Ava POV

The morning sickness was not just violent; it was a purge.

It felt like my insides were trying to turn themselves inside out, wringing me dry. I gripped the porcelain of the toilet bowl, my knuckles white, retching until there was nothing left but acidic bile and the metallic taste of misery.

"Ava, are you done?"

Ethan stood in the doorway of the bathroom. He was dressed in a pristine grey suit, every line sharp and unyielding. He checked his watch, a gesture of practiced indifference.

"I'm sorry," I gasped, wiping my mouth with a towel that suddenly felt too rough against my skin. "It's just... the baby is strong."

"Right," he said. He didn't offer a hand. He didn't kneel beside me. He just looked at me with a flicker of impatience, as if my vomiting were a scheduling conflict. "I have to go. The meeting with the investors from the East Coast cannot wait."

He had been "working late" for three weeks straight.

When he came home, he didn't smell like the office. Underneath his heavy, synthetic Alpha scent—a musk that felt engineered rather than earned—there was something else. Floral. Sharp. Like lilies that had been left in the sun too long, beginning to rot.

*Ethan?* I reached out through the Mind-Link later that day.

Static.

*Ethan, are you there? I feel... anxious.*

The connection clicked open, then shut. Like a door slammed in my face. *Busy, Ava. Stop worrying.*

The isolation was suffocating. The Pack members whispered when I walked by, their voices dropping to a low hum like insects.

"Look at her," I heard a female Gamma whisper in the kitchen. "Walking around like she owns the place. Doesn't she know?"

"Shh," another hissed. "The Alpha will hear you."

Know what? What didn't I know?

That evening, the front door opened, bringing a draft of cold air. Ethan wasn't alone.

"Ava," he called out. "Come meet our guest."

I walked into the living room and froze.

Standing next to Ethan was a woman who could have been my sister, if my sister were carved from ice and venom. She had the same dark hair, the same pale skin, the same curve of the jaw. But where I was soft, she was sharp. Where I was plain, she was stunning.

She wore a red dress that clung to her curves like a second skin.

"This is Olivia Hayes," Ethan said, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. "A distant cousin of yours, actually. And a new business partner."

Olivia looked me up and down. Her eyes were devoid of warmth, scanning me like livestock.

"So this is Ava," she said. Her voice was smooth, like velvet over gravel. "She looks... robust."

"It's nice to meet you," I said, extending a hand that trembled slightly.

Olivia didn't take it. She just smiled, a tight, predatory expression. "Charmed."

Dinner was torture. It was a performance I hadn't rehearsed for. Ethan laughed at Olivia's jokes, a sound I hadn't heard in months. He poured her wine. He leaned in when she spoke, creating a private world at the table that didn't include me. He looked at her with a hunger I had never seen directed at me.

"So, Olivia," I said, my voice sounding thin in the heavy air, "what kind of business do you do?"

"I specialize in acquisitions," she said, staring straight at Ethan over the rim of her glass. "I take things that have potential and make them... valuable."

I felt sick again.

Later, during a gala the Pack was hosting, I excused myself to the restroom. On my way back, I passed a shadowed alcove. Two Warriors were talking in hushed tones.

"It's brutal," one muttered, shaking his head. "Bringing the mistress into the house while the wife is pregnant."

"Olivia isn't just a mistress," the other replied, his voice dripping with cynical knowing. "She's his intended Mate. Look at them. He only took the Omega for the bloodline compatibility. He needs an heir, and Olivia can't give him one."

The world tilted on its axis.

I stumbled back, my hand clamped over my mouth to stifle a cry. *No. That's impossible.*

I ran upstairs to our bedroom, my heart hammering against my ribs. I needed to smell him. I needed to prove them wrong.

I grabbed the shirt he had worn yesterday from the hamper. I buried my face in it, inhaling deeply, searching for the lie.

There it was. The lilies.

But it was stronger this time. And mixed with it was Ethan's scent—his *real* scent, not the cologne. It was the smell of sex, musky and undeniable.

My hands shook so hard I dropped the shirt. It hit the floor like a dead thing.

I went to his study. I needed answers. I tore through the drawers, papers flying like frightened birds, until I found the file again. The medical report I had seen once and ignored.

"Project: Synthetic Bond – Experimental Application on Omega Subject."

And below that, a handwritten note in Ethan's sharp script: "Target: Artificial Pheromone Induction. Success rate: 85%."

It was a spell. A chemical witch's brew to fake a Mate bond.

I sank to the floor, the room spinning around me. The "warmth" I felt? The "comfort"? It was drugs. It was lies.

*Ava...*

My father's voice broke into my mind again. It was weak, fading like a dying ember in the wind.

