After My Mate Poisoned Our Son, I Took Revenge

The silver walls of my prison seemed to pulse with malevolent energy, seeping into my pores and weakening my wolf further. Three days had passed since they'd locked me in this basement cell, and my body ached from the constant contact with silver. My throat burned with thirst, my stomach clawing at itself from hunger.

Tobias wanted me broken. A Feral Luna was easier to dispose of than a grieving mother seeking justice.

I pressed my forehead against the cool metal bars, welcoming the sharp pain as silver burned my skin. The discomfort cleared my mind, sharpening my focus.

"Think, Sylvia," I whispered to myself. "There must be a way."

My wolf stirred within me, her presence dimmed but not extinguished. *The bond*, she urged. *Not the pack link. Something deeper.*

I closed my eyes, remembering a childhood lesson from my father. The IronClaw Pack had an ancient ability—a form of telepathy that predated modern pack bonds. The Old Blood could reach across distances, bypassing standard mind-links.

"You have the blood of Alpha females in your veins," my father had told me when I was twelve. "When all else fails, that blood will find a way."

I hadn't believed him then. Now, I had nothing left to lose.

I sank to my knees on the cold stone floor, focusing inward. The Alpha Command still weighed on me like a physical force, but there were cracks in its foundation—moments when Tobias's control wavered.

*Find the cracks*, my wolf growled. *Use them.*

I thought of Avery's face—his smile, his laugh, the way he'd looked up at Tobias with absolute trust before drinking that poisoned cup. Rage and grief surged through me, twin rivers of pain that threatened to drown me.

But I channeled them instead, directing all that anguish into a single, piercing mental scream.

*Father!*

The word tore from my consciousness like a physical thing, not broadcast to the pack but directed—a laser beam of desperation aimed at the one person who might still care.

*FATHER!*

I felt something give inside me—a wall crumbling, a frequency shifting. The Old Blood responded, carrying my cry across miles of territory, bypassing the blocks Tobias had placed on the pack mind-link.

*Daddy, please...*

The effort left me gasping on the floor, my body trembling with exhaustion. Had it worked? Or had I just wasted my last strength on a childhood fantasy?

Footsteps approached from the stairway—too heavy for Janelle, too hesitant for Tobias. The door creaked open, and Marcus Stone's weathered face appeared in the shadows.

"Luna Sylvia?" His voice was barely audible. "Are you awake?"

Marcus had been our household Omega for years. He'd helped raise Avery, teaching him to track scents in the forest. The old wolf's eyes widened at my condition.

"They're saying you've gone Feral," he whispered, setting down a tray with water and bread. "But I know that's not true."

I grabbed the water jug with shaking hands. "How do you know?"

Marcus glanced nervously at the stairs. "I saw him in the kitchen before the ceremony. Alpha Tobias was... adding something to the chalice. He thought I was too busy to notice."

My heart leapt. "You saw him poison my son?"

He nodded, shame and fear evident in his eyes. "I should have spoken up, but who would believe an Omega over an Alpha? They would have killed me."

I reached through the bars, gripping his wrist. "Marcus, listen to me. They're going to incinerate everything from the ceremony tomorrow. The chalice—"

"It's still in the trash bin behind the kitchen," he interrupted. "They haven't cleaned it yet."

Hope flared within me. "Get it, Marcus. Hide it somewhere safe. It's the only proof we have."

His eyes widened. "Luna, if they catch me—"

"Please." I squeezed his wrist tighter. "For Avery."

Something shifted in the old Omega's expression—fear giving way to resolve. "For the pup," he agreed quietly. "I'll find a way."

---

Miles away, in the grand meeting hall of the IronClaw Pack, my father suddenly gripped his chest. The council members fell silent as Alpha Coleman doubled over, his face contorted in pain.

"Alpha?" his Beta rushed forward. "What's wrong?"

Coleman straightened slowly, his eyes distant. "It's Sylvia," he whispered. "She's in danger."

"But the report said she was grieving," another council member protested. "Alpha Tobias assured us—"

"She's not grieving," Coleman growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave. "She's screaming for help."

He strode to the window, staring toward SilverCrest territory. "The Old Blood call. My daughter is using the ancient frequency."

"Impossible," his Beta argued. "That art was lost generations ago."

"Not lost," Coleman corrected, his hands curling into fists. "Forgotten by most. But Sylvia remembers."

He turned to face his council, his decision already made. "Gather the Iron Guard. We ride at dawn."

"Alpha, the territorial treaty—" someone began.

"Means nothing if my daughter is in danger," Coleman roared. "Tobias lied to us. There was no natural death."

His eyes glowed with Alpha power as he summoned his elite warriors. "Prepare for war."