Elena POV

The banquet was a suffocating blur of noise and nausea. I left early, claiming exhaustion, and not a single soul tried to stop me. Not even my husband.

I returned to our bedroom-no, my bedroom. Jackson hadn't slept here in weeks, claiming he was buried under "Alpha duties" in his study.

The room still carried his ghost-scents of fresh pine and rain. But now, that scent felt like a cruel lie.

I moved with a sudden, frantic energy, unable to draw a clean breath within these walls. I needed to purge him.

I tore the clothes he kept in the wardrobe from their hangers. His crisp shirts, his ceremonial ties, the worn leather jacket he wore when we went riding. I hurled them into a heap in the corner.

Then, I turned to the mantelpiece. There sat a silver photo frame and a small velvet box containing a silver pendant. It was engraved with our initials: J & E.

Silver is poison to our kind. It burns our skin upon contact, yet we can handle sterling jewelry if we don't hold it too long. It is meant to symbolize endurance-pain tolerated for the sake of love.

I picked up the pendant. It felt cold, biting into my palm.

I walked to the fireplace, where the embers were still glowing like dying eyes. Without hesitation, I threw the pendant into the fire.

I watched the metal darken and twist in the heat. It didn't melt completely; instead, it warped, the initials distorting until they looked like knotted scars.

"What are you doing, Elena?"

I spun around. Jackson stood in the doorway.

He looked tired, his tie loosened. But what hit me first wasn't his disheveled appearance. It was the smell.

Beneath his natural scent of pine, there was a cloying, suffocating miasma. Sickly sweet vanilla and synthetic roses.

Candida's perfume.

It was so potent it coated my tongue like grease. My stomach lurched violently.

"Cleaning," I said, my voice raspy.

He stepped into the room, his gaze flicking dismissively to the pile of clothes. "You're being dramatic. I've been busy."

"Busy," I repeated, the word tasting like ash. "Is that what we call it now?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he walked over to the bedside table and placed a sleek, expensive-looking box on the surface.

"I brought you these," he said, his tone shifting to a practiced, hollow concern. "Top-tier supplements. Imported. They're supposed to help with... your condition."

He wouldn't look at me. He studied the wall, the floor-anywhere but my eyes.

"My condition," I said bitterly. "You mean the damage I took saving your life?"

His jaw tightened. "Take them. I need you healthy. A sick Luna makes the pack look weak."

He reached out to adjust the box, and the lamplight caught his hand.

On his pinky finger, he wore his Alpha ring, a heavy onyx band. But right next to it, scratched crudely into the gold setting, was a tiny symbol. A crescent moon crossed by a dagger.

The crest of Candida's former pack.

He saw my gaze lock onto it. He snatched his hand back, shoving it deep into his pocket.

"Take the pills, Elena. That's an Alpha command."

The air in the room instantly grew heavy, dense with power. An Alpha command isn't just an order; it is a physical force, a crushing gravity. It pressed down on my shoulders, forcing my knees to buckle slightly. He was using his Voice against me. His mate.

Before I could respond, a howl cut through the night air outside.

"Rogue sighting at the border!" a warrior shouted from the hallway.

Jackson looked visibly relieved. "I have to go."

He turned and strode out, never looking back. He didn't kiss me goodbye. He didn't tell me to stay safe. He just ran-away from me, away from his guilt.

I stared at the empty doorway, the silence ringing in my ears.

The nausea returned, violent and sudden. I rushed to the ensuite bathroom and emptied my stomach until there was nothing left but bile.

I sat on the cold tile floor, trembling. This wasn't just stress. I knew the rhythm of my own body.

I crawled back into the bedroom and reached for the box of supplements he had left. Maybe he was right. Maybe I just needed vitamins to stabilize myself.

I opened the box. Inside were rows of glass vials. But tucked underneath the velvet lining was a folded piece of paper. It looked like a receipt or a prescription.

I unfolded it.

It was a medical report from the Pack Hospital. But it wasn't for the supplements.

