I stood at the window of our bedroom, watching the moonlight filter through the trees. My hand rested on my stomach, feeling the slight swell that only I could notice. Inside me, our pup grew stronger each day, but something else was weakening—the bond that had once tied me to Cole.

"I can't feel him anymore," I whispered to the darkness.

Not just his physical presence, which had been absent for nights now, but his emotions. The warmth that once flowed between us like a river had dried to a trickle, then to nothing. Where once I could sense his joy, his anger, even his desire from across the territory, now there was only a cold wall of ambition.

My wolf remained silent within me. Since discovering my pregnancy, she had retreated deeper than ever before, conserving her energy to protect our pup. Without her strength, I felt hollow, vulnerable in a way I hadn't experienced since childhood.

"I need to leave," I realized suddenly. "For the pup's sake."

I moved silently to the closet, pulling out a small duffel bag from the back. My hands trembled as I carefully selected essential items—clothes, a few precious photos, the small vial of healing herbs Elena had given me. Nothing that would immediately be missed.

"Just until things settle down," I told myself, though we both knew that was a lie.

The pack house had become toxic since Sloan's arrival three weeks ago. Her influence spread like poison, changing Cole into someone I no longer recognized. The way he looked at her, the way he dismissed me—it was as if our years together meant nothing.

I tucked a small teddy bear into the bag, one I'd bought when I first suspected I was pregnant. "We'll be okay," I promised my unborn child. "I'll keep you safe."

The floorboard creaked behind me.

"What are you doing?"

I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. Cole stood in the doorway, his massive frame blocking any escape. His eyes, once warm amber, now glowed with cold fury as they fixed on the half-packed bag in my hands.

"I—" My voice caught in my throat.

"Planning to leave me?" He stepped closer, each movement predatory. "To make me look weak in front of my pack?"

"It's not like that," I whispered, backing away. "I just need some time—"

"You're MY Luna!" His voice exploded through the room, the Alpha command hitting me like a physical blow. "You don't get to decide when you come and go!"

I dropped the bag, clutching my stomach protectively as I sank to my knees. "Cole, please—"

"I FORBID YOU FROM LEAVING THE TERRITORY!" The words reverberated through my bones, sealing my fate.

He knelt beside me, gripping my chin roughly. "You belong to me, Isla. To this pack. Whatever Sloan says about strengthening our position—you will support it. Do you understand?"

Tears streamed down my face as I nodded, unable to speak through the weight of his command.

---

The pack meeting hall buzzed with tension as I took my seat beside Cole's empty chair. He'd deliberately arrived late, another small humiliation designed to undermine my position.

Sloan stood at the front, her sleek figure commanding attention as she addressed the gathered pack members. "Silver Creek has always been known for its strength," she announced, her voice carrying easily through the room. "But strength can always be improved."

I straightened in my chair, feeling a responsibility to speak up. "Our pack has maintained its territory and protected its members for generations," I said. "Perhaps we should focus on preserving our traditions rather than radical changes."

Sloan's smile didn't reach her eyes. "With all due respect to our... domestic Luna," she said, the pause dripping with contempt, "traditions that weaken us must be abandoned."

She gestured to a group of young wolves at the back of the room. "I've developed a new training regimen that will double our warriors' effectiveness in combat."

The details that followed made my blood run cold—extended periods in wolf form, forced fights between pack members, punishment runs that would last for days.

"This is excessive," I protested, looking to the elders for support. "Some of these methods border on cruel."

Cole chose that moment to enter, sliding into his seat beside me. "I've reviewed Sloan's proposals," he announced, "and I'm implementing them effective immediately."

The room fell silent as every eye turned to me, waiting for my reaction.

"Luna Isla," Sloan said sweetly, "perhaps you'd like to lead the first training session tomorrow? Show the pack your... commitment to our strength."

Cole's hand closed around mine, squeezing painfully. "My Luna will support whatever decisions I make," he said firmly. "Won't you, Isla?"

The public challenge hung in the air between us. I felt the weight of every stare, the judgment and pity mixing in equal measure.

"Yes, Alpha," I managed to whisper, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

As the meeting continued around me, I realized with growing horror that I was no longer just a Luna in name—I was becoming a prisoner in my own home.

The Annual Moon Festival arrived with a flurry of colors and excitement. Lanterns hung from tree branches, casting golden light across the pack grounds. Tables laden with food stretched across the clearing, and pack members dressed in their finest clothes. Under different circumstances, I would have loved this night—the one time when rank mattered less than celebration.