*Papa?*

*Ava... run... he is not... who he says... I am... dying...*

"Papa!" I screamed out loud.

I scrambled for my phone, my fingers slipping on the screen, and dialed Ethan. He picked up on the third ring.

"What?" He sounded annoyed, distracted.

"My father is dying," I sobbed, the words tearing from my throat. "Please, Ethan. I need to go to him. Please come with me."

There was a pause. I heard a woman's laughter in the background. Low. Husky. Olivia.

"I can't, Ava," Ethan said coldly. "The merger is happening tonight. Olivia needs my help. Send a driver. I'll see you when you get back."

The line went dead.

I sat in the dark study, clutching my stomach. The moon hung outside the window, a cold, unfeeling eye watching my ruin.

He chose her. He chose business. He chose the lie.

I looked down at my belly.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to the life inside me, tears dripping onto my hands. "I'm so, so sorry."

Ava POV

The sharp sting of antiseptic clashed with the dusty scent of old paper, filling the small room of my childhood home with the odor of decay.

My father lay in the center of it all, looking less like the Alpha he once was and more like a skeleton draped in parchment. His chest barely rose, a fragile flutter against the stillness.

"Papa," I wept, wrapping my fingers around his cold, unmoving hand.

His eyelids fluttered. When they opened, the irises were milky, blind to the world around him but seeing something far beyond.

*Ava...*

His voice in my head was a whisper of wind, a fading echo.

*The scent... it was magic... dark magic...*

*I know, Papa,* I projected back, choking on the mental words. *I know now.*

*Run... before the pup comes...* His mental voice strained, fraying at the edges. *Once the heir is born... you are... useless...*

The link snapped.

It wasn't a sound; it was a physical severance, like a cord being cut deep within my chest. A long, high-pitched whine echoed in the room—not from a throat, but from the spiritual ether. It was his wolf, saying goodbye.

Then, silence.

He was gone.

The scream built in my throat, a raw, jagged thing, but I didn't have time to release it. The door burst open, shattering the moment.

"Ava!"

It was Chloe, my best friend since we were pups. She was a Beta, usually sturdy and composed, but now she looked frantic. Her face was streaked with tears, but beneath the sorrow, her eyes burned with a terrified fury.

"He's gone," I whispered, the numbness spreading from my chest to my limbs.

Chloe crossed the room in two strides and crushed me against her. "I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry."

Then, she pulled back, gripping my shoulders hard enough to bruise. "But Ava, you need to see this. You need to see it *now*."

I shook my head, trying to pull away. "Not now, Chloe... please..."

"Yes, now!" Her voice cracked, desperate. "Because he isn't at a meeting! He's lying to you, and if you don't see this, you're going to die!"

She shoved her phone into my hand. The screen was bright, intrusive in the dim room.

It was a video, shaky at first, taken through the window of a high-end restaurant downtown. But the subjects were clear.

Ethan was there. Olivia was there.

They weren't looking at spreadsheets. They weren't discussing pack borders.

Ethan was kissing her hand. He was looking at her with a softness that twisted my stomach into knots—a look of adoration I had craved for years but never received. It was the look of a man in love.

Then, the audio from Chloe's enhanced microphone kicked in, cutting through the ambient noise.

*"Just a few more months, my love,"* Ethan's voice was crisp, terrifyingly casual. *"Once the Omega drops the brat, we can send her to the Rogue territories. She won't survive a week. Then we raise the heir as ours."*

*"Are you sure the DNA will hold?"* Olivia asked, her fingers stroking his cheek possessively.

*"Positive,"* Ethan replied, leaning into her touch. *"The witch's spell ensured the child has my Alpha blood. Ava is just the incubator."*

*Incubator.*

The word didn't just echo in my skull; it ricocheted, shattering everything it touched.

Grief should have paralyzed me. I should have collapsed.

But I didn't.

Instead, a fire ignited at the base of my spine. It wasn't the warm spark of hope; it was hot, white, and furious. It seared through my veins, burning away the sadness, burning away the fear.

My vision blurred. For a second, the grey room vanished. The world sharpened into high-definition silver.

*Growl.*

The sound ripped from my throat, vibrating through my chest. It wasn't human.

"Ava?" Chloe stepped back, her eyes widening in shock. "Your eyes... they're glowing silver."

I stood up. The grief was gone, locked away in a box I would never open again. In its place stood the White Wolf. She had been sleeping, suppressed by their drugs and their lies, but the sheer magnitude of the betrayal had torn her cage apart.

"Take me back," I said.

My voice sounded strange—double-layered, harmonious and terrifying.

"To the Pack house?"

"Yes. I have something to do."

We drove back in silence. The air in the car was heavy, charged with the ozone scent of my gathering power. I didn't bother with stealth when we arrived. I walked straight to Ethan's study.

