Pain tore through me in relentless waves, each one threatening to pull me under into darkness. I gripped the hospital bed rails, my knuckles white with strain as another contraction ripped through my body.

"Luna Kehlani, you need to push!" Dr. Sarah Mitchell's voice seemed distant through the fog of agony. "Your wolf is too weak—she can't help with the healing. We need to get this pup out now!"

I bore down with all my strength, a scream tearing from my throat. Blood soaked the sheets beneath me—too much blood. My suppressed wolf whimpered weakly inside me, unable to lend me her strength. Years of hiding my true Alpha bloodline had weakened us both.

"The Alpha—has he been contacted?" I gasped between contractions.

Dr. Mitchell's expression tightened as she checked the monitor. "I've been mind-linking him for the past hour, Luna. He's not responding."

Another wave of pain crashed over me, but this time it wasn't just physical. The mate bond flared in my chest—a one-sided agony that burned like acid. Nathaniel was somewhere in the pack territory, probably with her. The thought made me push harder.

"I need to try again," Dr. Mitchell muttered, closing her eyes to concentrate on the mind-link. "Alpha Nathaniel, your Luna is hemorrhaging. The pup is in distress. You need to come to the hospital now!"

I turned my head, tears streaming down my face as I pushed again. The room spun around me, darkness creeping at the edges of my vision.

"Luna, stay with me!" Dr. Mitchell snapped her fingers in front of my face. "We're losing you both!"

Suddenly, her eyes widened. She was getting a response.

"Alpha, thank the Moon Goddess," she breathed. "Luna Kehlani is fading. You need to—"

Her face fell as she listened to his response. The silence stretched between us, broken only by my ragged breathing and the beeping of machines.

"What did he say?" I whispered.

Dr. Mitchell's hands trembled as she adjusted the IV drip. "He... he said he can't come."

Another contraction hit, and I screamed again, this time from both physical pain and heartbreak.

"He said Bridget is having a panic attack because she sensed a rogue at the borders," Dr. Mitchell continued, her voice tight with barely controlled anger. "He said I should 'just handle it' and that he has more important matters to attend to."

I laughed through my tears—a bitter, broken sound. More important than his mate giving birth to his child? Of course. Bridget always came first.

"I won't die," I growled, summoning what little strength remained. "My pup won't die. Not for him."

With one final, tremendous effort, I felt my son slip into the world. His tiny cry filled the room as Dr. Mitchell quickly cleaned and wrapped him.

"He's beautiful," she whispered, placing him in my arms. "Strong, despite everything."

I gazed down at my son's tiny face, his eyes squeezed shut as he wailed his arrival into this world. Something fierce and protective bloomed in my chest—the last flicker of my dormant Alpha blood.

Hours passed in a blur of pain medication and afterbirth contractions. I drifted in and out of consciousness, holding my son close. Dr. Mitchell had stepped out to handle paperwork, leaving us alone.

The door swung open, and the scent hit me before I saw him—Bridget's cloying floral perfume all over his clothes, his skin, his hair. Nathaniel strode in, his expression unreadable as he glanced at me and then at the bundle in my arms.

"You're awake," he said flatly.

"Our son," I whispered, my voice raw from screaming. "Meet your son."

He approached slowly, his eyes scanning Hollis's tiny form with clinical detachment. "He looks small."

"He's perfect," I countered, pulling Hollis closer protectively.

Nathaniel's nostrils flared as he leaned closer. "He smells weak. Like his mother."

The words cut deeper than any knife. I watched as his gaze drifted to the clock on the wall, already calculating his escape.

"You should rest," he said, not meeting my eyes. "I have... matters to attend to."

Before I could respond, his body stiffened. His eyes unfocused slightly—he was receiving a mind-link.

"Nathaniel?" I reached for his hand.

He jerked away as if burned. "Bridget needs me. She's in pain."

Without another word, without even touching his son, he turned and walked toward the door.

"Nathaniel, please," I begged, hating the desperation in my voice. "Just hold him once."

He paused at the threshold, his broad shoulders tense. For one heartbreaking moment, I thought he might stay.

Then his phone chimed with a message. He read it and his face softened—the expression I'd never seen directed at me.

"Bridget says it hurts too much. I have to go."

And just like that, he was gone—leaving behind only the lingering scent of another woman's perfume and the hollow ache in my chest where our bond should have been.

