The dust of the Rogue Lands still coated my tongue, a gritty reminder of the three months I’d spent fighting back-to-back with the man walking beside me. The Silverclaw Pack territory opened up before us, a sprawling expanse of pine and fog that usually signaled safety. Today, it felt different. Heavier.

I touched the flat of my stomach, a subconscious gesture I was still getting used to. My wolf, Vex, purred in the back of my mind, sensing the tiny spark of life growing inside me. An heir. A pup created from the blood and sweat of the battlefield, forged in the heat of the fated bond I shared with Alpha Preston Graham.

"We made it," I murmured, looking up at him. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on the gathering crowd ahead. He looked like a king returning from war—powerful, handsome, and mine.

"Stay close, Natalie," Preston said, but his voice lacked its usual warmth. He didn't take my hand.

We mounted the steps of the Pack House. The entire pack had gathered, their cheers deafening. I straightened my spine, ignoring the ache in my muscles and the grime on my combat leathers. As the Lead Warrior, I stood tall. As his mate, I waited for the moment he would finally claim me. We had agreed to wait until the rogue threat was neutralized. The war was over. It was time.

But as we reached the dais, the crowd parted. A woman stepped forward. She was a vision in pristine white silk, not a speck of dirt on her. Her blonde hair was perfectly curled, and she smelled of expensive vanilla and roses—a stark contrast to my scent of copper blood and wet earth.

Isabelle Wright. The daughter of the Blood Moon Alpha.

Preston stepped away from me. The distance between us was only two feet, but it felt like a canyon opening up.

"My pack!" Preston’s Alpha voice boomed, silencing the cheers instantly. "Today marks a new era for Silverclaw. To secure our borders and double our territory, I present to you the union that will make us invincible."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Vex let out a low whine.

He reached out and took Isabelle’s hand. "I present to you my future Luna, Isabelle Wright."

The world tilted. The cheers erupted again, louder this time, shaking the wooden platform beneath my boots. Isabelle smiled, a practiced, sickly sweet thing, and leaned into him. Preston didn't look at me. He gestured vaguely in my direction.

"And let us honor Natalie Fox," he added, his tone dismissing me as if I were a piece of furniture. "Our Lead Warrior, whose service has been... adequate."

Adequate? I had taken a silver bullet for him. I carried his child. I turned on my heel, ignoring protocol, and stormed toward the Alpha’s office. I didn't wait for dismissal. If I stayed on that stage one second longer, I would shift and tear Isabelle’s throat out.

Five minutes later, the heavy mahogany door slammed open. Preston marched in, smelling of irritation and that cloying vanilla scent.

"You walked away," he snapped, locking the door. "You embarrassed me, Natalie."

"You humiliated me!" I shouted, the vibration rattling the trophies on his shelves. "Isabelle? She’s a political puppet, Preston! We are mates! Fated by the Moon Goddess!"

"The Moon Goddess doesn't sign land treaties," he said coldly, walking to his desk and pouring a drink. "The Blood Moon alliance makes us the strongest pack in the state. Isabelle is necessary."

"And what am I?" I stepped forward, my hand going to my stomach again. The secret couldn't wait. "I’m pregnant, Preston."

The glass in his hand paused halfway to his mouth. He turned slowly, his eyes dropping to my midsection. For a second, I saw the flash of his wolf—possessive, primal. But then the human calculation took over.

"An heir," he whispered. A slow smile spread across his face, but it wasn't the smile of a father. It was the smile of a man who realized he held all the cards.

"This is perfect," he said, setting the glass down. "You’ll carry the pup to term. It will be raised as the Alpha heir. Isabelle understands that her role is purely ceremonial. She knows I have... needs she cannot fulfill."

I stared at him, horror dawning on me. "What are you saying?"

He walked around the desk, closing the distance, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch, once electric, now felt like a brand. "You will remain my Lead Warrior. In public, you serve the pack. In private... you serve me. You will be my breeder, Natalie. My true mate in the shadows, where no one can threaten us."

"A mistress?" I choked out, slapping his hand away. "You want to make the mother of your child a dirty secret while that pampered princess sits on the throne?"

"It is a sacrifice for the good of the pack!" he roared, his patience snapping.

