Three hours after the enforcers left me to bleed out on the thin mattress, the metal door to my room slammed open. The force was so violent the handle punched a deep dent into the drywall, sending white dust drifting to the floor.

He didn't offer a word. He marched straight to the side of my bed, grabbed the clear plastic tubing taped to my inner elbow, and yanked.

The steel needle ripped out of my vein. Dark red drops splattered across the white sheets and dotted the toe of his polished dress shoe.

"Adrian, what are you doing?" I grabbed my bleeding arm, pressing my thumb hard over the torn skin.

He threw a stack of photographs at my face. The corner of a picture sliced a thin line across my cheekbone before the stack scattered over my lap and onto the floor.

"You couldn't just let her live," he snarled. His voice vibrated with a lethal rumble, shaking the empty glass vials on the nearby counter. "The transfusion worked. She was stabilizing. And you simply couldn't stand it."

I picked up the top photograph from my lap. My fingers trembled, smearing a drop of my own fresh blood across the glossy paper.

The image was a grainy security feed. It showed the dimly lit hallway outside the intensive care unit. A woman stood near the glass partition of Celeste's room, wearing my beige cashmere trench coat. The timestamp in the corner marked the footage at just ten minutes ago.

"Her organs are failing," Adrian stepped closer, his shoulders blocking out the harsh fluorescent light above. "The venom in her system spiked again. Someone slipped past the guard rotation, entered her room, and injected a second dose of Silver Thorn into her IV line."

"And you think this person is me." I held up the photo, my voice rough from disuse.

"I don't think. I know." He pointed a rigid finger at the picture. "That is your coat. You were seen in the corridor by the night staff."

"Look at the picture, Adrian." I tapped the center of the image, holding it higher. "Really look at it."

"The woman is wearing my coat, yes," I continued, keeping my tone dead flat to mask the rising panic. "But look at her shoulders. Look at the height of the hem. This person is at least three inches taller than me. Her frame is different. The sleeves barely reach her wrists. This is a clumsy frame-up."

"Stop lying!" He struck the metal IV pole beside my bed. It crashed to the linoleum floor with a deafening clang, rolling into the wall.

"I am bleeding from a threatened miscarriage," I fired back, pointing to the dark, dried stain crusted on the examination paper beneath my legs. "I haven't had the strength to stand up for three hours. The room was locked from the outside. How could I possibly walk down the hall, bypass your elite guards, and poison her again?"

"You are the Luna of this pack." His amber eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "The guards are trained to look the other way when you issue a command. You used your authority to clear the hall and finish the job."

"Why would I do that?" I demanded. "Why would I risk my life and my child's life to hurt a woman I barely know? I have nothing to gain from her death."

"You have everything to gain." He leaned over the bed, planting both hands on the mattress and trapping me in his shadow. "You saw me sitting with her. You realized your position was threatened. You decided to eliminate my savior before she could wake up and expose whatever twisted plot you started at the banquet."

"The only setup here is the one you orchestrated." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You planned the timing perfectly. You wanted the entire pack to see her fall, to cement your dominance. But she survived the first dose, so you went back to ensure she didn't survive the night."

"Your savior," I repeated the words, testing how hollow they felt on my tongue. "Is that what she is to you?"

"She sacrificed everything for this pack," he shot back, his face inches from mine. "She took a lethal blow meant for me years ago. She finally comes home, and you give her a death sentence."

"You are cruel," he whispered, his grip tightening until my teeth ground together. "You are so terrified of losing your status that you would murder a defenseless woman in her hospital bed. You have no conscience."

The burning pain in my lower abdomen flared again, a reminder of the child he was actively ignoring. I ignored the cramp. A strange, freezing calm washed over my chest, extinguishing the last pathetic spark of hope I held for this marriage.

"If you are so certain I am the murderer," I said, my voice steady and devoid of warmth, "then arrest me."

He straightened up, his brow furrowing deep into his forehead. "What did you say?"

"You heard me." I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, planting my bare feet on the freezing floor tiles. I stood up. The room spun for a second, but I locked my knees to keep from collapsing. I faced him squarely. "Stop playing the enraged judge in a private hospital room. Call your enforcers back in. Strip me of my title. Throw me in the pack dungeon."

"Do not test me."