I ripped open the hidden compartment in his mahogany desk—I had seen him use it once, years ago.

There it was. The journal.

I flipped through it, my movements mechanical. It detailed everything. The "Scent Modulator." The bribes to the Pack doctor. The systematic dismantling of my life.

And then, a page marked with a red tab.

"Wolfsbane Mixture – Termination Protocol."

It was a recipe. A precise mix of Wolfsbane and Mugwort. Toxic to wolves, but in small, controlled doses... it expelled a fetus without killing the mother.

He had kept it as a contingency. In case I got pregnant with a girl. He only wanted a boy. He only wanted the heir.

I stared at the page, the ink blurring slightly.

I touched my stomach. This baby... it wasn't made of love. It was a science experiment. It was a chain forged by dark magic that would bind me to a monster, and eventually, lead to my execution.

If I had this baby, they would kill me.

If I had this baby, they would raise it to be a monster just like Ethan.

My White Wolf roared in my head, a sound of ancient judgment. *Break the chain.*

I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. My hand was steady. Cold as ice.

I wrote the divorce agreement, the pen digging deep into the paper. But ink wasn't enough. Paper couldn't sever a bond this twisted.

I needed the herbs.

I pulled out my phone and called Chloe.

"I need you to get me something," I said. "Don't ask questions."

"Anything, Ava."

"Wolfsbane," I commanded, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "Dried. And Mugwort."

There was a terrifying silence on the other end. I could hear Chloe's breath hitch.

"Ava... that will kill the baby."

"There is no baby, Chloe," I said, my voice dead, devoid of any motherly warmth. "There is only a trap."

"I'll bring it," she whispered, her voice trembling.

I hung up. I looked out the window at the full moon, hanging heavy and bright in the sky.

Tonight, the Omega dies.

Ava POV

The bathroom smelled of bitter herbs and suffocating steam.

I stirred the dark liquid in the ceramic bowl. It looked like poison. In truth, that is exactly what it was.

My hand hovered over the cup, trembling.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and fast. I wasn't crying for Ethan. I wasn't even crying for myself. I was crying for the innocence I was about to murder.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the darkness. "I can't let you be his."

I brought the cup to my lips.

And I drank.

It tasted like ash and burning rubber. I gagged, my throat seizing in protest, but I forced it down.

Ten minutes later, the pain hit.

It felt like a serrated knife being twisted inside my womb. I curled up on the cold tile floor, biting into a folded towel to stifle my screams.

Cramps. Blood. Agony.

It went on for hours. Or maybe minutes. Time lost its meaning, dissolving into a blur of red and black.

When it was over, I felt hollow. Physically and spiritually. A part of me was gone forever.

But as I lay there, shivering on the tiles, I felt something else.

The heavy, suffocating weight of the Alpha's command... it was lifting. The chain was broken.

I cleaned myself up. I cleaned the bathroom. I left no trace of the tragedy that had just occurred.

Weakly, I walked into the bedroom. It was empty. Ethan was still with Olivia.

I placed the divorce papers on his pillow. Next to them, I placed the positive pregnancy test, snapped in half.

I took a deep breath, steadying my shaking core. I needed to do this formally. The Moon Goddess needed to hear it.

I stood in the center of the room, closed my eyes, and tapped into the broken, drug-induced bond one last time.

*"I, Ava Miller, reject you, Ethan Cole, as my mate."*

I felt the snap.

It wasn't a clean break. It was like ripping a rusted fishhook out of my soul. I gasped, falling to my knees as the backlash hit me. The pain was blinding, searing my chest.

*Accepted...*

I didn't wait for his response. I knew he felt it. Wherever he was, touching Olivia, he just felt his soul tear open.

Good.

I grabbed my duffel bag. I had packed light. Cash, a raincoat, and the photo of my father.

I walked out of the bedroom. I walked down the grand staircase for the very last time.

Thunder rumbled outside. The sky opened up, rain pouring down in torrential sheets.

I stepped out the front door. The rain was freezing, but it felt like a baptism.

*Ava!*

Ethan's voice exploded in my head. It was panicked. Furious.

*AVA! WHAT DID YOU DO?*

He was trying to use the Alpha Command.

*STOP! I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!*

I paused at the gate. I turned back to the house looming in the dark.

My eyes flashed silver.

*Your command means nothing to me,* I projected back. My mental voice was strong, amplified by the power of the White Wolf.

I visualized a wall of impenetrable steel and slammed it down, severing the Mind-Link.

Silence.

Beautiful, absolute silence.

I pulled my hood up and walked into the storm. I didn't look back. The weak Omega was dead in that bathroom.

The White Wolf was hunting for freedom.