The cramping started at three in the morning, sharp and familiar, like a knife twisting in my abdomen. I'd felt this pain four times before, but it never got easier. If anything, each time felt worse—more desperate, more final.

I doubled over in our shared bed, clutching the sheets as another wave of agony rolled through me. The metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils, and I knew without looking that I was losing another pup. Our pup.

"Dylan," I gasped, reaching out through our mate bond with everything I had. The connection that usually hummed between us felt strangely muted, like trying to call through thick fog. "Dylan, please. I need you."

The cramping intensified, and I bit back a scream. My wolf whimpered inside me, a sound of pure anguish that echoed my own breaking heart. This was supposed to be different. This time, I'd made it past the first trimester. This time, I'd actually started to hope.

I pressed my hand to my lower abdomen, feeling the warmth spreading between my legs. "No, no, no," I whispered, as if I could will the bleeding to stop. "Please, little one. Please stay with me."

The apartment door slammed open, and Dylan's scent—pine and earth, once so comforting—filled the room. Relief flooded through me despite the pain. He was here. My mate was here, and everything would be okay.

"Amaris?" His voice was flat, emotionless. Not the concerned rush of a mate whose bond-partner was in agony.

I turned toward him, tears streaming down my face. "Dylan, thank the Moon Goddess you're here. The baby—I think I'm losing—"

"Another failure." The words hit me like a physical blow. He stood in the doorway, still fully dressed in his Beta uniform, not even moving toward the bed. His dark eyes held no warmth, no concern—just cold irritation. "How many times is this going to happen, Amaris?"

The cramping seized me again, and I curled into myself, sobbing. "Please don't say that. Please, I need you right now. I can't do this alone again."

Dylan's jaw clenched, that familiar tell I'd learned to recognize over our five years together. He was lying about something, or hiding something. But what could he possibly be hiding now, when I was bleeding out our child?

"I can't deal with this right now," he said, checking his phone. "Marcus needs me at the pack house. Emergency Beta meeting."

"Emergency?" I struggled to sit up, my voice breaking. "What emergency could be more important than—"

"Pack business, Amaris. You wouldn't understand." He was already backing toward the door. "Call Elena if you need medical attention."

The dismissal in his tone made my wolf snarl weakly inside me. "I'm your mate," I whispered. "This is your pup too. How can you just leave?"

For a moment, something flickered across his face—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it vanished so quickly I might have imagined it. "There was never really a pup, was there?" he said quietly. "Just another one of your... episodes."

The words shattered something inside me that I didn't even know could break. I stared at him, this man I'd defied my entire pack for, this rogue I'd helped rise to Beta status through my family's connections. The man who was supposed to love me more than his own life.

"Get out," I breathed.

"What?"

"GET OUT!" The Alpha blood in my veins roared to life, and my voice carried the authority I'd inherited from my mother. Even Dylan, Beta though he was, took a step back.

He left without another word, and I was alone with my grief and the growing pool of blood beneath me.

Hours passed in a haze of pain and loss. The cramping eventually subsided, leaving behind an emptiness that felt infinite. I'd called Elena, the pack healer, who'd come and gone with gentle hands and worried eyes. Another miscarriage. Another failure, as Dylan had so coldly put it.

But something was wrong. The mate bond that should have been pulling me toward comfort, toward my other half, felt strange. Distant and... excited? Dylan's emotions were bleeding through our connection, and they weren't grief or concern. They were anticipation. Joy, even.

I pressed my hand to the marking scar on my neck, feeling the raised tissue where Dylan had claimed me five years ago. The bond was definitely there, definitely real, but something was interfering with it. Something was wrong.

My wolf stirred restlessly inside me, her instincts screaming danger. *Follow,* she urged. *Find truth.*

Against every rational thought in my head, I dragged myself from the bed. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, and Elena's healing work had stabilized me enough to move. I pulled on clothes with shaking hands, following the invisible thread that connected me to my mate.

I had to know what was more important than our dying child.