I stood at the edge of the gathering, my hand pressed against my stomach. The small bump was barely visible now, but I felt our pup's presence with every heartbeat.

"You look pale, Luna." Elena appeared at my side, her elderly eyes filled with concern. "Perhaps you should rest."

"I'm fine," I lied, though my wolf remained worryingly silent within me.

"Alpha Cole requests your presence at the main stage," a young Delta announced, his expression carefully neutral.

I made my way through the crowd, feeling dozens of eyes track my movement. Whispers followed me—about my increasing isolation, about Sloan's growing influence, about whether I was still truly Luna.

Cole stood on the raised platform, his arm around Sloan's waist. She wore a stunning red dress that hugged every curve, while I'd chosen a simple blue gown that would hide my condition.

"My pack," Cole's voice boomed across the gathering. "Tonight we celebrate not just the moon, but our strength!"

The crowd cheered, but I noticed the elders exchanging worried glances.

"To demonstrate our resilience," Sloan continued seamlessly, as if they'd rehearsed this moment, "we've arranged a special exhibition."

My blood ran cold as she turned to me, her smile sharp as a blade.

"Our Luna will demonstrate her... unique abilities."

"I can't," I whispered urgently to Cole as Sloan beckoned me forward. "You know I'm not well."

"We've discussed this," Cole hissed through clenched teeth. "This is non-negotiable."

"I'm carrying your pup," I pleaded, clutching his arm. "Please."

Something flickered in his eyes—doubt, perhaps—but Sloan was already announcing my participation to the eager crowd.

"Private matters can wait," he said coldly, pulling away from my touch. "My authority won't be questioned."

He led me to the center of the stage where a table had been set up with various items—including a small vial labeled with the skull symbol of Wolfsbane.

"Traditionally, our Luna would demonstrate her healing abilities," Sloan announced, her voice carrying across the hushed crowd. "Tonight, we'll show something even more impressive—her resilience to toxins!"

"No," I gasped, backing away. "Cole, I can't—not with the pup—"

His eyes hardened. "You will participate," he commanded, the Alpha tone hitting me like a physical blow. "Or I'll consider it a direct challenge to my authority."

The crowd watched in tense silence as Sloan uncorked the vial.

"Just a small amount on your skin," she said sweetly, holding it toward me. "To show how quickly you'll heal."

I looked to the crowd, searching for sympathetic faces—finding only Elena's horrified expression and Marcus's uncomfortable avertance.

"Don't do this," I begged Cole one last time.

He simply stared back, his expression cold and unfamiliar.

Sloan's smile widened as she dabbed the Wolfsbane on my wrist. "Watch carefully, everyone!"

Normally, my skin would seal instantly around such a small amount. But instead, I felt a burning sensation that spread rapidly up my arm.

"Something's wrong," I gasped, clutching my wrist as the pain intensified.

The crowd murmured in confusion as Sloan's smile faltered slightly.

"Why isn't she healing?" someone called out.

The burning became searing agony that shot through my veins like liquid fire. I doubled over, a scream tearing from my throat as darkness edged my vision.

"The pup!" I cried out, clutching my stomach. "Cole, the pup!"

But he stood frozen, his face a mask of shock and anger as I collapsed to my knees on the stage.

The last thing I saw before consciousness fled was Sloan's expression—not concern, but calculation.

---

I woke to sterile white walls and the antiseptic smell of the pack hospital. For one blissful moment, I thought perhaps it had all been a nightmare.

Then the hollow ache in my abdomen registered, and I knew.

"No," I whispered, my hand flying to my stomach. "No, please, no."

The door opened, and Cole strode in—not rushing to my bedside in concern, but stalking in like a thunderstorm.

"Explain yourself," he demanded, his voice cold with fury.

"I lost our pup," I choked out, tears streaming down my face.

"You mean you killed my heir," he spat. "In front of the entire pack."

I stared at him in disbelief. "How can you say that? You forced me to participate!"

"Sloan warned me this might happen," he continued as if I hadn't spoken. "She said your... condition... might be affecting your stability."

"My condition?" I echoed weakly.

"Your weakness," he clarified, his eyes flashing gold with anger. "She's been trying to help me see it for weeks."

The mate bond between us—once warm and vibrant—felt like a threadbare rope about to snap.

"You've been lying to me," he accused, pacing the small room. "Hiding your... defect."

