My Alpha Let His Luna Poison Our Baby

The Omega quarters were silent, save for the dripping of a leaky pipe in the corner. I sat on the edge of the cot, my fingers trembling as I clutched the silver pendant around my neck. It was a simple thing, shaped like a teardrop, but it was heavy with the weight of two lives. My father’s and brother’s ashes rested inside.

Preston thought he had broken me. He thought that by stripping my rank and letting his mistress poison our child, he had reduced me to nothing more than a obedient vessel waiting to be refilled. He was wrong. He hadn't broken me; he had sharpened me.

I reached under the loose floorboard beneath the bed, retrieving the emergency comms device I had stashed there years ago. It was old tech, untraceable by the pack’s modern security grid. My father had taught me the frequency when I was just a pup, a direct line to the Royal Council reserved for catastrophic emergencies.

My thumb hovered over the transmit button. Vex was gone—silent in the tomb of my mind. I was human, weak, and recovering from a poisoning that should have killed me. If I stayed, I would die. If I ran without protection, Preston would hunt me down and drag me back by my hair.

I keyed in the code. *Sanguis Debitum.* Blood Debt.

I didn't ask for rescue. I didn't ask for pity. I typed two words: *Request Severance.*

The response came three minutes later, a single set of coordinates blinking on the tiny screen. The border. Tonight.

A storm was brewing outside, the sky turning the color of a fresh bruise. It was perfect. The rain would mask my scent—or lack thereof—and the thunder would cover the sound of my boots on the mud. I slipped out the window, moving with the muscle memory of a Lead Warrior. My body screamed in protest, my abdomen aching with a hollow, cramping pain, but I forced my legs to move.

The forest was a chaotic mess of wind and rain. Branches whipped against my face, stinging my skin, but I didn't flinch. I reached the northern border marker, a towering oak tree that marked the edge of Silverclaw land.

A figure stepped out from the shadows of the tree line. He was massive, his shoulders broad enough to block out the lightning. He wore the black tactical gear of the Royal Guard, the silver insignia of the Lycan King gleaming on his chest.

Commander Thorne.

"Natalie Fox," he rumbled, his voice cutting through the storm. He didn't look at me with pity, but with a cold, assessing stare. "The King received your signal. You invoke the debt of Malik and Kylan."

"I do," I said, my voice steady despite the shivering of my body. I pulled the medical report I had swiped from the Healer’s trash on my way out—the one Sarah had tried to hide. I held it out to him. "Wolfsbane poisoning. Administered by the Alpha’s chosen mate. Covered up by the Alpha himself. He used the Alpha Command to enslave me."

Thorne took the paper, sheltering it from the rain. He scanned it quickly, his expression darkening. In our world, harming a pup was a crime. Using wolfsbane on a pack member was treason.

"The King honors the sacrifice of your bloodline," Thorne said, looking back at me. "He is willing to grant the Decree of Severance. It will dissolve your bond to Silverclaw. You will be Rogue, but under Royal protection. No Alpha can command you."

He stepped closer, his golden eyes narrowing. "But know this, girl. If you take this decree, you become a threat to the hierarchy. Every traditionalist Alpha will see you as a destabilizing element. You will be free, but you will be hunted."

"I'm already hunted," I replied, the rain plastering my hair to my skull. "I'd rather be hunted as a free woman than kept as a breeding slave."

Thorne nodded slowly, a flicker of respect crossing his face. "Very well. The Decree will be ready at dawn. Do not be late."

He vanished into the trees as quickly as he had appeared.

I made my way back to the Pack House, the adrenaline beginning to fade, leaving behind a cold, hard resolve. I crept back into the Omega quarters, but I didn't stay. I went to the weapons locker in the basement, using an old override code to bypass the lock. I didn't take much. Two silver-coated daggers. A combat knife. And the pendant around my neck.

I was heading back toward the servants' exit when I turned a corner and nearly collided with a figure in a silk robe.

Isabelle.

She jumped back, clutching her chest. When she realized it was me, her shock melted into a smug, oily smile. She looked me up and down, taking in my wet clothes and the mud on my boots.

"Wandering around in the dark, Natalie?" she cooed. "I hope you're not trying to leave. Preston would be so... disappointed."

She took a step closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Did you enjoy the tonic? I heard it was quite effective."

The rage that should have exploded in my chest was absent. In its place was a glacier. I looked at her—really looked at her—and saw nothing but a petty, insecure child playing with matches.

"You think you've won," I said softly. My voice was devoid of emotion, flat and dead.

Isabelle’s smile faltered. She expected screaming. She expected tears. She didn't know what to do with the void staring back at her.

"I have won," she snapped, crossing her arms. "I'm the Luna. You're the help."

I stepped past her, my shoulder brushing hers. I leaned in close to her ear.

"Enjoy your ceremony tomorrow, Isabelle," I whispered. "You didn't just kill my pup. You sealed your own fate."

I walked away down the dark corridor, leaving her standing there in the silence, shivering as if she had just felt a ghost pass through her.