Aurelia POV

The heavy double doors clicked shut, sealing me inside the Luna's Chambers. The air was instantly suffocating, thick with Graves's dominant scent—an intoxicating, terrifying blend of an impending storm and rich leather.

Trembling, I bypassed the center of the room and crawled onto the massive four-poster bed. I pressed my body against the absolute farthest edge, leaving a vast, empty chasm of cold silk sheets between me and where he would sleep. I curled into a tight ball, wrapping my arms protectively over my flat stomach.

The bathroom door opened. Graves stepped out, a towel slung low on his hips, water droplets tracing the hard lines of his chest. He stopped. His deep, glacial eyes locked onto the massive gap I had deliberately created.

For a fraction of a second, a raw, visceral pain flashed across his face. His Inner Wolf was stinging, deeply offended and wounded by its Fated Mate's physical rejection. But Graves was an Alpha. He instantly twisted that primal ache into a towering, silent rage. The temperature in the room plummeted.

He didn't say a single word. A low, feral growl vibrated in his chest—a sound that made my bones rattle. He turned on his heel, grabbed a pair of sweatpants, and stormed out of the room. The heavy doors slammed shut behind him with a violent crash that shook the entire estate.

I let out a shaky breath, the crushing weight of his aura finally dissipating. He was going to sleep in his study. I was safe for the night, but the fragile, frayed bond between us had just snapped a little more.

The next morning, I tried to slip out of the estate early to formally resign at the office. I didn't make it past the grand foyer.

Graves was sitting on a plush leather sofa, dressed in a bespoke charcoal suit, flipping through a stack of documents. He didn't even look up as his voice sliced through the cold marble hall.

"Change your clothes. You're coming with me."

I froze. "To where? I thought Arnold Hebert usually accompanies you to your morning meetings."

Graves finally looked at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth. He stood up, his imposing frame casting a dark shadow over me. "You wanted the honors of a Luna, didn't you?" he sneered, his voice dripping with venomous mockery. "You ran to my grandmother for them. Now you have them. Go get the files from my study."

"Graves, I never—"

"*Go,*" he commanded. The Alpha's Command washed over me, an invisible, crushing weight that forced my legs to move against my will. He truly believed I had manipulated Elder Cecelia. The miscommunication between us was a toxic, impenetrable wall, and I was too exhausted to tear it down.

An hour later, I found myself trapped in a private suite at 'The Obsidian Table', an exclusive restaurant for the supernatural elite. The dim lighting and the heavy scent of rich food, alcohol, and aggressive Alpha pheromones made my morning sickness threaten to surface.

We were meeting with Alpha Marcus Thorne of the Crimson Fang Pack. The moment Marcus walked in, my stomach churned. He reeked of stale cigars and dirty musk. His predatory eyes immediately zeroed in on me, his nostrils flaring as he realized I was completely wolfless.

Without warning, Marcus slid into the chair right next to mine. His large, clammy hand clamped down on my wrist, forcing me to stay seated as I instinctively tried to pull away.

Panic spiked in my chest. I shot a desperate, pleading look at Graves, who was sitting directly across from us.

Graves saw it. He saw Marcus touching me. But instead of intervening, Graves's jaw clenched, and he deliberately turned his head away, engaging in a mundane conversation with one of Marcus's subordinates.

My heart shattered into a million jagged pieces.

"A wolfless Luna," Marcus whispered, leaning in so close I could feel his hot, foul breath on my cheek. His grip on my wrist tightened painfully. "You must know exactly how to please an Alpha to get a seat at this table. You'd better cooperate with me, little girl, or I might just have to decline this WorldLink Group merger."

I was completely isolated. My Fated Mate, the man who was biologically wired to protect me, had intentionally thrown me into the jaws of another predator just to punish me. I pressed my free hand against my stomach, my body trembling violently as Marcus's other hand began to slide dangerously close to my thigh.

Aurelia POV

Marcus’s clammy hand slid higher up my thigh. His foul breath fanned across my neck as he leaned in, attempting to scent me—a vile, deeply possessive violation in our world.

Panic clawed at my throat. I jerked back violently, my elbow colliding with my wine glass. The crystal shattered, sending a wave of crimson liquid splashing directly onto Marcus’s expensive suit.

Marcus’s eyes flashed a feral, predatory gold. A low growl ripped from his throat as his thick fingers clamped around my arm, his claws pricking my skin.

Before I could even gasp, the air in the private suite vanished.

A suffocating, pure Lycan aura slammed into the room, dropping the temperature to freezing. Marcus froze, the blood draining from his face. Graves didn't say a single word. He moved with lethal, blinding speed. His massive hand clamped onto my waist, ripping me from Marcus’s grip and slamming me against his own chest.

The scent of an impending storm and rich leather wrapped around me, now laced with a terrifying, bloodthirsty rage.

"Touch what is mine again, and I will tear your throat out," Graves commanded. The Alpha's Command echoed off the walls, an invisible force that drove Marcus to his knees.

Marcus trembled, stammering desperate apologies, begging for the sake of their alliance. Graves’s eyes were pitch black, his Inner Wolf completely in control. His voice, cold and absolute, resonated through the Mind-Link, loud enough for every wolf in the territory to hear:

*From this day forward, the Crimson Fang Pack is an enemy of the Black Moon. Any trade, any alliance, is hereby terminated. They are prey.*

Graves stepped forward, his heavy boot coming down directly on Marcus’s hand. The sickening *crack* of shattering bones filled the room. Graves didn't even blink at the agonizing screams. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his hands, and dragged me out the door.

I was trembling uncontrollably. My Mate had saved me, but the brutal, possessive way he held me made it terrifyingly clear: I wasn't his beloved Luna. I was merely his property.

Back in the suffocating silence of the Luna's Chambers, I sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping my arms around my stomach. An older maid—one who used to serve Elder Cecelia—entered, carrying a steaming bowl of dark herbal tonic.

"The Alpha ordered this for you," she murmured.

I went to push it away, terrified of consuming anything unknown in my condition, but she leaned in close. "Luna, the Doctor added Moonpetal root. It's an old blessing from the Goddess, to strengthen the womb for a strong heir."

My breath hitched. I stared at the dark liquid, my heart pounding against my ribs. Did Graves know? Was this brutal, terrifying man actually trying to protect our unborn child? A foolish, dangerous spark of hope ignited in my chest, confusing everything I thought I knew about his cruelty.

When the maid left, I walked over to my bag. Driven by that fragile glimmer of hope, I pulled out the crumpled, rain-smudged pregnancy report from the human hospital. My fingers trembled as I stared at the faint black ink. Should I tell him? Would this baby fix our broken bond?

"What is that?"

I spun around. Graves stood in the doorway, a silent phantom. His nostrils flared, his Alpha senses instantly locking onto my racing heart and the sudden spike of panic in my scent.

I shoved the paper behind my back. "Nothing."

His jaw clenched. In two massive strides, he crossed the room. His sheer presence paralyzed me. Before I could even flinch, his large hand wrapped around my wrist, effortlessly overpowering my wolfless strength, and he snatched the paper from my grasp.

He unfolded the damp document. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as his dark eyes scanned the blurred lines. His face remained an unreadable mask of stone, but the air around him began to crackle with a dark, lethal energy.