"I am not testing you. I am telling you to end this hypocritical trial." I met his furious gaze without blinking, refusing to back down an inch. "If I am the villain you want me to be, treat me like one. Lock me in a cell. Put me in silver chains. But stop standing here pretending you care about justice when all you want is an excuse to punish me for not being her."

"You think I won't lock you away?" he asked, his voice lowered.

"I think you are a coward," I replied. "You need me to be the villain so you don't have to face the guilt of what you're doing to your own pregnant wife. If you lock me in the dungeon, the council will demand a formal investigation. They will review the footage. They will see the height difference. You don't want an investigation, Adrian. You just want a punching bag."

Adrian took a step forward, raising his hand.

Before he could touch me, the frantic squeak of rubber soles echoed in the corridor. The sound grew louder, tearing through the tense silence of the hallway.

A young nurse skidded into the open doorway. Her blue scrubs were disheveled, and her face was drained of all color, leaving her skin a sickly gray. She gripped the metal doorframe with both hands to stop her momentum, breathing hard.

"Alpha!" she screamed, her voice cracking in absolute panic.

Adrian spun around, his murderous focus transferring from me to the terrified woman. "What is it?"

"It's Celeste," the nurse gasped, pointing a trembling finger down the hall toward the intensive care unit. "She's coding. Her heart just stopped."

"The toxins mutated, Alpha!" The nurse shrieked, her voice shattering the tense standoff in my hospital room.

She gripped the metal doorframe, her knuckles stark white against the blue paint. "Her organs are shutting down. The venom is attacking her nervous system. If we don't perform a second, high-concentration blood purification right now, she won't survive the night."

Before I could register his movement, his hand locked around my wrist like a steel vice. The bruising pressure sent a shockwave of pain up my arm.

"Adrian, stop!" I yelled, trying to yank my arm back.

He pulled me forward with brutal force. I had just shoved my feet into my discarded stilettos moments ago, and the sudden momentum sent me stumbling. I barely caught my balance before he began dragging me out into the corridor.

"Move!" he barked at the medical staff crowding the hallway.

I dug my heels into the linoleum. The points of my stilettos screeched a harsh, grating friction across the floor tiles, leaving dark scuff marks in our wake.

"Let go of me!" I thrashed against his grip, using my free hand to pry at his fingers. "You are hurting me! Someone, help me!"

Adrian ignored my protests, hauling me toward the extraction room. The overwhelming stench of industrial bleach and rubbing alcohol flooded my nose, turning my stomach and making my eyes water.

"Listen to me!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the sterile white walls. "I am already bleeding! The first draw caused a threatened miscarriage. If you take more blood now, the baby will die!"

He didn't even turn his head. His long strides ate up the distance to the extraction room.

"Are you deaf?" I sobbed, stumbling as a fresh, agonizing cramp ripped through my lower abdomen. It felt like a serrated blade twisting in my gut. "You are killing our child!"

We crossed the threshold of the blood room. He shoved me forward. I collided with the heavy leather examination chair, the impact sending a jolt of pain straight up my spine.

"Strap her down," Adrian commanded the two enforcers trailing behind us.

"Don't touch me!" I scrambled backward, putting the chair between myself and the advancing guards. I clutched my stomach, bending slightly as another wave of wet warmth slipped between my thighs, soaking into the fabric of my ruined dress.

The taller enforcer lunged, grabbing my upper arms. I kicked out, my stiletto catching him in the shin. He grunted but didn't let go, wrestling me into the leather chair. The second guard quickly secured the nylon straps over my wrists and ankles, pinning me flat.

"Get your hands off me!" I screamed, thrashing against the restraints. The leather squeaked under my struggling weight. "Adrian, tell them to stop!"

Dr. Thorne stepped into the center of the room. He positioned his body in front of the operating table, effectively blocking Adrian's path.

Sweat beaded across the older doctor's forehead, gleaming under the harsh glare of the overhead surgical lights. He held his metal clipboard against his chest like a shield.

"Alpha," Dr. Thorne started, his voice wavering slightly. "You need to understand the medical reality of what you are asking."

"The reality is Celeste is coding," Adrian snapped, stepping right up to the doctor. "Extract the blood. Use the highest concentration filters. We don't have time for a debate."

"I cannot recommend this procedure." Dr. Thorne held his ground, though his knees visibly trembled against the fabric of his slacks. "Luna's vitals are critically unstable. Her blood pressure is already plummeting from the first session. Her core temperature is dropping."