The Silver Crest pack house blazed with warm light, every window glowing against the darkness as I stumbled up the front steps. The mate bond pulled me forward like a fishing line reeling me in, Dylan's emotions still thrumming with that strange excitement that made my stomach churn.

I could hear voices inside—laughter, celebration, the clink of glasses. Through the large windows, I caught glimpses of pack members dressed in their finest clothes, as if attending some kind of ceremony. My heart hammered against my ribs as I pushed through the front door, still weak from blood loss but driven by a desperate need to understand.

The scene that greeted me stopped my world cold.

Dylan stood at the center of the main hall, wearing a formal black suit I'd never seen before. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his face glowing with happiness I hadn't seen in months. And beside him, radiant in a flowing white dress that looked suspiciously like a mating gown, stood Tiana.

My best friend. My pack sister. The woman who'd held my hand through every miscarriage, who'd sworn she understood my pain.

They were holding hands.

"What is this?" The words tore from my throat, raw and broken. Every head in the room turned toward me, and I became painfully aware of how I must look—pale, disheveled, still wearing the blood-stained clothes from my latest loss.

Dylan's face went white, then flushed red. But instead of guilt or shame, I saw something else in his expression. Annoyance. As if I were an unwelcome interruption to his perfect evening.

"Amaris," he said carefully, his voice carrying the practiced authority of his Beta position. "You shouldn't be here."

"Shouldn't be here?" I laughed, the sound sharp and hysterical. "This is our pack house, Dylan. The place we've called home for three years. And you—" I gestured wildly between him and Tiana, "—what the hell is this? What kind of ceremony requires you to abandon your mate while she's losing your pup?"

The gathered pack members exchanged uncomfortable glances, and I caught whispers rippling through the crowd. But Dylan's expression hardened, his jaw clenching in that familiar way that meant he was about to lie.

"My mate?" He stepped forward, and his scent hit me—pine and earth, but wrong somehow, tainted with Tiana's floral sweetness. "Amaris, I think you're confused. Tiana is my mate. We're celebrating our mating ceremony."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I staggered backward, my hand instinctively flying to my neck where his marking scar burned beneath my fingers. "What are you talking about? Dylan, we've been mated for five years. You marked me. We have a bond—"

"We have nothing." His voice turned cold, dismissive. "You're a delusional she-wolf who's been stalking me for months. I've tried to be gentle about it, out of respect for your... condition, but this has gone too far."

The room spun around me. Condition? Stalking? "Dylan, please. This isn't funny. Tell them the truth. Tell them about our apartment, our life together, the babies we've lost—"

"Enough!" His Alpha tone slammed into me like a wall, making my knees buckle. The authority in his voice was absolute, commanding, designed to make lesser wolves submit. "You will stop this delusion right now, Amaris. You're embarrassing yourself and disturbing our ceremony."

Pack members began laughing—quiet chuckles at first, then louder guffaws. Someone whispered, "Poor thing, she really believes it." Another voice added, "Rejected she-wolves sometimes lose their minds like this."

I pulled down the collar of my shirt with shaking hands, exposing the raised scar tissue on my neck. "Look!" I cried desperately. "Look at his mark! You can all see it, can't you? The Moon Goddess blessed our bond—"

"That's not Dylan's mark," Tiana spoke for the first time, her voice sweet and concerned. She stepped closer to Dylan, pressing against his side like she belonged there. "Honey, she's been showing that old scar to everyone, claiming different males marked her. It's so sad."

Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the woman I'd trusted with my deepest secrets. "Tiana, how can you say that? You know the truth. You've been to our apartment. You've comforted me through every miscarriage—"

"I've been trying to help a disturbed she-wolf who keeps harassing my mate," Tiana replied, dabbing at her eyes with a delicate handkerchief. "She's been threatening me for months, saying horrible things. I've been too afraid to report it."

The pack members' laughter grew louder, more cruel. I felt their judgment like claws raking across my skin, their disbelief and mockery crushing what remained of my dignity. But beneath Tiana's perfect performance, I caught something else—a flash of triumph in her eyes when she thought no one was looking.

