My Alpha Rejected Me While I Gave Birth

At 4:12 a.m., exactly five days before my due date, I shoved open the heavy timber door of the Cascade cabin with my bleeding shoulder.

I expected rogue wolves. I expected blood on the floor and my mate fighting for his life.

Instead, warm air hit my face. It smelled of crackling pine, expensive aged bourbon, and Carly Fisher’s heavy vanilla perfume.

Less than an hour ago, Beta Wesley’s emergency mind-link had exploded against my skull like shrapnel. *Luna, rogues ambushed the Alpha on the mountain pass. They want the emergency silver reserves before dawn. You have to bring them alone, or Derek dies.*

I hadn’t hesitated. Contractions were already cramping across my lower back, sharp and tight, but I had dragged sixty-pound crates of pure silver into the flatbed truck with my bare hands. I tore the skin off both palms. I drove up the icy switchbacks through a blinding blizzard, one hand gripping the wheel while the other cradled my swollen belly.

*Hang on, sweet girl,* I had whispered aloud over the rattle of the engine. *We’re bringing Daddy home.*

My inner wolf had been silent the entire drive, half-asleep from three years of me choking her down so Derek’s fragile Alpha ego wouldn't feel eclipsed.

Now, standing in the doorway, the reality in front of me turned my blood to ice.

There was no blood. There were no rogues.

Derek was sprawled on an oversized leather sofa, his boots propped on the coffee table and a lowball glass of whiskey in his hand. Curled by his knees in an emerald silk robe was Carly, her freshly manicured fingers resting casually against the denim of his inner thigh. In the corner by the stone hearth sat four crates, identical to the ones I had nearly broken my back loading into the truck.

Derek glanced toward the door, taking a slow sip. He didn’t drop his feet. He just smirked.

"See that, Car?" Derek chuckled, his voice thick with liquor. "Told you she’d make the drive."

Carly threw her head back and laughed, the silk slipping off her bare shoulder. "Four hours through a Cascade blizzard at nine months pregnant? You win the bet, Alpha. She really is a good little Luna."

A bet.

The words hit my chest like lead shot. My knuckles throbbed where the skin was ripped open, dripping dark red drops onto the floorboards.

Derek had staged his own kidnapping. He had made his pregnant mate haul silver through a mountain storm on an icy road just to prove to his childhood friend that he owned me.

A fierce, tearing spasm ripped through my lower abdomen, lasting two agonizing seconds before settling into a deep, burning ache. I didn't cry. I didn't drop to my knees.

Beneath my ribs, something shifted. The wolf I had starved and silenced for three long years suddenly opened her eyes. She didn’t cower. She barred her silver fangs, a low, vibrating snarl ripping through my chest so hard my collarbones shook.

"A bet," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but it was flat and cold enough to cut glass.

Derek’s smirk faded just a fraction. He swung his boots off the table and stood up, puffing out his chest. "Relax, Isabelle. It was a loyalty test. You passed. Now where’s the master keycard for the silver reserves in your truck? Marcus needs the transfer verified before sunrise."

Marcus Voss. The Alpha of the Nighthollow Pack. Carly’s secret backer.

Derek thought he was playing a high-stakes political game, using pack silver to buy favor. And he thought I was going to hand over the keys to Ironvale's survival like an obedient servant.

He took a step toward me, his hand held out. "Give it here."

I looked him straight in the eyes. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the titanium master card—the only key in the territory coded to the Luna's biological signature, the only thing that could unlock the magnetic seals on those crates.

"Isabelle," Derek barked, pushing a thread of Alpha command into his tone. "Hand it over."

The command pressed against my skull, but my awakened wolf snapped the pressure in half.

I didn't hand it over. Instead, I pressed my bloody thumb hard against the emergency override chip, permanently locking Ironvale's reserves to my unique bloodline. Then, with a clean flick of my wrist, I slammed the card against the iron corner of the door hinge.

It snapped in two with a sharp, plastic crack. Sparks hissed in my palm, dead.

"Try buying your border territory now," I said.

Derek’s face went dark purple with rage. "You stupid bitch—"

He took a violent stride toward me, his hand raised.

Instinct made me step backward. My snow-caked boot caught the rough wooden lip of the threshold.

My balance vanished. My heel slammed down hard against the planking, jarring my spine, and an explosion of heat burst between my hips.

A heavy, warm gush of fluid soaked straight through my jeans, splashing across my boots and pooling out over the cabin floor.

My water had broken.

The shock froze Derek mid-stride. But on the couch, Carly’s eyes flashed with venomous delight. She stood up smoothly, reaching deep into the pocket of her silk robe.

When her hand came out, she was holding a thick coil of coarse rope, coated in a fine, sickly yellow powder that smelled faintly of rotten almonds.

Wolfsbane.

Carly stepped up beside Derek, her voice dripping with venom. "Looks like you need a new Luna tonight, Alpha. Say the words."

Derek set his whiskey glass on the mantle, looked down at where I stood clutching the doorframe, and opened his mouth.

"I, Derek Vance, Alpha of the Ironvale Pack—"