"Fix her blood pressure later," Adrian ordered, pointing a rigid finger at the empty IV bags hanging from the metal pole. "Start the line now."

"You don't understand the mutation, Alpha." The doctor swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly. "The venom has bonded with Celeste's bone marrow. To flush it, I have to draw double the volume we took earlier. If I force a second draw tonight, especially at a higher concentration, the fetus will not survive. That is a one hundred percent certainty. The trauma will terminate the pregnancy immediately."

I watched Adrian's face, praying for a flicker of hesitation. I searched his rigid jawline for any sign of the father he was supposed to be.

Nothing changed. His expression remained carved from ice.

"Furthermore," Dr. Thorne continued, wiping a drop of sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist, "the sheer volume required will drain her reserves. It will permanently destroy her physical foundation."

"Speak plainly, Doctor," Adrian growled, towering over the older man.

"She may never carry a pup again," Dr. Thorne stated, his voice dropping to a grim whisper. "Her body will be barren. Her immune system will collapse. She might even slip into a permanent coma. You are asking me to trade one life for another."

Dead silence slammed into the room.

The enforcers stopped moving. The nurses in the hallway froze in their tracks.

The only sound left was the frantic, shallow rhythm of my own breathing and the steady, mechanical ticking of the heart monitor echoing from Celeste's room next door.

Adrian stood still. His broad back faced me, rigid and unyielding as a slab of granite under the blinding white halogen bulbs.

"Adrian," I whispered. My voice cracked, raw and pathetic.

I strained against the nylon straps, lifting my head off the examination chair to look at him.

"Please," I begged, the fight draining out of me. "I am begging you. Let me keep my baby. Let me keep our child."

He didn't move.

One second passed.

The ticking of the machines felt like a hammer striking against my skull.

Two seconds. Three.

"We can find another donor," I pleaded, tears finally breaking free and tracking hot, humiliating paths down my cheeks. "There are other purebred wolves. Call the neighboring packs. I will pay whatever they ask. I will give them my dowry. Just give me time to make the calls."

Four seconds. Five.

"Alpha," Dr. Thorne urged softly, stepping closer to my husband. "We have to explore other options. I can try a synthetic flush to buy us a few hours."

"A synthetic flush will fail against Silver Thorn," Adrian replied, his tone frighteningly even.

Seven seconds. Eight.

"Adrian, look at me," I sobbed, dropping my head back against the leather cushion. I closed my eyes, trying to hold my broken body together through sheer willpower. "Don't do this to us. Don't murder your own flesh and blood."

Ten seconds.

A full ten seconds of agonizing, suffocating silence.

Then, Adrian turned around.

I opened my eyes, staring into the face of the man I had married. I searched for the Alpha who had stood at the altar with me three years ago, the man who had spoken vows of protection, loyalty, and honor.

That man was gone.

His amber eyes held zero warmth. They were hollow, calculating, and detached from the pregnant woman weeping in the chair.

He looked right past my desperate, tear-soaked face, fixing his attention on the physician standing by the operating table.

"Do it."

The heavy mechanical pump roared to life. It didn't pull the blood smoothly. It sucked the life from my vein.

"Increase the flow rate," Dr. Thorne ordered, his hands shaking over the plastic dial. "The mutated venom is spreading too fast. We need higher volume."

A brutal, irreversible tearing ripped through the very center of my womb. I arched off the leather chair, screaming as the metal restraints bit into my wrists. A fresh wave of hot blood flooded between my thighs, turning the blue hospital gown a sickening blackish-red.

"My baby!" I gasped out, thrashing against the nylon straps. "Adrian, make them stop! Please!"

Adrian stood by the door, staring at the floor tiles. He didn't look up. He didn't flinch.

The machine emitted a high-pitched, continuous beep. The target volume was reached.

"She's crashing!" a nurse screamed, shoving past Adrian with a metal crash cart. "Blood pressure is bottoming out! Get the oxygen!"

Paddles ripped my gown open. The blinding white halogen lights on the ceiling flickered, then swallowed my vision completely.

Late the next night, the sterile smell of iodine dragged me back to consciousness.

I lay still on a fresh hospital bed. I pressed my palm flat against my lower stomach. The familiar, protective weight deep in my pelvis was gone. An absolute, echoing emptiness remained. My womb was a graveyard.