"No." I backed away, shaking my head. Vex was snarling in my mind, urging me to run. "I resign. I’m taking my pup, and I’m leaving Silverclaw. I reject this. I reject you."

I turned for the door.

"**STOP.**"

The word wasn't spoken; it was a physical blow. The Alpha Command slammed into my shoulders like a falling boulder. My knees buckled, hitting the hardwood floor with a sickening crack. I gasped for air, my body paralyzed, betraying me to obey the Alpha of my pack.

Preston walked over to where I knelt, trembling under the supernatural weight of his voice. He crouched down, tilting my chin up. His eyes were glowing a bright, toxic gold.

"You do not resign," he hissed, his voice vibrating in my bones. "And you will never leave this territory. That pup belongs to Silverclaw. You will stay, you will remain silent, and you will do exactly as I say."

A tear leaked from my eye, hot and angry, as I realized the man I loved had died in the Rogue Lands. The monster in front of me wasn't my mate. He was my jailer.

The vibration of Preston’s Alpha Command still hummed in my marrow, a dull, phantom ache that made my knees feel like water. I wasn't in the cells, but I might as well have been. The "guest room" on the second floor was small, dusty, and stripped of comforts. It was a far cry from my quarters in the Warrior’s Wing, where my weapons hung on the walls and the scent of pine oil and steel usually soothed me.

I sat on the edge of the narrow bed, my hand resting protectively over my flat stomach. Vex, my wolf, paced in the back of my mind, her claws scraping against my consciousness. She wanted blood. She wanted to shift and tear through the door, but the lingering weight of Preston’s order kept us both leashed.

The lock clicked. The door swung open, revealing a young woman holding a silver tray.

It was Elena, Isabelle’s personal Omega. She was a mouse of a girl with shifting eyes and a permanent sneer that she only wore when she thought no one important was looking. The smell of cold, greasy stew wafted from the tray.

"Dinner," she said flatly, not bothering with honorifics.

She walked toward the small table in the corner but stopped short. With a theatrical clumsiness, she tilted the tray. The bowl slid off, crashing onto the floor. Brown sludge splattered across my combat boots and the hem of my pants.

"Oops," Elena said. Her voice lacked even a shred of apology. "My hand slipped. I guess you’re used to messes, though. Living in the dirt with the rogues and all."

I stood up slowly, my jaw tightening. "Get out, Elena. Before I make you lick it up."

She didn't flinch. If anything, her smirk widened. She took a step closer, emboldened by my lack of status. "You don't give orders anymore, Natalie. You’re just a spare part now. A warrior without a war."

"I am the Lead Warrior of this pack," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

"Are you?" She laughed, a high, grating sound. "Isabelle says you’re just a breeder now. And honestly? It’s probably for the best. We all know how the Fox bloodline ends."

My blood went cold. "Careful."

"Your father, Gamma Malik... your brother, Kylan..." She tutted, shaking her head mockingly. "They weren't heroes. They were foolish meat shields. They died because they were too stupid to duck. Weak blood always spills the easiest. It’s a mercy Preston is breeding it out of you."

The tether on my temper snapped.

I didn't think. I moved with the speed that had kept Preston alive in the Rogue Lands for three years. In a blur of motion, I crossed the room. My hand clamped around Elena’s throat, and I slammed her back against the wall. Her feet lifted inches off the floor, the tray clattering loudly as it hit the ground.

"You speak their names again," I snarled, my face inches from hers, "and I will rip your tongue out."

Elena’s eyes bulged, her hands clawing uselessly at my wrist. I wasn't squeezing hard enough to kill, just enough to terrify. Vex roared in approval, urging me to tighten my grip.

"Help!" A scream tore through the hallway. "Preston! Help! She’s killing her!"

I froze. Standing in the open doorway was Isabelle. She looked pristine, horrified, and completely fake. She wasn't looking at me; she was looking down the hall.

Heavy footsteps thundered toward us. The air pressure in the room dropped instantly—the sign of an angry Alpha approaching.

Preston appeared in the doorway, his chest heaving. His eyes were dark, his aura flaring out in suffocating waves. He took in the scene: the spilled food, the terrified Omega, and his pregnant mate pinning a servant to the wall.

"Natalie!" His voice was a crack of thunder. "Release her!"

I dropped Elena. She crumpled to the floor, gasping and clutching her throat, instantly playing up the drama with loud, hacking coughs.