Patient: Elena.

Status: Hormone levels elevated.

Diagnosis: Pregnancy, approx. 6 weeks.

The world stopped spinning. The room seemed to tilt on its axis.

I stared at the paper, my fingers shaking so hard the text blurred. Pregnant.

Three years. The healers said my womb was shredded by the silver poison. They said I was barren.

But here it was. A miracle.

I touched my flat stomach. A baby. Jackson's baby. Our heir.

A spark of hope ignited in my chest, fragile and desperate. If I told him... if he knew... surely this would change everything? He wanted an heir more than anything. This proved I wasn't useless.

But then, the smell of vanilla and roses drifted from the spot where Jackson had stood, poisoning the hope before it could breathe.

He had brought me this box. He must have seen the report. Or maybe he hadn't?

No. The report was hidden under the lining.

I looked at the vials again. I uncorked one and sniffed.

It didn't smell like vitamins. It smelled metallic. Sharp. Acrid.

Like crushed Wolfsbane.

Horror washed over me, cold and absolute, freezing the blood in my veins.

He didn't bring me these to heal me. He didn't know about the pregnancy report hidden at the bottom-the Healer must have stuffed it there for him to see, and in his arrogance, he just grabbed the box without checking.

But the vials...

He wasn't trying to help me recover. He was ensuring I never did.

I stood up, walked to the fireplace, and threw the box into the flames. I watched the glass shatter and the liquid hiss like a nest of vipers as it hit the heat.

I tucked the medical report into my bra, pressing it against my beating heart.

He couldn't know. Not yet. Not until I knew if he wanted a child... or if he just wanted me dead.

Elena POV

The weight of the life growing inside me pressed against my ribs, heavier than the grief that had become my constant shadow.

I spent the morning barricaded in my room, my hand protective over my flat stomach, shielding the tiny, flickering spark of life from the hostility that permeated the very stones of the Pack House.

I needed air. I needed to breathe. The walls were closing in on me.

I slipped out the back servants' entrance and ghosted my way to the royal gardens. It was a maze of high hedges and blooming roses, a place where Jackson and I used to play hide-and-seek when we were children, back when his laughter was the only sound I wanted to hear.

But today, the air was tainted. I heard voices near the fountain.

My feet rooted to the spot. I knew that giggle. It was high-pitched, grating, and dripping with artificial sweetness. Candida.

And then, the low rumble of a baritone that used to whisper love poems in my ear. Jackson.

I stepped behind a thick wall of ivy, my heart battering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"She looks like a walking corpse, Jackson," Candida whined, her voice scraping against my nerves. "It's depressing to look at her. And the Pack is talking. They want a real Luna. Someone strong. Someone who can give you a son."

I held my breath. Defend me, I begged silently to the universe. Tell her I saved your life.

"I know," Jackson said. His voice wasn't angry at her. It sounded... tired. Impatient. "She's useless, Candida. A barren womb and a broken wolf. What good is she to me now?"

The words were like jagged glass ripping through my chest. Useless.

"So, when?" Candida pressed, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "When can I stop hiding? I want to be marked, Jackson. I want to be yours officially."

There was a pause, followed by the sound of rustling fabric and a soft moan. I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears leaking out to burn my cheeks.

"Soon," Jackson murmured, the word a caress. "The Elders are stubborn about the 'Fated Mate' tradition. But accidents happen. Wolves get sick. Especially the weak ones."

My blood ran cold as ice.

"And once she's... gone?" Candida asked.

"Then you take her place. You get the title, the jewels, the access to the Pack treasury. Everything."

He wasn't just planning to leave me. He was planning to erase me. He intended to strip my life, my home, and my mother's legacy to adorn this intruder.

"I love you, Alpha," Candida cooed.

"You're my true Luna," Jackson replied.

I didn't stay to hear more. I couldn't.

I moved backward, step by agonizingly silent step, until I was clear of the hedges. Then I ran.

