After My Mate Poisoned Our Pup

I drove back to Ironveil in silence. My hands were steady on the wheel. My breath came in and out at normal intervals. From the outside, I probably looked calm.

Inside, my wolf was howling.

The image wouldn't leave me. Flora's hand on Tate's shoulder. The boy's small voice calling him Daddy. The partial mark on her neck—not fresh, not new, but settled. Established. The kind of mark that comes from a bond maintained over time.

I parked in the Alpha's reserved spot and walked into the pack house with my head up. A few pack members nodded to me in the hall. I smiled back. Automatic. Luna training.

Tate was in our bedroom, changing out of his work clothes. He looked up when I entered and smiled—that warm, easy smile I used to love.

"Hey," he said. "How was your day?"

I closed the door behind me. Locked it. The click was very quiet.

His smile faltered slightly. "Alyssa?"

I stayed by the door, one hand resting on my belly. The mark on my neck throbbed—a dull, sick pulse that had started the moment I saw Flora.

"I went to the mountains today," I said.

For half a second—maybe less—something flickered across his face. Genuine surprise. The look of a man whose carefully constructed system just registered an unexpected breach.

Then it was gone. Replaced by concern. Confusion.

"The mountains?" he repeated. "Why?"

I almost admired the performance. Almost.

"I followed your scent," I said quietly. "To a lakehouse. Very private. Very secluded."

His jaw tightened. Just a fraction.

"I saw Flora Scott," I continued. My voice stayed level. Measured. "I saw your parents. I saw a little boy who called you Daddy. I saw the mark on her neck."

Tate went very still. Then, slowly, he sank to his knees.

It was a beautiful move. Perfectly timed. His head bowed, his hands open at his sides—the picture of remorse.

"Alyssa," he said, and his voice broke just right. "Please. Let me explain."

"Explain," I said.

He looked up at me. His eyes were wet. I wondered if he'd practiced that.

"Flora is a political obligation," he said. "An alliance my father arranged before I became Alpha. The boy—" He swallowed. "That happened before you and I met. Before the Moon Goddess brought us together."

"The mark on her neck looked recent enough," I said.

He shook his head quickly. "Partial. Unofficial. It doesn't mean what you think it means. It's... it's complicated pack politics, love. The kind of thing I should have told you about, but I was trying to protect you from—"

"Protect me," I repeated.

He reached for my hand. I stepped back.

The movement made him freeze. Something shifted in his expression—calculation replacing contrition for just a moment before the mask resettled.

"I love you," he said. "You're my Luna. You're carrying my heir. Flora is... she's an arrangement. A responsibility. But you—"

"I'm leaving," I said.

The words came out steady. Final.

"I'm going to my father," I continued. "I'm petitioning the Alpha Council. And I'm taking our child somewhere you will never touch him."

Tate stood slowly. The remorse drained from his face like water from a broken glass. What remained was something else entirely.

Flat. Efficient. Cold.

"No," he said quietly. "You're not."

I stared at him. "You can't stop me."

"Can't I?" He tilted his head slightly. "You're Luna of this pack, Alyssa. My marked mate. Pregnant with my pup. Where exactly do you think you're going?"

My wolf snarled. I felt her rising, felt the shift beginning—

Tate's Alpha tone slammed into me like a physical blow.

"Stay," he commanded.

My knees buckled. I caught myself against the wall, breathing hard. The mark on my neck burned.

"That's better," Tate said. His voice was almost conversational now. "We're going to handle this quietly, love. You're upset. Hormonal. Pregnancy does that. You need rest."

He moved toward me. I tried to back away, but my body wouldn't fully respond—the Alpha command still holding me in place like invisible chains.

"Don't touch me," I managed.

He stopped. Studied me. His eyes were the eyes of a stranger.

"I didn't want it to be like this," he said. "I really didn't. But you've made things... complicated."

He pulled out his phone. Typed something quickly.

"Cole's on his way," he said. "We're going to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can calm down and think clearly."

"Tate—"

"Shh." He pressed a finger to his lips. "It's going to be fine, Alyssa. You'll see. Everything's going to be fine."

The door opened. Cole Briggs stepped inside, his expression carefully neutral.

"Alpha," he said.

Tate gestured to me. "The Luna needs rest. Secure transport to the eastern den. Private. No mind-link communication."

Cole's eyes flicked to me for a fraction of a second. Then he nodded. "Understood."

I tried to move. Tried to shift. Tried to scream.

The Alpha command held me frozen.

Tate leaned down, his lips close to my ear. His scent—pine and rain—made my stomach turn.

"You should have trusted me, love," he whispered. "You should have stayed quiet."

Then Cole's hand closed around my arm, and everything went dark.