I closed my eyes, too exhausted for his cruelty. "I loved you," I whispered.

Something shifted in his expression—a flicker of doubt, perhaps—but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Get some rest," he said finally, turning toward the door. "We'll discuss your future in the pack tomorrow."

As he left without looking back, I felt the last thread of our bond snap completely, leaving nothing but emptiness where love had once lived.

The hospital room door burst open, and Sloan strode in with purposeful steps, her black hair gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. Behind her, Cole entered with a grave expression that made my heart sink.

"I've consulted with the pack elders," Sloan announced, her voice dripping with false concern. "And I'm afraid I have difficult news."

I struggled to sit up, my body still weak from the miscarriage. "What is it?"

Sloan exchanged a look with Cole before continuing. "You're suffering from Wolf Rot."

"Wolf Rot?" I echoed, confusion washing over me. "That's not possible. I've never heard of—"

"It's extremely rare," Sloan cut in smoothly. "A spiritual disease that affects werewolves with... compromised bloodlines."

Cole's jaw tightened as he stared down at me. "Is it contagious?"

"Highly," Sloan lied, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "It's already beginning to spread through the pack house."

I shook my head in disbelief. "This is absurd. There's no such thing as Wolf Rot."

"Are you calling our Head Healer a liar?" Cole's voice was ice cold as he stepped closer. "After everything you've done?"

"I lost our pup," I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. "I'm grieving."

"And the pack needs protection," he countered. "Sloan has evidence of your... condition."

She produced a folder containing charts and graphs that meant nothing to me. "The symptoms are clear—your healing abilities failing, your wolf retreating, your inability to carry an heir to term."

Each word was a dagger to my heart. My wolf remained silent within me, still conserving energy after our loss.

"The pack cannot have a Luna who carries such a curse," Cole declared, his voice taking on the formal tone of an official decree. "I hereby strip Isla Stewart of her title and position."

The words hit me like physical blows. Five years of loyalty, of love, of hiding my true nature to protect him—all discarded in a single moment.

"You can't do this," I gasped.

"I can and I have," he replied coldly. "The ceremony will be tonight."

---

Two guards escorted me from the Alpha suite that evening, carrying the few belongings I was permitted to take. The pack gathered in the courtyard, their faces a blur of curiosity and judgment as I was marched past them.

"Where am I being taken?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"Somewhere appropriate for your new status," one guard replied, not unkindly.

They led me down narrow stairs to the basement level of the pack house—a damp, cold section reserved for servants and omegas. A small room with bare necessities awaited me.

"You'll be working in the laundry room starting tomorrow," the second guard informed me. "Six hours a day, plus kitchen duty."

I stared at the thin mattress on the floor, the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. "This is inhumane."

"With respect, Luna—former Luna—these are Alpha's orders."

As they left, locking the door behind them, I sank to my knees on the cold floor. Through the small window near the ceiling, I could hear music and laughter from the celebration above—Cole and Sloan announcing their new positions to the pack.

---

"Move faster!" The kitchen mistress shoved another pile of dirty dishes toward me. "Omega duties aren't for delicate hands."

I bit my tongue as I plunged my raw, bleeding fingers into the scalding water. Three weeks of this treatment had worn me down, but I refused to break.

From the great hall above came the sound of applause and cheers. Another week, another celebration—this time announcing Sloan's official position as Cole's "partner in leadership."

"Did you hear?" An omega whispered to another as they passed. "The Alpha and Sloan are already sharing the Alpha suite."

I kept scrubbing, ignoring the burn of tears in my eyes.

Later that day, as I carried linens to the laundry room, I overheard Marcus speaking urgently to Cole in the hallway.

"The Council has heard rumors about Isla's bloodline," he said, his voice low but clear to my enhanced hearing. "They're sending investigators next week."

"What?" Cole hissed. "How did they find out?"

"Sloan's been asking questions about rare bloodlines to other packs," Marcus replied. "Word got back to the Council."

I froze, linens clutched to my chest.

"If they discover what Isla truly is," Marcus continued, "they'll claim rights to her. The White Wolf bloodline belongs to the royal Lycan line—it's not for us to control."

"What are you suggesting?" Cole demanded.

"We need to contain this situation," Marcus replied. "Before it's too late."

Their voices faded as they moved away, but the fear their conversation instilled in me lingered. The Werewolf Council—the highest authority among our kind—was coming for me.

And based on the panic in Cole's voice, he had no intention of protecting me when they arrived.