I ran despite the searing pain in my lungs, despite the weakness in my legs. I ran back to my room and threw the bolt on the door.

My hands were shaking violently as I went to my desk. I opened a hidden drawer and pulled out a document I had drafted months ago, in a moment of dark depression I thought I had overcome.

The Luna Separation Agreement.

It was a formal Pack document outlining the separation of assets and titles. But at the bottom, there was a clause rarely used in our world.

The Rejection Clause.

I grabbed a pen. My vision blurred with tears, but my hand was steady as I signed my name at the bottom.

Ding.

My phone buzzed. A Mind-Link notification forced its way into my head, an intrusive spike of pain.

Elena, where are you? You need to organize the seating charts for the Council meeting tomorrow. Stop being lazy.

It was Jackson. His mental voice was cold, commanding. He was talking to me about seating charts while plotting my death.

The audacity made me want to scream. It made me want to vomit.

But mostly, it made me angry.

I'm doing it now, I replied, my mental voice flat, hiding the tremor of my soul.

Good. And take those supplements. You look terrible.

I stared at the fireplace where the poisoned vials had burned to ash.

Okay, I lied.

Then, I did something forbidden. I visualized a brick wall in my mind. I built it brick by brick, stacking the mental mortar, sealing off the connection to him.

Block.

The link severed with a audible snap. The silence in my head was profound. It was lonely, yes, but it was safe.

I grabbed a duffel bag from the closet. I didn't pack clothes. I packed cash. I packed my mother's locket. I packed the small stash of emergency herbs I kept.

I moved to the window. Below, in the courtyard, I saw Candida walking with Leo, Jackson's Beta. Leo had always looked at me with disdain.

"She's clueless," Candida was laughing, loud enough for the wind to carry her voice up to my prison. "She thinks he's working late. The stupid bitch actually believes in 'Fated Mates' saving her."

Leo chuckled. "Just keep him happy, Candida. Once you're Luna, don't forget who helped you get there."

"Don't worry," Candida smirked. "We'll strip this place dry."

A conspiracy. It wasn't just an affair. It was a coup.

I touched my stomach.

"I won't let them hurt you," I whispered to the tiny life inside me. "I won't let you be born into a Pack that wants us dead."

I couldn't leave tonight; the guards were too thick. I had to wait for the "New Luna Welcome Party" tomorrow night. Everyone would be drunk. Everyone would be distracted.

I would leave in the chaos.

But first, I had to survive the humiliation they had planned for me.

Elena POV

The banquet hall was a blinding assault of gold lights and crystal glasses.

Officially, it was the "Welcome Party" for Candida-to welcome her as a guest. But the subtext hung heavy in the air, thicker than the scent of roasted meat. Everyone knew what this really was.

It was her coronation in everything but name.

I sat at the far end of the head table, drowning in the shadows. My plate was empty. No one had bothered to serve me.

Jackson sat in the center, with Candida on his right-the seat sacred to the Luna. He was holding her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles in plain view of the entire Pack.

"Friends, family!" Jackson stood up, raising a glass of champagne. The room went silent. "Tonight, we celebrate new beginnings. Candida has brought a fresh energy to the Bloodmoon Pack. Her vitality is... inspiring."

Cheers erupted. Warriors banged their goblets on the tables, a rhythmic, tribal sound of approval.

"To Candida!" they roared.

I shrank into my chair, feeling the weight of three hundred pairs of eyes sliding over me. Some held pity; most held nothing but sharp, glinting mockery.

Jackson turned to Candida. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

My breath hitched, stuttering in my chest. I knew that box.

He opened it, revealing a brooch made of sapphires and diamonds. The Pack Crest.

"This belonged to my grandmother," Jackson said, his voice thick with fake emotion. "She wanted the woman who holds the heart of the Pack to wear it."

He pinned it onto Candida's red dress.

That brooch was mine. It was in my jewelry box this morning. He had stolen it.

