After My Mate Poisoned Me, I Unleashed Silver

The device slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor as my world shattered around me. Marcus had orchestrated Jake's death. My brother—my protector, my last family—murdered on my mate's orders. And my babies... my precious unborn pups... deliberately poisoned by the man who was supposed to love and protect me.

A wave of nausea hit me so violently I doubled over, clutching my stomach. For the first time in years, I felt something stir within me—a faint growl of rage from the wolf I thought had abandoned me.

*How dare he? HOW DARE HE?*

I needed proof. I needed help. I needed... Elara.

---

The pack healer's cottage sat at the edge of Shadowfang territory, surrounded by herb gardens and protected by ancient wards. I knocked softly, glancing nervously over my shoulder.

"Luna Lily?" Elara Meadowbrook's weathered face appeared in the doorway, concern etching deeper lines around her kind eyes. "You should be resting after your loss."

"That's why I'm here," I whispered, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. "I need to understand what's happening to my body."

She ushered me inside, the scent of dried herbs and healing tinctures enveloping me. The elderly wolf moved slowly, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a practical braid.

"Sit, child," she said, gesturing to a worn chair beside her examination table. "What troubles you?"

I perched on the edge, hands twisting in my lap. "Three miscarriages, Elara. All at exactly four months. It can't be coincidence."

Something flickered across her face—guilt, perhaps, or fear. She busied herself with arranging bottles on a nearby shelf.

"Have you... noticed anything unusual in my blood work?" I pressed, watching her carefully.

Elara's hands stilled. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken truths.

"Elara, please," I whispered. "I need to know."

She turned slowly, her eyes meeting mine. "There were... compounds I couldn't identify. Something that shouldn't have been there."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Alpha Marcus forbade it," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "He said it would only cause you more distress. That he would handle your treatment personally."

The confirmation hit me like a physical blow. "My tea," I murmured. "He always insists on bringing me evening tea."

Elara's eyes widened. "Luna, what are you suggesting?"

"Nothing," I said quickly, rising to my feet. "Thank you for your honesty."

As I turned to leave, her gnarled hand caught my wrist. "Your condition—the pain insensitivity—I've been treating it for years. You know that means..."

"That I've felt every moment of emotional torment through our bond," I finished for her. "Yes, I know."

---

The pack library was deserted at this late hour, lit only by a single lamp I'd brought with me. Dust motes danced in the beam as I carefully lifted ancient Moonridge texts from the hidden compartment beneath the floorboards—books I'd smuggled in after Jake's death, unwilling to part with my heritage.

My fingers trembled as I turned brittle pages, searching for information on two things: the formal rejection ritual and any mention of my lineage.

There—in faded ink—the ritual words that could sever a mate bond. The price was steep: physical agony, weakened powers, the possibility of never forming another bond. But freedom... freedom would be worth any cost.

I turned to the genealogy texts next, tracing my family line back through generations of Moonridge Alphas. A notation beside my great-grandmother's name caught my eye: *Silver Wolf of the Northern Bloodline*.

Silver wolves were rare—powerful Alpha wolves whose fur gleamed like moonlight. Could that dormant power lie within me? Was that why Marcus had targeted my family, claimed me, then tried to ensure I'd never produce an heir that might threaten his plans?

---

The monthly council meeting was held in the grand hall of the pack house. I slipped in quietly, taking my place in the Luna's chair that had felt increasingly like a throne of thorns. Marcus barely acknowledged my presence, his attention fixed on the documents before him.

Then Victoria entered, and the air left my lungs.

Around her neck hung my mother's silver locket—the crescent moon pendant inlaid with moonstones that had been passed down through generations of Moonridge Lunas. Jake had given it to me after our pack fell. I had kept it hidden in my jewelry box, a precious reminder of what I'd lost.

Marcus had given it to *her*.

"Beautiful necklace," Beta Garrett commented as Victoria took her seat beside Marcus—too close, too familiar.

She smiled, fingers caressing the pendant. "A gift from Marcus. Apparently, it belonged to some minor pack that was too weak to survive. Fitting that it should be... repurposed."

Her eyes met mine across the table, challenge and mockery in their depths. Around us, pack members shifted uncomfortably, averting their gazes. They knew. They all knew what was happening and said nothing.

Something inside me hardened in that moment. The last thread of hope that there might be some explanation, some misunderstanding, snapped cleanly.

As Victoria's fingers continued to stroke my mother's locket, my dormant wolf stirred again, stronger this time.

*Soon*, I promised her. *Soon we'll be free.*