"She attacked her!" Isabelle rushed to Preston’s side, clutching his arm with trembling hands. "Elena just brought her dinner, Preston! I saw it! Natalie just snapped! She’s dangerous!"

"She insulted my father!" I shouted, turning to face him. I pointed a shaking finger at the cowering Omega. "She called Malik and Kylan meat shields. She mocked their sacrifice!"

Preston looked at Elena, then back at me. I saw the flicker in his eyes. He knew. He could smell the deception on Elena, the scent of fear mixed with malicious triumph. He knew I wouldn't attack without provocation.

But then he looked at Isabelle. He looked at the woman who held the key to the Blood Moon alliance.

His expression hardened into stone.

"It doesn't matter what she said," Preston stated coldly. "You are a trained killer, Natalie. She is an Omega. You do not touch a pack member. Ever."

"She spat on the memory of the men who saved the Lycan Prince!" I argued, my voice cracking with betrayal. "You owe your life to my protection, Preston. Do not stand there and lecture me on discipline!"

"Enough!" he roared, the Alpha tone slamming into me again, silencing my retort.

The hallway was filling up now. Pack elders, warriors—my former subordinates—were gathering, whispering. Preston straightened his jacket, addressing the crowd as much as me.

"You have proven you cannot control your wolf," Preston announced, his voice carrying through the corridor. "You are unstable. And you are disrespectful to the future Luna."

"Preston, don't," I whispered, realizing what was coming.

"I hereby strip you of your rank," he said, delivering the words like a physical blow. "You are no longer Lead Warrior of the Silverclaw Pack."

A gasp went through the onlookers. I felt like I had been gutted. My rank wasn't just a job; it was my identity. It was the legacy of the Fox bloodline.

"You can't," I breathed.

"I just did," Preston replied, his face devoid of the love I had seen there only yesterday. He gestured to two Delta guards. "Escort her to the Omega quarters. The guest wing is too good for someone who attacks servants."

Isabelle hid a smile behind her hand, pretending to wipe away a tear. Elena scrambled up, shooting me a vindictive glare from behind Preston’s back.

"Move," one of the guards said, grabbing my arm. It was Miller, a boy I had trained myself. He couldn't even look me in the eye.

I shook his hand off. I wouldn't let them drag me. I stood tall, channeling every ounce of dignity my father had instilled in me. I looked Preston dead in the eye, letting him see the heartbreak, and then the wall of ice that rose to cover it.

"You are making a mistake, Alpha," I said quietly.

Then, I turned and walked toward the servants' quarters, leaving the shattered remains of my life behind me.

The Omega quarters smelled of mildew and despair, a fitting scent for my new life. I sat on the thin mattress, staring at the damp wall, my hand resting on my stomach. It was the only thing keeping me sane—the tiny heartbeat I could sense with my wolf hearing.

A knock broke the silence, and before I could answer, the door creaked open.

Isabelle stood there. She held a silver goblet, steam rising from it in delicate curls.

"May I?" she asked, her voice soft, lacking the venom she’d displayed earlier. She stepped inside, the hem of her silk dress brushing against the dirty floorboards. "I brought you something. An herbal tonic. It helps with stress. My mother used to make it for me."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why would you help me?"

Isabelle sighed, placing the goblet on the rickety bedside table. She looked almost regretful. "Preston is... intense. I know this situation isn't ideal for you. But we are pack now. We should try to find peace, for the sake of the Alpha."

She pushed the goblet closer. It smelled of chamomile, honey, and something else—something earthy and bitter that was masked by the heavy scent of her vanilla perfume. My throat was parched. I hadn't had water since the demotion ceremony.

"Peace," I repeated, my voice raspy.

"For the pack," she said, offering a small, sad smile.

I didn't trust her, but I was exhausted, and my pride was too battered to fight over a cup of tea. I picked it up and downed the contents in one long gulp. It was sweet, cloyingly so, with a metallic aftertaste that lingered on my tongue.

"Rest well, Natalie," Isabelle said. Her smile didn't reach her eyes as she turned and left, locking the door behind her.

The pain didn't start immediately. It crept in like a shadow, a dull ache in my lower abdomen that I initially dismissed as hunger. But within the hour, the ache turned into a fire.