A smirk that told me everything I needed to know.

This wasn't delusion. This was betrayal.

The laughter died abruptly as heavy footsteps echoed through the pack house. Beta Benson Powell emerged from the crowd, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure as he approached me with deliberate, predatory steps. His eyes held a gleam that made my wolf recoil in warning, but I was too broken, too bleeding, to heed her instincts.

"Well, well," Benson's voice boomed across the silent hall, each word dripping with false authority. "What do we have here? A disturbed she-wolf making wild accusations against our Beta."

I struggled to stand straighter, my legs shaking from blood loss and emotional devastation. "I'm not—this isn't about accusations. This is about the truth. Dylan is my mate, and—"

"Truth?" Benson circled me like a predator sizing up wounded prey. "The truth is that several valuable items have gone missing from our pack house recently. Silver jewelry, ceremonial pieces. And now we have an unstable she-wolf who somehow gained access to our private ceremonies."

The crowd murmured, their earlier amusement shifting to something darker. I felt their gazes like physical weight, judging, condemning. "What are you implying?" I whispered.

"I'm not implying anything." Benson's smile was cold, calculating. "I'm stating facts. As Beta of this pack, I have the authority to search suspected thieves. And you, Amaris Carr, are under suspicion of theft."

My blood ran cold. "You can't be serious. I've never stolen anything in my life."

"Empty your pockets," he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of pack law. "Remove your jacket. We'll see what you're hiding."

The pack members pressed closer, forming a tight circle around us. Their faces showed eager anticipation, as if they were about to witness some great entertainment. Dylan stood among them, his expression impassive, offering no protection, no intervention.

"Dylan," I pleaded, turning toward the man who should have been defending me. "Please, tell him this is insane. You know I would never—"

"Do as Beta Benson says," Dylan replied coldly. "If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear."

With trembling hands, I pulled off my jacket, the movement sending fresh waves of pain through my cramping abdomen. Benson snatched it from me, making a show of checking every pocket while the crowd watched. When he found nothing, his expression darkened.

"Clever," he said. "But thieves are cunning. Strip search is necessary."

"What?" Horror flooded through me. "You can't—that's not legal. That's not pack law."

"I am pack law," Benson snarled, stepping closer until his breath hit my face. "And I say you're hiding stolen goods. Turn around."

When I didn't move, paralyzed by shock and fear, he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around roughly. His hands immediately began roaming over my body, ostensibly searching for hidden items but lingering in places that made my skin crawl.

"Stop," I gasped as his fingers dug into my ribs, pressing against areas still tender from the miscarriage. "Please, I'm injured. I need medical attention—"

"Shut up," he hissed in my ear, his hands moving lower, more invasive. "Thieves don't get to make demands."

His rough handling sent spikes of agony through my already traumatized body. I felt something tear inside me, a fresh gush of warmth between my legs as new bleeding started. The cramping returned with vengeance, doubling me over as I cried out in pain.

"She's bleeding!" someone in the crowd shouted, but it wasn't concern in their voice—it was excitement.

Benson's hands didn't stop their violation. If anything, my obvious distress seemed to encourage him. "Probably hiding something internally," he announced to the crowd. "These desperate types will do anything."

I collapsed to my knees as another wave of agony tore through me, blood pooling beneath me on the pack house floor. The crowd's jeers grew louder, their laughter more vicious. Someone started a slow clap that others picked up, as if my suffering was a performance for their entertainment.

"Look at her," Tiana's voice cut through the noise, sweet and venomous. "Putting on quite a show, isn't she? Probably faking it for sympathy."

I looked up at Dylan through tears of pain and betrayal, silently begging for even a shred of the man I'd loved. But his dark eyes held nothing but cold disdain.

"Thieves and liars deserve what they get," he said flatly, his words carrying across the suddenly quiet hall. "Actions have consequences."

The pack erupted in cheers and applause, their approval of my humiliation echoing off the walls as I bled and broke on their floor.