He Killed Our Pup and Gave Me to His Enemy

The world was a blur of gray asphalt and passing trees, but the only thing I could feel was the hollow, aching void inside me. My hands rested instinctively on my flat stomach, shielding a life that was already gone. Roman hadn’t just taken my dignity or my freedom; he had carved out my heart and left me breathing.

I sat in the back of the black SUV, sandwiched between two burly Blood Moon enforcers who looked at me with nothing but disdain. To them, I wasn’t a pack member anymore. I was a failed experiment. A disposable asset being shipped off to balance a ledger.

"Stop crying," the enforcer on my left grunted, though I hadn't made a sound. The tears had dried up hours ago, leaving my face tight and crusted with salt. "You should be grateful Alpha Roman let you live. Most Omegas who carry a bastard pup get exiled to the Rogue lands."

*Bastard pup.* The words were like a physical slap. It was Roman’s pup. It was his blood. But history is written by the powerful, and I was nobody.

The scenery outside changed. The familiar, open woodlands of Blood Moon territory gave way to dense, suffocating forests. The trees here were ancient, their twisted branches knitting together overhead to block out the weak afternoon sun. A thick fog curled around the tires as we crossed the border into Shadowfang territory. The air grew colder, heavier. Even the enforcers shifted uncomfortably, their arrogant scents turning sour with fear.

We were entering the domain of the Feral Blind Alpha.

The car jerked to a halt in front of a massive stone structure that looked more like a fortress than a pack house. It was built of dark, jagged stone, looming against the gray sky like a sleeping beast. There were no welcoming committees, no flowers, no flags. Just silence.

"Get out," the driver barked, unlocking the doors.

My legs trembled as I stepped onto the gravel. I was weak, physically drained from the procedure and the sedatives that still fogged my mind. I stumbled, and the enforcer grabbed my arm—not to steady me, but to yank me forward. He reached for my neck and roughly unclasped the thin silver chain that held the Blood Moon crest.

"No pack markers," he sneered, pocketing the necklace. "You belong to the monster now."

They marched me up the stone steps. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, apparently of their own accord, revealing a cavernous main hall shrouded in shadows. The air inside smelled of damp earth, pine, and something metallic—like old blood.

At the far end of the hall, sitting in a high-backed chair carved from obsidian, was a man.

Rafael Lawrence.

He didn't move as we entered. He was terrifyingly still. Even sitting down, his size was intimidating, his shoulders broad and powerful under a black shirt. His dark hair fell over his forehead, partially obscuring the thick, jagged scars that ran vertically across both his eyes. He wore dark glasses, but I could feel the intensity of his gaze despite the blindness. A palpable wave of power rolled off him—dark, volatile, and suffocating. It felt like standing next to a live wire.

The Blood Moon enforcers stopped twenty feet away, terrified to go closer. They shoved me forward so hard I fell to my knees on the cold stone floor. A gasp of pain escaped my lips as the impact jarred my sore body.

"Alpha Lawrence," the lead enforcer called out, his voice wavering slightly. "We bring you the tribute from Alpha King. Alessia Rogers of the Silver Claw, as promised."

Silence stretched, taut as a bowstring.

Then, Rafael moved. He leaned forward, his head tilting to the side. He inhaled deeply, the sound sharp in the quiet hall. I braced myself for death. I waited for him to smell the deception, to smell the Omega blood, to tear me apart for the insult.

But he didn't attack.

His nostrils flared again. A low rumble started in his chest—a growl, but it wasn't the sound of a killer. It was... confused. Intrigued.

"That is not the scent of Alessia Rogers," Rafael said. His voice was a deep baritone, rough like gravel grinding together. It vibrated through the floorboards and into my bones. "Alessia reeks of synthetic roses and ambition."

He stood up, his movements fluid and predatory. The air around him shimmered, the shadow of a massive black wolf flickering behind him in the ether. "This scent..."

He took a step toward me. The Blood Moon enforcers took a step back, hands hovering over their weapons.

"Vanilla," Rafael murmured, taking another step. "Wildflowers. And... grief."

He paused, his head cocking toward the enforcers. His lip curled, revealing elongated canines. "Why does she smell of fresh blood and sorrow? Why is her heartbeat fluttering like a dying bird?"

"She... she is tired from the journey," the enforcer lied, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Liar!" Rafael roared. The sound was so loud it shook dust from the rafters. His aura exploded outward, a physical force that slammed into the enforcers, sending them stumbling back toward the door. "You bring a wounded creature into my home? You drop a broken wolf at my feet and call her a prize?"

" we—we were just following orders!" the enforcer stammered, abandoning all pretense of bravery. "She's yours now!"

"Get out," Rafael snarled, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Before I paint these walls with your entrails."

The enforcers didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled backward, tripping over their own feet, and fled out the heavy doors, slamming them shut behind them. The sound echoed like a gunshot, sealing my fate.

Silence returned, heavier than before. I was alone with the monster.

I couldn't stop shaking. I pressed my forehead against the cold stone floor, waiting for the end. I was too weak to run, too broken to fight.

I heard his footsteps approach. heavy, deliberate. They stopped right in front of me. I could smell him now—rain, ozone, and deep, dark forest. It was terrifying, yet strangely... anchoring. My inner wolf, usually cowering in fear, lifted her head. She didn't whine. She didn't panic. She let out a soft, mournful sigh.

Rafael crouched down. I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Look at me," he commanded. It wasn't a shout, but the Alpha authority was undeniable.

Slowly, trembling, I lifted my head. He had removed his dark glasses. The scars were brutal, slashing through milky, unseeing eyes that swirled with flecks of silver. But his face wasn't twisted in rage. It was etched with a deep, furrowed frown.

He reached out a hand. I held my breath. His fingers, calloused and warm, hovered near my face before gently grazing my cheek. He was tracking my tears.

"You are not Alessia," he stated simply. The volatile energy in the room began to settle, his beast soothing under the influence of my scent. "Who are you, little wolf? And who hurt you?"