After My Mate Chose His Mistress Over Our Child

The nursery smelled of stale air and sickness. It had been twenty days since I held my daughter, twenty days of scrubbing floors while my heart bled. When Rhys finally granted me a five-minute supervised visit, I nearly tripped over my own feet running up the stairs.

"Thea?" I whispered, pushing open the door.

My baby was curled into a tight ball in the center of her crib. Her breathing was ragged, a wet, rattling sound that made my skin cold. I reached through the bars, my hand brushing her forehead. She was burning up. The heat radiating from her small body wasn't just a fever; it was an inferno.

"Mommy?" Her eyelids fluttered open. Instead of her usual soft brown irises, a flicker of molten gold flashed in the dim light.

My breath hitched. Gold. That was the sign of an Alpha wolf surfacing. But Thea was only two. It was too early. Far too early.

"She's shifting," I gasped, turning to where Rhys stood by the door, his arms crossed. "Rhys, look at her eyes. She's trying to shift. Her body can't handle it yet. We need a specialist from the city immediately."

Rhys pushed off the doorframe, frowning, but before he could take a step, Alessia glided between us. She placed a calming hand on his chest, her touch possessive.

"Oh, Isabelle," she sighed, shaking her head with pity. "Always so dramatic. It’s just a seasonal flu. The fever causes hallucinations and light sensitivity. I’ve already administered a cooling draft."

"It is not the flu!" I screamed, pointing at the crib. "Look at her! Her wolf is clawing to get out! If you don't stabilize her, the energy will burn her organs!"

"Enough!" Rhys’s voice boomed, making Thea whimper. He glared at me, his eyes cold. "Alessia is the Head Healer. You are a wolfless servant who is hysterical from grief. You are projecting your own brokenness onto our daughter."

"Our daughter?" I choked out. "You’re letting that woman kill her!"

"Get out," Rhys commanded, pointing to the hall. "Your visit is over."

I was dragged out by two Delta guards, my fingernails scraping against the doorframe as I screamed Thea’s name.

I couldn't go back to the Omega quarters. Not yet. Panic was a living thing inside me, gnawing at my ribs. I knew what I saw. I knew pack medicine. I needed proof.

Waiting until the guards turned the corner, I slipped into the shadows of the hallway. My human feet were silent on the carpet as I crept toward the infirmary. The door was ajar.

I moved to the counter where Thea’s chart lay open. Beside it was a tray of vials filled with a murky, violet liquid. I picked one up, squinting at the label. It was handwritten: *Growth Blocker - Subject T.*

I uncorked it and sniffed. Even without my wolf senses, the scent was unmistakable. Acrid. Bitter. Metallic.

Wolf-bane.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," a voice purred from behind me.

I spun around, nearly dropping the vial. Alessia leaned against a cabinet, a cruel smile playing on her lips. She didn't look worried. She looked amused.

"You're poisoning her," I whispered, horror icing my veins. "You're suppressing her wolf with wolf-bane. That’s why she’s burning up. Her wolf is fighting the poison."

Alessia walked forward, snatching the vial from my trembling fingers. "Suppessing? No. I'm experimenting. Alpha bloodlines are so... resilient. It’s fascinating to see how much chemical stress they can endure before they snap."

"I'll tell Rhys," I hissed, stepping back. "I'll show him this."

"Go ahead." Alessia laughed, a dark, hollow sound. "He’s high on my pheromones, Isabelle. I could tell him the sky is green and he’d believe me. But if you say one word, I’ll double the dose. She’s strong, but she won’t survive the night if I decide to speed things up."

She leaned in close, her breath smelling of mint and malice. "Now, run along, little Omega. It’s my birthday party tonight. I don't want you ruining the mood."

Two hours later, the sky tore open. Thunder shook the foundations of the Pack House, rattling the single small window of the Omega quarters where I was locked in.

The storm mirrored the chaos in my soul. Outside my door, I could hear the muffled thumping of bass from the main hall. They were celebrating. Rhys was toasting the woman who was murdering his child.

I pressed my ear against the cold wood of the door, straining to hear anything from the upper floors.

Suddenly, a sensation hit me—a phantom pain in my chest, sharp and agonizing. Even without my wolf, the maternal bond screamed.

*Thea.*

In my mind’s eye, I saw her. Her small back arching off the mattress. Her bones cracking as the forced shift ripped through her fever-weakened body. She was seizing.

"Help!" I pounded on the door with both fists. "Someone help her! Rhys! Please!"

The music grew louder, drowning out my screams. The storm raged outside, and upstairs, alone in the dark, my daughter began to die.