After My Alpha Killed Our Baby, I Took My Crown Back

The Royal Territory loomed ahead, its massive gates gleaming in the afternoon sun. Even from a distance, I could see the long queue of luxury vehicles waiting to enter. My heart hammered against my ribs as Talia's SUV approached the checkpoint.

"We're too late," I whispered, spotting Oliver's black SUV in the VIP lane. "He's already here."

Talia's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "We'll stop him."

She parked hastily at the edge of the lot, and we both jumped out. Pain shot through my injured arm as I stumbled forward, but I pushed through it. Our pup's life depended on stopping Oliver.

"Wait," Talia said, grabbing my uninjured arm. "We need to be smart about this."

But I was already moving, my eyes fixed on Oliver's vehicle. The VIP lane moved faster than the regular one—they'd be scanned soon.

I broke into a run, weaving between parked cars. The wind whipped my hair across my face as I dodged a startled attendant.

"Lyla!" Talia called behind me. "Slow down!"

I couldn't slow down. Not when every second brought Oliver closer to scanning that invitation—my invitation.

I was twenty feet from the VIP checkpoint when a wall of muscle blocked my path.

"Where do you think you're going, Omega?" Marcus Thompson's voice was cold as he stepped in front of me, flanked by two Silverfang warriors.

My skidded to a halt. "Marcus, please—I need to see Oliver."

"Alpha Oliver gave specific orders." Marcus's eyes were hard. "No interruptions. Especially not from you."

"He's making a mistake," I pleaded, trying to sidestep him. "The invitation—"

Strong hands gripped my shoulders, shoving me backward. I stumbled, nearly falling.

"Stay away from the Alpha," one warrior growled.

"Or what?" I challenged, fury rising. "You'll hurt me? Go ahead—show everyone how the Silverfang Pack treats its Luna."

Marcus laughed, the sound ugly. "Luna? You're nothing but a wolfless nobody. A charity case Oliver took pity on."

His words stung worse than the hands now gripping my arms. I struggled against their hold, but they only tightened their grip.

"Let me go!" I shouted, drawing stares from nearby vehicles.

"Look at her," Marcus sneered to the others. "Desperate as always."

Something in me snapped. Years of palace training surged back—muscle memory I'd buried deep.

I dropped my weight, twisting sharply. My injured arm screamed in protest as I slammed my elbow into one warrior's solar plexus. He doubled over, gasping.

The second warrior lunged for me, but I pivoted, using his momentum to throw him into Marcus. Both men crashed to the pavement.

Marcus's eyes widened in shock. "How did you—"

I was already running past them, my heart pounding with adrenaline and fear.

"Stop her!" Marcus shouted.

I sprinted toward the VIP checkpoint, ignoring the burning pain in my arm. "Oliver!" I screamed. "OLIVER!"

Heads turned. Conversations halted. I caught glimpses of expensive gowns and tailored suits as dignitaries and pack leaders stared at the commotion I was creating.

"Oliver!" I called again, pushing through the crowd.

A car door slammed open. Oliver emerged from the VIP lane, his face thunderous with rage.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, stalking toward me.

Behind him, Kori stepped out of the SUV, resplendent in a silver gown that sparkled like moonlight. My breath caught—the dress was designed for a Luna, not a mistress.

"Lyla," she sighed dramatically, her voice carrying to the growing crowd. "Why can't you just accept it? Oliver doesn't love you anymore."

She held up the invitation, its embossed lettering catching the light. "We're going to the Gala. Together. As we should be."

Whispers rippled through the onlookers. I saw pity in some eyes, disgust in others.

"That's not—" I started, but Kori cut me off.

"Please," she said, her voice trembling perfectly. "Just let us have this moment. Stop trying to ruin everything."

Oliver reached her side, his arm sliding possessively around her waist. "Everyone sees what's happening here, right? My ex can't accept that I've moved on."

"I'm not your ex," I gasped, reaching them at last. I ignored Kori, focusing entirely on Oliver. "Please," I whispered, keeping my voice low. "Give me the invitation. It's coded to me. If you try to scan it, the Royal Guard will think you killed the owner."

Oliver's laugh was cruel. "More delusions? You really are pathetic."

He held up the invitation for everyone to see. "This? This is what she's talking about. Some fake invitation she bought on the black market to trick me."

The crowd murmured, some stepping back from me as if my desperation might be contagious.

"I'm telling the truth," I pleaded, my voice breaking. "Oliver, please—"

"Enough!" His voice rose, drawing even more attention. "Everyone needs to hear this. Lyla Harrison is a liar and a fraud. She's been stalking me since I ended things with her."

Kori nodded solemnly beside him, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

And in that moment, as the crowd's judgment fell upon me like stones, I realized just how thoroughly they had planned my humiliation.