Lana POV:

The house was too big. The silence was too loud.

I sat on the floor of the master bedroom, surrounded by unopened wedding gifts. Crystal vases, silver platters, silk sheets. All for a life that was a lie.

The landline phone on the bedside table began to ring.

I stared at it. Nobody called the landline.

I picked it up. "Hello?"

There was no answer. Just sounds.

Heavy, ragged breathing. The wet sound of skin slapping against skin. The creaking of a bedspring.

My blood ran cold.

"Oh, goddess... Alpha... right there..."

It was Caren's voice. High-pitched, breathless.

"You like that, my little charm?" Jameson's voice. Rough. Guttural.

It was a pocket dial. Or, knowing Caren, a deliberate "mistake."

I should have hung up. I should have thrown the phone against the wall. But I was frozen.

I listened.

I heard the distinct, animalistic growls that accompany the Heat.

The Heat is a biological imperative. When wolves are in Heat, pheromones flood the brain. Logic disappears. It is raw, primal need.

Jameson was spending his Heat with her. Not me.

In the corner of the room, our pet parrot-a rare, magical bird from the Amazon that could mimic any sound perfectly-flapped its wings.

"Lucky Charm! Lucky Charm!" the bird squawked. "Harder, Alpha!"

I covered my mouth. The bird had heard them. They had been here. In this room. In my bed. Before the wedding.

A wave of nausea hit me. It wasn't just disgust. It was physical.

The world spun. I dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I emptied my stomach.

I heaved until there was nothing left, my body trembling.

I sat back against the cold tiles, wiping my mouth.

Wolves don't get sick. Our immune systems are perfect. Unless...

I looked at the cabinet under the sink. I had bought a box of pregnancy tests weeks ago, just in case. Wolf pregnancies are rare. It usually takes years of trying.

My hands shook as I opened the box. I took the test.

Three minutes.

I sat on the bathroom floor, counting the seconds. The recording on the phone in the other room was still going, faint moans drifting through the open door.

I looked at the stick.

Two lines. Positive.

The scent of milk and honey suddenly flooded my senses-the scent of a new life. My scent changed.

I was pregnant.

I was carrying the Alpha's heir.

I laughed. It was a dry, broken sound that hurt my throat.

The Moon Goddess had a cruel sense of humor.

I was carrying his child while he was knotting another woman.

The front door downstairs slammed open.

"Lana!" Jameson's voice boomed through the house.

He was back.

I stood up, hiding the test in my pocket. I washed my face, scrubbing my skin until it was red.

I walked out to the landing. Jameson stood in the foyer. He looked disheveled. His hair was messy, his shirt missing buttons.

And the smell.

He reeked of sex. He reeked of her Heat. It was a thick, musky odor that clung to him like a second skin.

He looked up at me, his eyes devoid of guilt. He actually looked annoyed, as if coming home to his wife was a chore he had to endure.

"We need to talk," he said, adjusting his collar. "The Elders are pressuring me. They want an heir to secure the lineage. We need to start trying tonight."

I stared at him from the top of the stairs.

He had just come from her bed, and now he wanted to use my body as an incubator for his legacy.

"Tonight?" I asked, my voice flat.

"Yes. It's my duty. It's your duty," he said, walking toward the kitchen as if nothing had happened. "I'm hungry. Make me a steak."

I touched the plastic stick in my pocket.

My poor pup, I thought. Your father is a monster.

Lana POV:

It was my birthday.

I hadn't expected a party. I hadn't expected anything. But the doorbell rang at 7:00 PM.

Jameson opened it.

"Caren!" he exclaimed, stepping aside to let her in. He didn't look surprised. He looked relieved.

She walked in, holding a thermos flask. She was wearing a dress that was a little too tight, a little too short. She looked at me, her eyes gleaming with malice.

"Happy Birthday, Luna Lana," she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "I brought you something special. A fertility tea. My grandmother's recipe. It helps... broken wolves heal."

"Get out," I said.

Jameson slammed his hand on the table. "Lana! Be polite."

"She is an Omega. She does not belong in the Alpha house uninvited," I said, trying to summon the authority I didn't feel.

"I invited her," Jameson snapped. "She's trying to help us, Lana. She knows we're struggling to conceive. Drink the tea."

"I'm not drinking anything she made," I said, backing away. The thermos smelled wrong. Beneath the peppermint and sage, there was a bitter, metallic undertone.

Jameson's eyes flared. "Stop acting like a child. You're embarrassing me. Drink it. That is an order."

"No."

"I said drink it!"

The Alpha Voice hit me like a sledgehammer. Drink.

My knees buckled. My wolf whined in submission against my will. I collapsed into the dining chair.

Caren smirked. She poured the dark, steaming liquid into a cup. As she leaned in, she whispered so only my wolf hearing could catch it:

"Enjoy it, you barren bitch. You can't even shift. You'll never give him a pup."

My hand moved on its own, fighting every inch of the way. My fingers trembled as I lifted the cup. I didn't want to drink it. My instincts were screaming DANGER.

But the Alpha's Command overrides instinct.

I swallowed the liquid.

It tasted sweet for a second.

Then, fire.

It felt like I had swallowed a mouthful of broken glass and battery acid. My throat seized instantly.

I dropped the cup. I clawed at my neck.