Adrian stood by the room's window, staring out into the dark pack lands.

"You survived," he said. His voice carried a rough, scraped quality.

I didn't answer. I stared at the ceiling tiles.

"Celeste is out of danger," he continued, keeping his broad back to me. "The heavy filtration cleared the mutated venom from her organs."

"And the price?" I asked, my tone flat.

He finally turned around. Shadows clung to the angles of his jaw. He looked exhausted, but his amber eyes remained hard. "The pregnancy terminated during the second extraction. The fetus didn't make it."

He watched my face. His gaze tracked my every movement. He waited for the breakdown. He braced himself for the screaming, the shattered plates, the hysterical sobbing of a grieving mother.

I blinked once. I adjusted the thin cotton sheet over my chest.

"Understood," I said.

Adrian frowned, stepping away from the window. "That is all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, pushing myself up against the headboard. "Do you want me to beg for a child that is already dead? Do you want me to apologize for bleeding out on your hospital floor?"

"I want you to show some remorse," he snapped, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "A life was lost today because of your jealousy."

"A life was lost because you strapped me to a chair and drained me dry," I fired back, my voice dangerously calm. "You traded my child for your savior. The transaction is complete."

"Do not speak about this like a business deal." He marched to the foot of my bed, gripping the metal railing. "It was a medical necessity caused by your own treachery. You brought this on yourself."

"Whatever helps you sleep, Alpha," I said, turning my face toward the blank wall.

The metal door handle clicked open.

Celeste leaned against the doorframe. She wore a baggy white hospital gown, her blonde hair falling in messy clumps around her pale face. No nurses flanked her.

"Adrian," she whispered, her voice frail and trembling. "I woke up and you weren't there."

Adrian released my bedrail and crossed the room in three strides. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight. "You shouldn't be out of bed. Your body is too weak for walking."

"I had to come," she murmured, resting her head against his chest. She turned her face toward me, her eyes wide and innocent. "I had to thank our Luna."

I sat up completely. My muscles screamed in protest, but I locked my spine straight.

"You owe me nothing, Celeste," I said.

"But I do," she insisted, taking a shaky step into the room. "You gave up so much for me. I am forever in your debt. I heard about the... complication."

"It wasn't a complication," I replied. "It was an execution."

"Stop it," Adrian warned me, he growled. "She is trying to offer her condolences."

"Let me get you a chair," Adrian said to Celeste, stepping away from her for a fraction of a second to grab the plastic seat by the wall.

The moment his back turned, Celeste's fragile, trembling demeanor vanished entirely.

She stood straight. A sharp, victorious smirk stretched across her pale lips. She slid her hand into the oversized pocket of her gown and pulled the fabric down just an inch.

A bright yellow plastic wristband peeked out.

I recognized the red barcode stamped across the center. It was a Level Four access tag. Only the internal pharmacy supervisor possessed that specific band. It was the only key that could open the secure vault where the Silver Thorn venom was legally stored.

She tapped the plastic band twice with her index finger, locking eyes with me to ensure I understood the message. She had the supervisor in her pocket. She had orchestrated the entire poisoning.

Adrian turned back around with the chair.

Celeste slumped forward, gasping in fake pain. He caught her by the shoulders, easing her into the seat.

"Are you alright?" he asked, brushing the hair from her face.

"Just dizzy," she sighed, clutching his hand. "Luna, I hope we can move past this tragedy. I hope we can be a family."

I looked at the woman who had framed me, murdered my child, and stolen my husband's loyalty.

"We will get exactly what we deserve," I told her.

Adrian glared at me. "Show some respect. She is trying to make peace after you nearly killed her."

"Take her back to her room, Adrian," I said, leaning back against my pillows. "She needs her rest."

He scoffed, scooping Celeste up into his arms. He didn't look at me again as he carried her out into the hallway, kicking the door shut behind them.

I sat alone in the quiet room.

No tears came. The grief had been burned away, leaving only cold, hard ash.

I slid my hand beneath the flat hospital pillow. My fingers closed around the cracked screen of my phone.

I unlocked the device and opened a secure, encrypted message thread. I typed in the number of Elias, my former Beta guard who had been exiled to the border patrols last year.

I typed a line.

"The pharmacy supervisor is compromised; begin the hunt."

I pressed send.