I doubled over, a gasp tearing from my throat. It felt like claws were raking through my insides, shredding soft tissue.

*Poison,* Vex snarled in my mind, her voice frantic. *Wolfsbane. Concentrated.*

Panic, cold and sharp, washed over me. I tried to stand, to reach the door, but my legs gave out. I hit the cold concrete hard. The cramping intensified, turning into a rhythmic, blinding agony.

"No," I whimpered, clutching my stomach. "No, please, not him."

I felt the wetness between my legs before I saw the blood. It soaked through my pants, warm and sticky.

*Heal it!* I screamed internally at Vex. *Fix it!*

*I can't!* Vex howled, a sound of pure anguish that echoed in my skull. *It's too much. It's burning me!*

The wolfsbane wasn't just attacking my womb; it was attacking my wolf. The connection between us, usually a sturdy iron chain, began to fray. Vex was taking the brunt of the toxicity to keep my human heart beating, absorbing the poison meant to kill me.

I lay curled in a fetal position on the dirty floor, alone in the dark, as my child slipped away from me. I screamed until my voice broke, sobbing into the concrete.

Then, Vex let out one final, whimpering cry—and vanished.

The presence in my mind, the constant companion I’d had since I was sixteen, simply blinked out. The silence that followed was deafening. It was a hollow, echoing void where my soul used to be.

Darkness took me soon after.

***

When I opened my eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights of the Healer’s wing blinded me. The smell of antiseptic replaced the mildew.

Beta Marcus was sitting in the chair next to the bed, his head in his hands. He looked up as I stirred, his face pale and drawn.

"Natalie," he breathed, standing up. "I found you... I heard the screaming, but I didn't have the key... I had to break the door..."

I stared at the ceiling. I felt light. Too light. The spark of life in my belly was gone. The presence of the wolf in my mind was gone. I was empty.

"The baby?" I asked, though I already knew.

Marcus looked away, tears shining in his eyes. He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

The Healer, an older woman named Sarah, stepped into my line of sight. "It was a violent miscarriage, Natalie. Your body rejected the fetus. We found high concentrations of wolfsbane in your blood. It nearly killed you."

"Isabelle," I croaked. "She gave me a drink."

The door swung open, slamming against the wall. Preston marched in. He looked disheveled, his hair messy, his eyes wild. For a second, just a second, I thought I saw the man I loved. I thought I saw the Alpha who would burn the world down for hurting his mate.

He stopped at the foot of the bed, gripping the railing until his knuckles turned white. He looked at the Healer, then at me.

"Is she stable?" he asked.

"Physically, yes Alpha," Sarah said quietly. "But the trauma... and the wolfsbane..."

"Wolfsbane," Preston repeated, shaking his head. He looked at me, his expression shifting from concern to frustration. "I told you, Natalie. I told you that you were under too much stress. You let your emotions get the better of you."

I stared at him, unable to comprehend his words. "Isabelle poisoned me, Preston. She came to my room."

"Stop it," he snapped, his voice sharp. "Isabelle has been with me all evening planning the ceremony. Do not blame your weak constitution on her. You worked yourself into a state, and your body couldn't handle it."

My heart, which I thought had already shattered, broke into even smaller dust. He knew. Deep down, his wolf had to know. But he was choosing not to see it.

He walked around the side of the bed and reached out to touch my hand. His skin felt foreign. Cold.

"It's a tragedy," Preston said, his voice softening into a tone that was meant to be comforting but felt like a slap. "But perhaps it's for the best. The timing was wrong. You are strong, Natalie. You heal fast."

He squeezed my hand, leaning in close, whispering as if he were promising me the world.

"Once you recover, we will try again. You're fertile. We can make another heir. A stronger one."

I looked into his eyes—those golden eyes I used to adore—and felt absolutely nothing. No love. No anger. Just a cold, hard resolve settling in the empty space where my wolf used to be.

He didn't see me as a mate. He didn't see me as a mother grieving her child. He saw a broken appliance that just needed to be rebooted.

"Get out," I whispered.

Preston frowned, straightening up. "You're emotional. I'll leave you to rest."

He turned and walked out, leaving me alone with the ghosts of my wolf and my child. He thought he still owned me. He thought he could just plant another seed in the soil he had allowed to be poisoned.

He was wrong.