My Alpha Let His Luna Poison Our Baby

The morning of the Mating Ceremony dawned with a sky the color of a fresh bruise. The Silverclaw Pack House was a hive of frantic activity, smelling of roasted meats, expensive perfumes, and the underlying, acidic tang of anxiety. To everyone else, this was the union of the century. To me, it was a funeral.

I stood in the shadows of the basement armory, stripping off the gray rags of an Omega. My hands didn't shake. The grief over my lost pup had calcified into something cold and sharp in my chest, a weapon far more dangerous than the steel I was about to wield.

I pulled on my old warrior leathers. They were tight—my body was still swollen and tender from the miscarriage—but the familiar weight of the reinforced leather felt like a hug from an old friend. I strapped my combat boots tight, checking the hidden sheath in the left boot.

Inside, I slid a dagger coated in my own blood. It was an old rogue superstition my father had told me about once: *carry your own life force to mask your scent from the ones who hunt you.* I didn't know if it worked, but I needed every edge I could get. In my belt, I tucked a silver spike, its tip gleaming with lethal promise.

"Goodbye, Silverclaw," I whispered to the damp stone walls.

Upstairs, the music started. A heavy, rhythmic drumbeat that signaled the Alpha’s entrance. That was my cue.

I moved through the service corridors like a ghost. Two Delta guards were stationed at the rear exit, laughing about the feast to come. They were young, sloppy, and completely unprepared for a Lead Warrior with nothing left to lose.

I didn't kill them. I wasn't a monster. I slipped behind the first one, applying a sleeper hold that dropped him in seconds. The second one turned, eyes widening, but I was already moving. A swift kick to the knee followed by a strike to the temple, and he joined his friend on the floor.

I pushed the heavy door open and sprinted into the treeline.

The forest air hit me like a slap—cold, wet, and smelling of freedom. I ran. My body screamed in protest, the phantom pain in my womb flaring with every stride, but I pushed through it. I wasn't running away; I was running toward myself.

Back in the Great Hall, Preston stood at the altar. I could feel him through the tattered remnants of our bond. He was agitated, his soul scratching against mine. He was about to mark Isabelle. He was about to make it permanent.

*Do it,* I thought bitterly. *Mark her and let me go.*

But then, a roar shattered the air.

It wasn't a human shout. It was a primal, earth-shaking howl of pure fury. Preston’s wolf. He had sensed it. He sensed the distance growing between us, the finality of my departure.

The connection in my mind flared hot. *Mine!* his voice echoed in my skull, not spoken, but felt. *Where are you?*

I didn't answer. I ran harder, my boots tearing up the mossy earth.

Behind me, the heavy thud of paws hit the ground. He had shifted. He had abandoned his bride at the altar to hunt down the mate he had rejected. The irony would have been funny if I wasn't fighting for my life.

I knew these woods. My father had taught me every ravine, every hollow log, every hidden path. I didn't take the straight route to the border river. I zigzagged through the briar patches, vaulting over fallen trees that I knew would force a massive wolf to slow down. I snapped low-hanging branches as I passed, creating obstacles that would whip back into a pursuer’s face.

But he was fast. Alpha fast.

The ground trembled. I could hear the snapping of timber behind me, the heavy panting of a beast closing in. He was burning through his energy, driven by instinct.

The river was ahead—the boundary line. Once I crossed that water, I was in neutral territory. I was rogue.

My lungs burned. My legs felt like lead. I burst through the final line of trees, the sound of rushing water filling my ears.

I didn't make it.

A massive black shape exploded from the brush to my right, cutting off my path. Preston.

He was enormous, a nightmare of muscle and fur, his golden eyes blazing with madness. He skidded to a halt, blocking the bridge, his lips pulled back to reveal teeth that could snap a femur like a twig. He growled, a low rumble that vibrated in my chest, demanding submission.

Then, the bones cracked and shifted. He stood on two legs, shifting back to human form in seconds. He stood there, naked and heaving, steam rising from his skin in the cold air.

"You do not leave me," Preston snarled, his voice distorted by the Alpha tone. "You belong to this pack. You belong to *me*."

I drew the silver spike, my hand steady. "I belong to no one who poisons their own blood."

Preston took a step forward, his hand outstretched. "Natalie, put the weapon down. You are hysterical. The bond is confusing you."

"The bond is dead!" I screamed, the raw agony of it tearing from my throat. "You killed it when you let her kill our child!"

Leaves crunched behind me. I spun around, keeping Preston in my peripheral vision.

Isabelle stumbled out of the woods, her white wedding dress torn and muddy. Beta Marcus and two enforcers were right behind her. She looked deranged, her hair wild, makeup smeared down her face. In her hand, she gripped a silver dagger, her knuckles white.

"You ruined it!" Isabelle shrieked, pointing the blade at me. "You ruined my day! Why won't you just die?"

I stood between the Alpha who wanted to own me and the Luna who wanted to kill me. The river rushed behind Preston, indifferent to our drama.

"Let her go, Isabelle," Preston commanded, though his eyes never left me. "She is coming back to the cell."

"No!" Isabelle yelled, stepping closer, the silver blade trembling. "She leaves now, Preston! In a body bag!"

I tightened my grip on my weapon. I wasn't going back to a cell. And I certainly wasn't dying in a muddy wedding dress.

"Come and get me," I said softly.