After My Mate Betrayed Me, I Stole His Heir

The cliffs of Blackwater Territory loomed before me, jagged rocks disappearing into the churning ocean below. I sat behind the wheel of the prepared car, my hands trembling slightly on the steering wheel. Behind me lay the Pack House, where chaos still reigned after my public humiliation of Greyson. Ahead lay freedom—or death, as far as anyone would know.

"Are you sure about this?" Alexa whispered beside me, her Beta instincts screaming against what we were about to do.

I touched my stomach gently, feeling the slightest swell that only I could detect. "For my pup, I'm sure."

Alexa nodded, handing me the small pouch of scent-masking herbs. "The brakes will fail at exactly the right moment. The herbs will activate when they hit water, masking your scent completely."

I took a deep breath, Aria whimpering inside me. My wolf didn't want to leave our mate, even after his betrayal. But she understood what needed to be done.

"Take care of Barnaby," I told Alexa, thinking of my faithful pet. "And thank you. For everything."

She squeezed my hand once before stepping back. "Italy awaits you, my friend. A new life."

With that, I pressed the accelerator. The car lurched forward, speeding toward the edge of the cliff. The wind whipped through my hair as I approached the point of no return. My heart pounded in my chest—not from fear, but from determination.

At the last possible moment, I triggered the mechanism that would send the car plummeting into the ocean below. As it sailed through the air, time seemed to slow. I caught a glimpse of the Silverclaw territory spread out below—the forests where I'd run with Greyson, the streams where we'd fished, the meadows where we'd picnicked.

Then came the impact.

---

Miles away, in the Silverclaw Pack House, Greyson's head snapped up suddenly, his eyes widening in horror. The mate bond—that sacred connection blessed by the Moon Goddess herself—twisted violently before going silent.

"Gianna!" he roared, his Alpha voice shaking the walls. "GINNA!"

But there was no answer.

---

The first night without Gianna's scent was torture. Greyson paced the Pack House like a caged animal, his wolf howling inside him. When morning came, he shifted into his wolf form and ran to the cliffs, following the faint trail that led to the edge.

There, he found the scattered remains of the car on the rocks below, waves crashing over twisted metal. But there was no body. No blood. Just the lingering scent of Gianna that abruptly ended where the cliff met the ocean.

"She's gone," he whispered to himself, his human voice breaking. "I killed her."

His wolf took over then, throwing back his head in a howl so mournful it brought pack members running. They found their Alpha at the cliff's edge, naked and wild-eyed, staring at the ocean below.

"Alpha," Marcus Kane, the pack elder, approached cautiously. "We should hold a memorial—"

"No!" Greyson snarled, his eyes flashing with madness. "She's not dead. She can't be dead."

But deep down, he knew the truth. The mate bond was silent—as silent as it would be if she were truly gone.

---

Three days passed with Greyson refusing to leave the cliffside. He hunted raw meat and drank seawater, his clothes torn and filthy. Barnaby, Gianna's beloved pet, sat beside him faithfully, occasionally nudging his hand as if trying to comfort him.

"She was pregnant," he whispered to the dog, his voice hollow. "Our pup... our heir..."

Barnaby whined softly, his tail drooping.

"Alpha Greyson," Marcus Kane approached again, flanked by other pack members. "The pack needs leadership. You cannot stay here forever."

"Leave me alone," Greyson growled, his eyes unfocused.

"The Luna is dead," Marcus said firmly. "And you are killing yourself—and weakening our pack—with this vigil."

Something flashed in Greyson's eyes then—not acceptance, but a cold determination that sent shivers down Marcus's spine.

"She's not dead," he said, rising slowly to his feet. "I would know if she were."

---

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in Florence, Italy, I stepped off the plane into the warm Mediterranean sun. My hand rested protectively over my growing belly as I breathed in the scent of freedom.

"Luna Gianna," a tall Italian man approached with a respectful bow. "Welcome to neutral territory. The Lycan King sends his regards."

I smiled, feeling Aria settle contentedly within me. "Thank you, Lorenzo. Please, call me Gianna Rossi now."

As we drove through the winding streets of Florence, I gazed out at the ancient buildings and bustling markets. Here, no one knew me as the Luna of Silverclaw Pack. Here, I could build a new life for my daughter.

Because I knew now—from the healer's confirmation and my own intuition—that I carried a girl. A daughter with Greyson's strength and my resilience.

"Hattie," I whispered to my unborn child. "That will be your name."

Behind us, an ocean away, a broken Alpha plotted his revenge against an enemy he couldn't find—while unaware that his greatest treasure grew safely in my womb.