Three years passed like a slow, torturous dream. Each day blurred into the next, marked only by new humiliations and the quiet strength it took to endure them.

I stood at the window of the Pack House, watching Hollis play in the garden below. At three years old, my son was beautiful—dark hair like his father's, but with my eyes. His laughter carried on the wind as he chased butterflies, though I noticed how quickly he glanced toward the main house, searching for a glimpse of his father.

"Luna Kehlani," a sharp voice called behind me. "The Alpha requests the monthly territory reports."

I turned to see Elena Cole—Nathaniel's mother—standing in the doorway. Her lips curled in disgust as she looked me over.

"Yes, Elder Elena," I replied, keeping my voice neutral. "I'll have them prepared by noon."

"Don't bother," she sniffed. "Bridget will handle them. You're needed in the kitchen to prepare for tonight's ceremony."

Of course. Bridget would take credit for my work, as always.

As Elena left, I caught my reflection in the mirror—pale skin, dark circles under my eyes, my once-vibrant hair now dull. The mate bond in my chest ached constantly, a one-sided pain that never subsided.

"Mama?" Hollis's small voice pulled me from my thoughts. He stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with excitement. "Is today really my special day?"

I forced a smile, kneeling to his level. "Yes, sweetheart. Today is your shifting ceremony."

"Will Papa be there?" His voice dropped to a whisper, hope and fear mingling in his expression.

The question pierced my heart. "He's the Alpha, Hollis. He has to be there."

But even as I said it, I knew better. Nathaniel would come late, leave early, and barely acknowledge his son's existence.

---

The Great Hall glowed with candlelight as pack members gathered for Hollis's ceremony. I stood at the edge of the circle, dressed in the traditional Luna's robes that felt like a costume on my body. Bridget sat in the front row, draped in jewels and wearing a dress more suited to a gala than a sacred ritual.

"Today we gather to witness if the Alpha's heir carries the spirit of his wolf," the high priest announced, his voice echoing through the hall.

Hollis stood in the center of the circle, his small face solemn as he followed the priest's instructions. My heart swelled with pride at how brave he looked.

The chanting began—ancient words meant to call forth a wolf spirit if it existed within the child. Hollis closed his eyes, his tiny face scrunched in concentration.

Then Bridget's scream shattered the moment.

"Stop!" she wailed, collapsing dramatically onto the stone floor. "I can't breathe!"

Nathaniel was at her side instantly, his face contorted with panic. "Bridget! What's wrong?"

"My heart," she gasped, clutching her chest. "It's stopping. The ceremony—it's triggering my heat early. Violently early!"

I knew immediately what was happening. There was no heat, no medical emergency. Just another performance to steal attention from my son's moment.

"Alpha," the priest warned, "we must finish the ceremony. The circle has been formed."

But Nathaniel was already lifting Bridget into his arms. "The ceremony can wait. My mate needs me."

"Your mate?" I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Nathaniel's eyes flashed to mine, cold and dismissive. "Bridget is my chosen mate. You know that."

The pack members murmured as Nathaniel turned to leave, breaking the sacred circle with his departure. The energy of the ritual surged wildly, seeking balance.

A crack of thunder shook the hall. Hollis cried out as the backlash of energy knocked him backward. I lunged forward, but I was too far away.

My son fell onto a rack of ceremonial silver daggers that lined the perimeter of the circle. One blade sliced deep into his arm, blood blooming across his white ceremonial shirt.

"Hollis!" I screamed, reaching him just as he began to wail in pain.

But Nathaniel didn't even look back. He was already at the door, Bridget cradled against his chest like precious cargo.

"Hollis is hurt!" I shouted after him. "Your son is bleeding!"

He paused at the threshold, glancing back—but his eyes weren't on Hollis. They were on Bridget, who had buried her face in his neck.

"Handle it," he said flatly. "I have more important matters."

And then they were gone, leaving my bleeding son in my arms as whispers erupted throughout the hall.

I pressed my hand against Hollis's wound, my own blood mixing with his as I tried to stop the bleeding. Something stirred within me—not just maternal instinct, but something deeper. A dormant power I had suppressed for too long.

As Hollis whimpered against me, I made a silent vow: This would be the last time Nathaniel Cole abandoned his son for another woman. The last time he broke our hearts.

