and pretend we're something we're not, that's her problem."

"What if she's your fated mate, though? What if your wolf just hasn't—"

"My wolf knows what it wants, and it's not her." The certainty in his voice was a knife between my ribs. "Jessica is coming back next week. I can feel it. And when she does, the Adams girl can go crawl back to daddy."

I didn't remember backing away from the door. Didn't remember stumbling down the hallway or taking the stairs too fast, my shoes slipping on the polished wood. I just remember the cold air hitting my face as I burst through the servants' entrance, gasping like I'd been drowning.

Placeholder.

Convenient.

Weak little girl.

My hands shook as I pressed them against my stomach, feeling nothing but the flat plane of my belly and the dress clinging wet and cold to my skin. Inside me, a tiny life was growing. Dariel's heir. The future of his pack.

And he thought I was nothing.

The walk back to the cabin passed in a blur of rain and tears I couldn't stop. My mother's dress was ruined now, caked with mud and torn at the hem where I'd tripped over a root. I didn't care. Nothing mattered except the horrible truth echoing in my head.

He never wanted me. He never felt the bond. I was just something warm and available while he pined for someone else.

Inside the cabin, I collapsed onto the bed, my whole body shaking. Not from cold this time. From something deeper, something that felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside.

What would he do if he knew about the pup? Would he take it from me? Raise it with Jessica when she came back? Cast me out and keep his heir, leaving me with nothing?

I couldn't tell him. I couldn't risk it.

My hand pressed harder against my stomach, protective and desperate.

"I won't let him take you," I whispered into the empty cabin. "I won't let him throw you away like he's throwing me away."

The rain drummed against the roof, finding new leaks, new ways to invade my pathetic shelter. I pulled the ruined blanket over myself and curled around the secret growing inside me.

Two days later, I was gathering firewood near the tree line when I heard it—the low purr of an expensive engine.

A black limousine rolled up the Pack House drive, sleek and out of place among the pickup trucks and SUVs. I froze, my arms full of damp branches, watching as the driver opened the back door.

She stepped out like something from a magazine. Tall, blonde, perfect. Her scent hit me even from this distance—flowers, overwhelming and sweet, making my wolf whimper and retreat.

Jessica.

The Pack House doors burst open and Dariel ran out, actually ran, like a man who'd been holding his breath for months and could finally breathe again. He reached her in seconds, pulling her into his arms, his face buried in her hair.

I watched him inhale her scent. Watched his whole body relax, like he'd finally come home.

He'd never looked at me like that. Not once.

My fingers dug into the rough bark of the firewood, splinters biting into my palms. Inside me, the pup—our pup—grew in the darkness, unwanted and unknown.

And I understood, finally, what it meant to be truly alone.

Marcus showed up at my cabin door three days after Jessica's arrival.

I'd been watching the Pack House from my window, tracking Dariel's movements like some pathetic stalker. I'd seen him walking with her through the gardens. Seen them laughing on the terrace. Seen the way he touched the small of her back, guiding her like she was something precious that might break.

He'd never touched me like that.

"Nora." Marcus didn't even try to hide his discomfort. He stood on my rotting porch like he might catch poverty from breathing my air. "The Alpha has issued new territory guidelines."

I wrapped my cardigan tighter around myself, trying to hide the way my hands shook. "Guidelines?"

"Jessica Palmer is an honored guest of the pack." His voice was flat, rehearsed. "To avoid any... incidents, you're forbidden from entering the Pack House or the Alpha's floor until further notice."

The words hit like a slap. "I need to speak to Dariel about something important. It's medical—"

"The Alpha is busy." Marcus wouldn't meet my eyes. "Any concerns can be submitted in writing to my office."

"Marcus, please." My voice cracked. "I just need five minutes—"

"Those are the orders, Nora." He turned to leave, then paused. "Also, your allowance has been... redirected. Pack resources are being allocated elsewhere."

He was gone before I could respond, leaving me standing in the doorway with my hand pressed against my stomach and the world crumbling around me.

No money. No access. No way to tell him about the pup growing inside me.

I was being erased.

Two days later, I walked the three miles to the pack's general store with my last twenty dollars and a desperate plan. I needed prenatal vitamins. The pregnancy books I'd borrowed from the pack library said they were essential, especially in the first trimester.

The store was nearly empty when I arrived, thank the Moon Goddess. I found the vitamin aisle and grabbed the cheapest bottle, my fingers trembling as I read the label. Folic acid. Iron. Everything the baby needed.

Everything I couldn't give it on my own.

At the register, I handed over my pack allowance card—the one Dariel had given me months ago with a careless "buy whatever you need." The cashier swiped it once. Twice. Three times.

"I'm sorry, miss. This card's been declined."

Heat flooded my face. "That's not possible. Can you try again?"

She did. Same result. "Says the account's been closed."

Behind me, someone laughed.

I turned and felt my stomach drop. Jessica stood there in designer jeans and a cashmere sweater that probably cost more than my cabin. And beside her, wearing a cruel smile I knew too well, was Adaline.

My stepsister. Of course she'd come to watch me suffer.

"Oh my God, Nora?" Adaline's voice dripped with fake concern. "What are you doing here? I thought you were living in some fairy tale with your Alpha."

Jessica's eyes swept over me—my worn clothes, my unwashed hair, the vitamin bottle clutched in my hand. "Prenatal vitamins? How... optimistic."

I tried to speak, but my throat had closed.

"Here." Adaline pulled out a black credit card, sliding it across the counter to the cashier. "Ring up that sad little bottle for my sister. And add this." She grabbed a bottle of expensive wine from the display. "We're celebrating Jessica's return."

The cashier processed the transaction while I stood there, humiliation burning through my veins. Adaline handed me the vitamin bottle like it was charity.

"You're welcome," she said sweetly. Then, quieter, so only I could hear: "You really thought he'd choose you? You're nobody, Nora. You've always been nobody."

They left laughing, arm in arm, while I stood frozen with my cheap vitamins and cheaper pride.

I should have known it would get worse.

The storm hit that night with a violence that shook the cabin's walls. Thunder cracked like the sky was splitting open, and I curled into a ball on my bed, hands pressed over my ears.

I'd been terrified of storms since I was six, since the night my mother died in a car accident during weather just like this. Alpha John used to hold me through them, his strong arms the only thing that made me feel safe.

But Alpha John was three hundred miles away, and I'd burned that bridge when I chose Dariel.

The roof gave first—a horrible groaning sound followed by a crash as part of the ceiling caved in. Rain poured through the gap, flooding the floor, soaking everything. Lightning illuminated the cabin in stark flashes, showing me just how close I was to losing even this pathetic shelter.

I was shaking so hard I could barely think. The baby. I had to protect the baby.

I did the one thing I'd sworn I wouldn't do.

I reached for the mind-link, that invisible thread that connected me to Dariel whether he wanted it or not.

*Dariel, please. The cabin's flooding. The roof collapsed. I'm scared. Please, I just need somewhere safe until the storm passes.*

Silence. Long, horrible silence.

Then, finally, his voice in my head—distracted, annoyed.

*I'm busy, Nora. Figure it out.*

The link snapped closed.

I sat there in the dark, in the cold, in the water rising around my ankles, and felt something inside me break that I didn't think could ever be fixed.