Wolfsbane.

For humans, it's a mild toxin. For wolves, it is death. It shuts down our connection to the moon. It corrodes our insides.

"Lana?" Jameson frowned. "Stop being dramatic."

I couldn't breathe. My airway was closing. Purple spots danced in my vision.

I tried to shift. If I could shift, my healing would accelerate. I pushed, I strained.

Nothing. The poison had locked my wolf away.

I fell off the chair, writhing on the floor.

"Oh my god!" Caren gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. "Did she choke? Is she allergic to sage? I didn't know!"

I pointed to the sideboard. The antidote. Every wolf household keeps a vial of Wolfsbane antidote for emergencies.

I crawled toward it. My lungs were burning. My heart was stuttering.

Jameson stood up. He looked confused.

I reached for the vial.

"Jameson!" Caren shrieked. "She's going to attack me! Look at her eyes!"

My eyes were bloodshot, bulging. I must have looked terrifying.

Jameson didn't think. He reacted.

He saw me reaching out-not for the medicine, but in Caren's direction.

"Back off!" he roared.

He shoved me.

He shoved his dying, pregnant wife.

I flew backward, hitting the wall. The vial of antidote rolled under the sofa, out of reach.

I lay there, gasping like a fish out of water. My vision was going black.

Jameson stood over Caren, shielding her. "Don't you dare touch her, Lana! Apologize to Caren!"

I looked at him. I saw the man I had loved. I saw the father of the child dying inside me.

I summoned every ounce of strength I had left. I didn't use my voice. I used the Mind-Link, forcing it through his block with the sheer power of my desperation.

My Pup... I screamed into his mind. You are killing our Pup...

Then, darkness took me.

Jameson POV:

"My Pup..."

The words echoed in my mind, a haunting loop that drowned out the panic in the room.

Lana was limp on the floor. Her face was turning a terrifying shade of blue.

"Lana!" I screamed, dropping to my knees.

I reached for her, but my hands were shaking so hard I could barely touch her skin. The smell coming off her wasn't the sweet scent of my mate anymore. It was acrid. It smelled like death and burnt sugar.

"She's faking it," Caren whimpered behind me. "She just wants attention, Jameson."

I turned on her, a growl ripping from my chest that I couldn't control. "Shut up! Can't you smell it? It's Wolfsbane!"

I scooped Lana into my arms. She was dead weight.

"Get the car!" I roared at the guards outside. "Now!"

Lana POV:

The world came back in a rush of blinding white light and the sharp sting of antiseptic.

My throat felt like it had been scrubbed with steel wool. Every breath was a labor.

"She's awake," a soft voice said. My mother.

I blinked, my vision clearing. I was in a private room in the Pack Hospital. My father, the High Elder, stood by the window, his aura radiating a fury that made the air heavy. My mother was holding my hand, tears streaming down her face.

And there, at the foot of the bed, was Jameson.

He looked wrecked. His hair was wild, his eyes bloodshot. But he wasn't alone.

Caren was clinging to his arm, sobbing into his sleeve.

"Thank the Goddess," Jameson breathed, taking a step forward. "Lana, I..."

"Stay back," my father growled.

Jameson flinched, his Alpha instincts bristling at the command, but he held his ground. "She is my wife. She is my Luna."

"You poisoned her," my mother spat, her voice trembling.

"It was an accident!" Caren wailed, stepping in front of Jameson. "I didn't know! The herbalist said it was for fertility! I would never hurt the Luna!"

I looked at Caren. She was putting on the performance of a lifetime.

"Wolfsbane," I rasped. My voice sounded like grinding stones. "It burns the moment it touches the tongue, Caren. You knew. You watched me drink it."

"I have a weak nose!" Caren cried. "I'm just a weak Omega!"

"Stop attacking her," Jameson snapped, his protective arm going around Caren's waist instinctively. "She's traumatized, Lana. She didn't mean to do it."

My mother stood up, her eyes flashing silver. "She nearly killed your heir, Jameson! Are you blind?"

Jameson's mother, the former Luna, stormed into the room at that moment. She took one look at Caren clinging to her son and marched forward.

"Get your hands off him, you filth," the former Luna snarled, reaching out to drag Caren away.

Jameson moved faster than I had ever seen.

He stepped between his mother and his mistress. He curled his lip.

A low, warning growl rumbled in his chest. He bared his fangs at his own mother.

The room went deathly silent.

In a pack, baring teeth at a parent-especially a former Luna-is a sign of absolute disrespect. It is a threat of violence.

Jameson froze, realizing what he had done. His eyes widened, the Alpha aggression fading into shock as he realized his instinct to protect Caren had overridden his sanity. His mother stepped back, her hand over her mouth, horror in her eyes.

"You chose her," I whispered into the silence. "You chose the wolf who tried to kill your child over your mother. Over your mate."

Jameson lowered his head, the shame finally hitting him. But he didn't let go of Caren's hand.

"It was an accident," he mumbled, trying to salvage his reality. "We can fix this. The pup..."

"There is no 'we'," I said. I sat up, ignoring the pain in my chest. "I want you out. I want a divorce."

"You can't," Jameson said, his voice rising. "The alliance..."

"The alliance is dead," my father said, walking to the door and opening it. "Get out, Alpha. Before I forget my rank and tear your throat out."