Something was changing inside me—something that had been buried beneath years of submission and pain.

My wolf stirred, awakening from her long slumber.

The chaos of the Great Hall swirled around me as I clutched Hollis to my chest. His blood seeped through my fingers, staining the white ceremonial cloth. The pack members' whispers faded to background noise as I focused solely on my son's wound.

"Hollis, look at me," I whispered, tilting his chin up. His small face was pale with shock, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Mama's going to fix this."

I pressed my hands against the gash on his arm, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. The wound was deep—too deep for a child his age. Panic surged through me, breaking through the carefully constructed walls I'd built around my true self.

"Heal," I murmured, forgetting everything except my need to protect my child.

Something stirred within me—a power I'd suppressed for years. A faint violet light shimmered beneath my palms, and I felt a surge of energy flow from me into Hollis. The bleeding stopped almost instantly, the edges of the wound drawing together at an unnatural speed.

Hollis's eyes widened. "Mama, your eyes..."

I froze, realizing my mistake. In my panic, I'd allowed my suppression to slip. My eyes—my royal Lycan eyes—must have flashed their true color.

"Close your eyes, sweetheart," I whispered urgently. "Mama's going to tell you a secret."

I quickly reconstructed my mental barriers, forcing the power back down. The violet light faded, but the wound had already closed significantly—far faster than normal.

"What's happening?" Hollis whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Just a trick I learned from your uncle," I lied, my heart racing. "Don't tell anyone, okay? It's our secret."

He nodded solemnly, and I kissed his forehead, relief washing over me. No one else had noticed—or so I hoped.

---

Later that night, I sat beside Hollis's bed in the nursery, watching his chest rise and fall as he slept. The bandage on his arm was clean and dry—no sign of the silver dagger's work remained.

The door opened without a knock. Nathaniel's scent—tinged with Bridget's perfume—filled the room before he did.

"You're still up," he said flatly, not bothering to lower his voice.

I rose from the chair, gesturing toward the hallway. "He's finally asleep. Please don't wake him."

In the corridor, I turned to face my mate. "How is Bridget?"

His eyes narrowed. "Traumatized. The ceremony triggered her heat prematurely."

"There was no heat," I said quietly. "There never is."

Nathaniel's face darkened. "Watch yourself, Kehlani. You forget your place."

"My place is protecting our son," I countered, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "The son you abandoned during his ceremony."

"You dare blame me?" He stepped closer, his Alpha aura pressing against me. "Your weak genes are to blame. A true Alpha pup would have withstood the energy backlash."

The words cut deep, but I refused to cower. "Hollis is three years old."

"Which is why he needs a strong influence." Nathaniel's tone shifted to one of cold command. "You will apologize to Bridget tomorrow. She's distraught over the incident."

"Distraught that she ruined our son's ceremony?"

His hand shot out, gripping my wrist painfully. "Enough. You will make amends, or there will be consequences."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me shaking with anger and something else—something that felt dangerously close to rebellion.

---

The next afternoon, I stood in the corner of the Pack House's grand parlor, invisible in my plain dress while Elena directed preparations for the High Tea.

"The Silver Creek Luna prefers her tea with honey," she instructed one of the pack's Omegas. "And the Moon Valley Luna takes hers with lemon."

I watched silently as tables were arranged in a horseshoe formation, with the place of honor—next to Nathaniel—clearly reserved for someone special.

"Luna Kehlani," Elena's sharp voice cut through my thoughts. "You will be serving today."

I stepped forward. "Of course, Elder Elena."

"Not at the table," she clarified, her lip curling slightly. "You'll be pouring tea and serving cakes. Bridget will be seated with the other Lunas."

As if summoned by her name, Bridget swept into the room. She wore a pale blue dress—Luna colors—with silver accents that matched the traditional Luna pendant around her neck. My pendant.

"Perfect timing," Elena smiled warmly at Bridget—a smile I'd never received. "Take your seat, dear. The other Lunas will arrive soon."

Bridget's eyes met mine as she took her place at Nathaniel's right hand. A small, triumphant smile played at the corners of her mouth.

I turned away, busying myself with the tea service. But inside, something was shifting—the first cracks forming in the dam I'd built around my true self.

As I arranged delicate china cups on a silver tray, I caught sight of my reflection in the polished surface. For just a moment, my eyes flashed violet—a warning of what was to come.