After My Mate Poisoned Our Son, I Took Revenge

The funeral pyre still smoldered outside the Pack House windows, ashes of my beloved Avery drifting into the night sky. The pack had dispersed, their condolences hollow echoes in my ears. I stood alone in our private quarters, my son's toy wolf clutched against my chest, when the door opened.

Tobias entered, his Alpha presence filling the room. He looked composed, not a hint of grief on his perfect features.

"You should rest," he said, his voice gentle in a way that made my skin crawl.

I straightened my spine, my wolf surging forward with newfound courage. "I know what you did."

His expression didn't change. "What I did?"

"The Wolfsbane on your collar." My voice trembled with rage rather than fear. "I smelled it during the ceremony. You and Janelle were together before—"

His mask dropped so quickly I barely saw it fall. One moment he was the concerned mate; the next, a predator revealed his teeth.

"Our son was defective," he said coldly, circling me like prey. "A Late Bloomer who would have embarrassed my lineage for generations."

The toy wolf slipped from my fingers. "He was five years old!"

"And still hadn't shown signs of shifting." Tobias's eyes hardened. "The Rogers bloodline doesn't accept weakness."

"You murdered our child!" I screamed, lunging toward him.

I never made it. His voice cut through the air like a whip.

"Submit, Sylvia. Kneel."

The Alpha Command hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled against my will, my body betraying me as it was forced to obey. My wolf howled in rage within me, but even she couldn't fight the biological imperative of an Alpha's direct command.

"Sylvia, Sylvia," Tobias sighed, crouching before me. "Why did you have to notice? Things were so much easier when you were the perfect, blind Luna."

His fingers gripped my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "You'll understand eventually. This is for the good of the pack."

I fought against the invisible weight crushing my body, but it was useless. Tobias dragged me down the hidden staircase to the basement, my limbs moving against my will.

---

The silver-lined panic room was meant for rogue attacks, not for imprisoning Lunas. The walls gleamed dully in the low light, the metal seeping into my pores and weakening my wolf further.

"Dr. Cross will be here soon," Tobias said, locking the heavy door. "She's the best psychologist in the Council."

I pressed my palms against the cool silver bars. "What are you doing?"

"Protecting our pack from a Feral Luna." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Your grief has driven you mad, my love. Everyone understands."

Dr. Helena Cross arrived within hours, her professional demeanor barely masking her contempt. She set up recording equipment outside my cell.

"Luna Sylvia," she began, her voice clinical, "I need to assess your mental state after the tragic loss of your son."

"I'm not crazy," I snarled. "Tobias poisoned Avery with Wolfsbane during the ceremony!"

She nodded sympathetically while making notes. "The delusions are consistent with Post-Traumatic Feral Psychosis."

"They're not delusions!" I screamed, rattling the bars. "Check the cup! Test it for Wolfsbane!"

Dr. Cross continued her interview, twisting my words into a diagnosis that painted me as dangerously unstable. When she played back the recording, my desperate accusations had been edited into incoherent rants.

Meanwhile, Tobias addressed the pack through the mind-link.

*Our Luna's grief has broken her mind. She's become Feral—a danger to herself and others. For her protection, she'll remain secluded until she recovers.*

---

The basement door creaked open three days later. Janelle's silhouette appeared, backlit by torchlight. Around her neck gleamed my Luna necklace—the silver crescent moon pendant that had belonged to my mother.

"Comfortable, Sylvia?" Janelle's voice dripped with false concern.

"Where did you get that?" I whispered, staring at my stolen heirloom.

"Tobias gave it to me years ago." She stepped closer, letting the necklace catch the light. "When we first became lovers."

My wolf snarled within me. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Janelle leaned against the bars. "Did you really think he chose you for love? That witch's herbs created your 'fated' bond."

She reached through the bars, her fingers brushing my cheek in a mockery of affection. "You were just a convenient way to merge territories. A broodmare who produced a defective pup."

"Janelle," Tobias's voice called from the stairway.

She smiled, stepping back. "Once you're declared Feral at the Summit, I'll be the official Luna. Tobias will reject you publicly."

As she turned to leave, the necklace swung between her shoulder blades—my heritage, my identity, now adorning the murderer of my child.

My fingers curled around the silver bars, blood seeping from where my skin touched the metal. The pain cleared my mind, sharpening my focus.

They thought they had broken me.

They were wrong.