I stood up. My legs were shaking, but rage surged through me, lending me a brittle kind of strength.

"That is not yours to give," I said. My voice was quiet, but in the sudden, suffocating silence of the hall, it carried like a gunshot.

Jackson froze. He looked at me slowly, his eyes filled with simmering annoyance. "Sit down, Elena. Don't make a scene."

"You stole that from me," I said, stepping forward. "Just like you're stealing my dignity."

"You have no dignity left!" Candida snapped, her mask slipping to reveal the predator beneath. "Look at you. You're a ghost."

Suddenly, a small figure darted through the crowd. It was Joey, Candida's five-year-old son. He ran up to the dais, laughing.

"Mommy! Mommy!" he squealed, tugging on Candida's dress.

"Not now, Joey," Candida hissed, trying to push him away.

"But Mommy, you promised!" Joey shouted, his voice innocent and piercingly loud. "You said... you said after the sick lady is gone... and you make the baby in your tummy go bye-bye... we can get a puppy!"

He jumped excitedly. "And then you and Uncle Jackson will make a real baby!"

The silence that fell over the hall was instant and absolute.

Every wolf froze.

Make the baby in your tummy go bye-bye?

Candida was pregnant? And she was planning to abort it to secure her position with Jackson?

And "get rid of the sick lady." A child doesn't invent details like that.

Jackson looked down at Joey, then at Candida. For a second, the Alpha mask cracked, revealing pure shock.

"Joey, hush!" Candida shrieked, her face turning pale.

"Is it true?" I asked, my voice trembling. "You're pregnant?"

Candida glared at me, her eyes venomous. "So what if I am? It's none of your business."

"It's Jackson's business," I said, looking at my husband. "Did you know?"

Jackson didn't look at me. He looked at the crowd. He saw the confusion, the judgment, the murmurs rippling through his warriors. He needed to regain control.

He made a choice.

He stepped in front of Candida, shielding her from the crowd's gaze. He looked at me with pure hatred, blaming me for the truth that had just been exposed.

"Enough!" Jackson roared, using his Alpha voice. The power of it vibrated in the floorboards. "Take the boy away. Elena, get to your room. You are confusing the child and ruining the night."

"I'm ruining it?" I laughed, a hysterical, broken sound that scraped my throat. "She just admitted to planning murder!"

"She is the future of this Pack!" Jackson shouted. "And you... you are the past."

He walked up to me. He loomed over me, his shadow swallowing me whole.

"Give me the Scepter," he demanded.

The Luna's Scepter was a small ceremonial wand I carried at formal events. It was the last symbol of my authority.

"No," I whispered.

"Give it to me!"

He grabbed my wrist. His grip was bruising. He wrenched the Scepter from my hand.

The pain was sharp, but the humiliation was worse. It was a public stripping of my rank.

I saw Candida smirking behind him. She had won.

Something inside me snapped. A tether, pulled too tight for too long, finally broke.

I grabbed a wine glass from the table. Red wine, dark as blood.

I didn't think. I just threw it.

The glass shattered against Candida's face. Wine splashed over her expensive dress, and a shard cut her cheek.

She screamed.

Jackson turned, saw the blood on his mistress, and roared.

He spun back to me. His hand raised.

Crack.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the hall.

I hit the floor hard. My vision went white. I tasted copper in my mouth.

My husband, my Fated Mate, had struck me.

The bond between us screamed in agony. It felt like my soul was being torn in half, the mystic connection recoiling from the violence.

"Get her out of here," Jackson spat, looking down at me with disgust. "Throw her in the dungeon if you have to. I'm done with her."

He turned back to Candida, scooping her up in his arms, cooing softly to her.

I lay on the cold stone floor, watching them leave. The crowd parted for them. No one helped me. No one looked at me.

I closed my eyes.

The pain in my womb was sharp. My baby.

I have to die, I thought as the darkness took me.

But it wasn't a surrender. It was a strategy.

If Elena lives, the baby dies. So Elena must die.