My Alpha Rejected Me to Claim My Pregnant Sister

The bond broke at exactly 10:47 PM, under a full moon that felt like mockery.

I stood at the altar with Kashton's mark still warm on my neck and our pup heavy inside me—seven months of weight pressing against my ribs. My hand rested on the swell of my belly. The entire Ironveil Pack surrounded us in a half-circle, their eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight, waiting for the blessing ceremony that would protect our child.

Kashton turned to face me. His jaw was set. His eyes didn't meet mine.

"I, Kashton, Alpha of Ironveil," he said, voice carrying across the ceremonial ground, "reject you, Eliza, as my mate and Luna."

The mark on my neck went ice-cold first. Then it cracked.

I felt it split like glass under pressure—a hairline fracture that burned and froze at the same time. My knees buckled. The bond tore somewhere deep inside my chest, a door slamming shut in an empty room, and the shock of it punched straight through to my womb. Something twisted. Something tore. I pressed both hands against my belly and tried to breathe, but my vision whited out at the edges.

I didn't scream. I couldn't.

Kashton's voice kept going, smooth and rehearsed, like he'd practiced this. "Zaria was attacked by a rogue at the border tavern two weeks ago. Her wolf is traumatized. Her pup is at risk. She needs the protection of the Luna bond to survive."

I blinked through the white haze and saw her.

Zaria stood at the altar's edge in a white gown—my sister, glowing under the moonlight, one hand resting on her own rounded belly. She met my eyes and smiled.

Kashton stepped toward her. He didn't hesitate. He sank his teeth into her neck, right there in front of the entire pack, and marked her.

Their scents erupted into the air—his pine and smoke, her sickly-sweet vanilla—twisting together, visible like heat shimmers in the moonlight. The pack inhaled sharply. Zaria tilted her head back, gasping, her fingers digging into Kashton's shoulders.

I tried to step back. My body wouldn't move.

Zaria turned to me, still in Kashton's arms, her new mark glistening red and fresh. She looked me up and down—my swollen belly, my cracked mark, my shaking hands—and her smile widened.

Then she shoved me.

I crashed off the ceremonial platform onto the stone floor below. My shoulder hit first, then my hip, then my head cracked against the ground. Blood pooled beneath me instantly, hot and slick, spreading across the cold stone. My body convulsed. The bond-severance shock rolled through me in waves, tearing at something inside my womb that I couldn't protect.

I pressed one hand flat against the stone and tried to breathe.

The pack stood frozen. No one moved.

Kashton lifted Zaria into his arms. She buried her face against his chest, fake tears streaming down her cheeks, sobbing about how sorry she was, how she never wanted this, how the rogue had ruined everything.

"No one touch her," Kashton said over his shoulder, voice flat. "She is no longer your Luna."

He carried Zaria toward the pack house. The crowd parted for them.

I lay on the stone floor, alone, blood pooling around my hips, my mark cracked black across my neck. My pup was dying inside me. I could feel it—the way the bond-severance had torn through both of us, the way my body was shutting down, the way there was nothing left to hold on to.

I didn't beg. I didn't call his name.

I pressed both hands against my belly and tried to breathe.

Footsteps pounded across the stone. Someone dropped to their knees beside me—Maren, the pack healer, her face pale and furious. She barked orders at two junior healers hovering at the edge of the crowd. They hesitated, glancing toward the pack house where Kashton had disappeared.

"Now!" Maren snapped.

They ran forward and helped her lift me. My head lolled back. The moon blurred above me, too bright, too cold. Maren's hands pressed against my stomach, trying to slow the hemorrhaging, but I could feel it—the way my body was coming apart, the way the biological shock of a severed bond mid-pregnancy was tearing through muscle and bone and blood.

"Stay with me," Maren whispered, her voice shaking. "Stay with me, Eliza."

I tried. I did.

But the last thing I felt before my vision went black was the faint flicker of something else—something deep beneath my skin, like a presence stirring for the first time, ancient and furious and silver-bright.

And then nothing.

Miles away, at the eastern border of Ironveil territory, two guards stood at their post. One of them frowned, lifting his head.

"You feel that?" he asked.

The other guard nodded slowly. "Like... pressure. Lifting."

They exchanged a look in the dark. The air around them felt different—thinner, exposed, like a shield had just flickered and failed to come back.

Neither of them knew what it meant.

Not yet.