After My Mate Chose His Mistress, I Fought

I couldn't just lie there. Not while they were taking my son's essence—his very spirit—for that woman. My body screamed in protest as I forced myself to sit up, blood still seeping between my legs, staining the thin hospital gown. The pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest where my son should be alive and safe.

*Move now,* Lyra commanded, her voice stronger than I'd ever heard it. *They're taking him.*

I slid my feet to the cold floor, gripping the edge of the bed as the room tilted dangerously. My legs trembled, threatening to collapse beneath me. But Lyra sent a surge of strength through my limbs, steadying me just enough.

*Follow them,* she urged. *We need proof.*

Clutching the wall for support, I crept to the door and peered into the dimly lit corridor. Three figures in dark robes moved silently down the hallway, one of them carrying a small bundle I recognized instantly—my son's body. My heart constricted painfully, but I forced back the sob threatening to escape.

I waited until they turned the corner before following, keeping to the shadows. My bare feet made no sound on the stone floor as I trailed them through winding corridors I'd never seen before, deeper into the pack house than I'd ever ventured.

The masked healers stopped before an ornate door hidden behind a tapestry depicting the Moon Goddess. One of them pressed their palm against the wood, murmuring words I couldn't catch. The door swung open, releasing a wave of incense-heavy air.

I waited until the door closed behind them before approaching. Pressing my ear against the wood, I could hear muffled chanting from within. Carefully, I pushed the door open just enough to peer inside.

The room was circular, lit by black candles that cast grotesque shadows on the stone walls. In the center stood a raised altar where my son's tiny body lay exposed. Surrounding him were five healers, their faces hidden behind bone-white masks. Behind a heavy velvet curtain to one side, I glimpsed a figure reclining on a chaise—Vivian.

"Begin the extraction," ordered a voice I recognized as the head healer's. "The recipient's wolf spirit grows weaker by the hour."

I watched in horror as they produced gleaming silver instruments and crystal vials. One by one, they removed my son's organs—his heart, his lungs, his liver—placing each into separate containers filled with shimmering liquid. With each extraction, the liquid glowed brighter, capturing the essence of my child's wolf spirit.

"His essence is strong," one healer remarked. "The Alpha King's bloodline runs true, even in death."

"The recipient will be pleased," another replied. "Her wolf will not only survive but thrive with this power."

My body turned to stone. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't even blink as they desecrated my son's body. They knew. They knew who I was—who my father was—and they were harvesting my son's power for Vivian.

*Isabella,* Lyra's voice cut through my paralysis. *We must retreat. Now. We can't fight them like this.*

She was right. In my weakened state, confronting them would only get us killed. With trembling limbs, I backed away from the door, careful not to make a sound. The moment I was far enough down the corridor, I turned and fled as quickly as my battered body would allow.

By the time I reached my room, fresh blood was streaming down my legs, and my vision swam with dark spots. I collapsed onto the bed, curling around the emptiness where my son had been.

*We need help,* Lyra growled. *It's time to call on your father's pack.*

"I can't," I whispered. "I left that life behind."

*And look where it got us,* she snarled. *Our pup is dead. His essence stolen. And your mate—* she spat the word *—orchestrated it all.*

She was right. I had been a fool to think I could escape my heritage, that I could live as an ordinary Luna. That Marcus had ever truly loved me.

With shaking hands, I closed my eyes and reached for the pack mind-link—a connection I hadn't used in years. I focused on one presence in particular, one that had always been loyal to my father.

*Kael,* I called, pushing past the barriers of distance. *Beta of the Moonveil Pack, hear me.*

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then—

*Princess Isabella?* His voice was shocked, concerned. *What has happened?*

Instead of words, I sent him images: my humiliation before the packs, my son's death, the forbidden ritual I had just witnessed. I felt his fury build with each passing second.

*Hold on, Princess,* he growled. *I'm coming. And I'm bringing the full might of the Moonveil Pack with me.*

As the connection faded, I felt Lyra stir within me, her presence growing stronger, more dominant than ever before.

*They think they've broken us,* she whispered. *But they've only awakened what I've always been.*

In the darkness of the healing room, I felt something shift inside me—something ancient and powerful that had slumbered for far too long. The daughter of the Alpha King was finally waking up.