After My Alpha Chose Vanessa

The train journey blurred into a haze of pain and fleeting consciousness. Each mile that carried me further from Shadowmere felt like both victory and agony. Anya's presence flickered within me like a candle in a storm, sometimes so faint I feared she had finally left me.

"Just a little longer," I whispered to her, though I wasn't sure if she could even hear me anymore.

Three train changes, two taxi rides, and one final desperate walk through unfamiliar forest later, I found myself stumbling along the border of Moonshire territory. The ancient pack lands called to something deep within me—a memory of safety from childhood visits, perhaps, or simply the promise of my mother's arms.

My vision swam as I crossed the boundary line, the scent markers of the Moonshire wolves both foreign and somehow familiar. The wolfsbane still burned through my veins, but something else burned alongside it now: hope.

The small cottage appeared through the trees like a mirage, smoke curling from its chimney against the dawn sky. My mother's home. I hadn't seen her in seven years—not since Alexander claimed me as his mate but chose Vanessa instead, keeping me prisoner in all but name.

My legs finally gave out just yards from her door. I collapsed onto the dew-damp grass, my bag spilling open beside me. The photograph of my mother fluttered out, her smiling face the last thing I saw before darkness claimed me.

"Isabella? Goddess above—Isabella!"

The voice pierced through layers of unconsciousness, familiar and beloved. Strong arms lifted me, cradling me against a chest that smelled of home.

"Mom," I managed to whisper before slipping away again.

Fragments of awareness came and went. Cool cloths on my forehead. Bitter herbs on my tongue. Urgent voices speaking in hushed tones.

"...wolfsbane poisoning, Eleanor. The worst case I've ever seen."

"Will she survive, Elara?"

"That depends on her wolf. And how much more her body can endure."

I drifted through darkness and pain, occasionally surfacing to catch glimpses of my mother's worried face or the weathered hands of an older woman I didn't recognize. They worked tirelessly over me, applying poultices that burned and salves that soothed.

"Anya," I called into the void within me. "Anya, please answer me."

For the first time in years, I felt her stir—not with the pain and weakness I'd grown accustomed to, but with something like curiosity. Like hope.

The unfamiliar woman—Elara, I presumed—placed her palms directly over my heart, murmuring words in an ancient language I couldn't understand. Warmth spread from her touch, seeping through my skin and into my veins, seeking out the poison that had nearly destroyed me.

"Her wolf is responding," Elara said, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. "Bring the lunar water."

My mother's tear-streaked face appeared above me, her hands trembling as she held a small vial of silvery liquid to my lips.

"Drink, my darling. This was collected under the full moon at the sacred pool. It will help Anya find her way back."

The liquid tasted of starlight and secrets, cool and electric on my tongue. It slid down my throat and ignited something deep within me—something I thought had died the day I lost my unborn pup.

Anya stirred more strongly, her presence growing from a flicker to a steady glow. I could almost see her in my mind's eye—her silver fur matted and dull, streaked with the scars of our suffering, but her eyes... her eyes were clearing.

Through the night they worked over me, Elara applying ancient poultices to my arms where the wolfsbane had blackened my veins, my mother bathing my forehead and whispering encouragements. The lunar-infused salves seemed to seek out Anya directly, coating her silver-flecked fur with healing light.

When dawn broke again, I opened my eyes to clarity for the first time in what felt like forever. My mother sat beside me, her head drooping in exhausted sleep. Elara stood at the window, her silhouette outlined by the rising sun.

"You're very lucky," she said without turning. "Another day with that poison in your system and we would have lost you both."

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice raw.

She turned then, and I saw a face lined with wisdom and power. "Don't thank me yet, child. You've survived the night, but your journey to healing has only just begun." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And I suspect your Alpha won't let you go so easily."

Within me, Anya stirred again, stronger this time. For the first time in seven years, I felt a glimmer of hope that we might actually survive.

---

Meanwhile, in Shadowmere territory, Vanessa paced the length of Alexander's study, her white nightgown flowing behind her like ghostly wings.

"She could be telling our secrets to rival packs as we speak," she hissed, watching Alexander pore over maps of the surrounding territories. "That Omega has always been unstable. Dangerous."

Alexander's jaw tightened. "She's hardly a threat, Vanessa. She's weak, probably sick from whatever made her collapse at our ceremony."

"Then why are you so intent on finding her?" Vanessa asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

He didn't answer immediately, his fingers tracing the route to the European territories. Ragnar's distress had only grown stronger since Isabella's disappearance, a constant pressure behind his ribs that made no sense to him.

"Pack law," he finally said. "No one leaves without permission."

Vanessa's eyes narrowed. She moved to stand behind him, her hands sliding over his shoulders in a possessive caress.

"Of course, my love," she murmured. "I'm only concerned for our pack's safety." She pressed a kiss to his temple, but her mind was already elsewhere, calculating.

Later that night, she slipped away to meet a shadow at the edge of pack territory—a mercenary wolf with cold eyes and a reputation for discretion.

"Find her in Moonshire," Vanessa instructed, pressing a pouch of gold into his palm. "And make sure she never returns to trouble us again."