My Alpha Stole My Wolf to Control Me Forever

The lockpick felt foreign in my fingers after seven years.

I'd found it wedged in the lining of my old warrior kit—the duffel bag Jonah had shoved in the back of our closet like it was something shameful. My hands shook as I worked the mechanism, listening to the shower run in the bathroom. Steam crept under the door. Jonah was singing. Actually singing, like he hadn't just told me he was going to force himself on me.

The lock clicked.

I didn't breathe until I was in the hallway. My chair's motor hummed too loud in the silence, but I couldn't stop. Couldn't think. Just had to move.

The pack house was empty—everyone still at the Summit, probably gossiping about the mind-link disaster. Good. I made it to the service elevator, then through the kitchen, out the back entrance. The night air hit my face, cool and sharp.

Freedom was fifty yards away. The pack border, marked by ancient stones that glowed faintly under the moon.

I was twenty yards out when Elder Marcus stepped from the shadows.

"Going somewhere, Miss Snyder?"

Miss. Not Luna. Never Luna.

"I'm leaving." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Jonah's been unfaithful. I have grounds—"

"Grounds?" Marcus's laugh was dry as old bones. He moved closer, and I saw the pity in his eyes. Pity mixed with something worse. Satisfaction. "You have no grounds for anything, girl. You were never marked."

The words hit like a physical blow.

"We've been together seven years—"

"Together, yes. Mated, no." He pulled a scroll from his coat. Pack law, written in the old script. "Without the Alpha's mark, you have no legal status. No claim to pack lands, no protection under pack law. You're not his Luna. You're not even officially his mate."

I stared at the scroll. At the words that might as well have been a death sentence.

"So I can just leave."

"Cross that border, and you'll be designated a rogue." Marcus's voice went cold. "Rogues are hunted, Miss Snyder. Killed on sight by any pack that finds them. Is that what you want? To die alone in the woods?"

My hands gripped the wheelchair arms. "Better than staying here."

"Is it?" He stepped closer. "You're wolfless. Crippled. How long do you think you'd last out there?"

I wanted to scream. To rage. To shift into my wolf and tear his throat out.

But I couldn't shift. Couldn't even stand.

Seven years of believing I had a place here. Seven years of thinking I mattered.

All lies.

"Go back to the Alpha's quarters," Marcus said. "Be grateful he's willing to keep you."

I turned my chair around. Not because I wanted to. Because I had no choice.

Jonah was waiting in the hallway when I returned, hair still damp from the shower. He smiled.

"There you are. I was worried."

I said nothing.

He didn't seem to notice.

***

The Moon Goddess Festival was the next night. Jonah insisted I attend.

"We need to show unity," he said, adjusting his ceremonial robes in the mirror. "Quell the rumors."

"I'm not going."

His hand shot out, gripping my chin. Not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to make his point. "You are. And you'll smile. Understand?"

I understood plenty.

The festival grounds were packed. Hundreds of wolves from allied packs, all dressed in white to honor the Moon Goddess. Lanterns floated overhead, casting everything in soft golden light. It should've been beautiful.

It felt like a funeral.

Jonah kept his hand on my shoulder as we moved through the crowd, his touch possessive. Claiming. People stared. Whispered. I caught fragments of conversation.

"—heard the mind-link—"

"—poor thing—"

"—should've left him—"

The opening ceremony began at midnight. We stood at the front, Jonah beside the other Alphas, me in my chair slightly behind. The High Priestess raised her arms, calling for the Moon Goddess's blessing.

"Join hands with your mates," she intoned. "Show your bonds before the Goddess."

Jonah reached for my hand.

I pulled away.

His jaw tightened. "Halle."

"No."

Something shifted in his eyes. Something dark and dangerous.

"I said," his voice dropped to that Alpha tone, the one that made wolves submit, "give me your hand."

I kept my hands in my lap.

The air changed. Pressure built around me, thick and suffocating. Jonah's Alpha Aura, unleashed in full force. It crashed over me like a wave, and I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.

My wolf should've risen to meet it. Should've pushed back.

But I had no wolf.

The pressure increased. My chest compressed. Something in my arm snapped with a sound like a breaking branch, and pain exploded through me. I gasped, tried to scream, but no air would come.

Blood filled my mouth. Internal bleeding, some distant part of my brain recognized.

I was dying.

The last thing I saw before darkness took me was Jonah's face, twisted with rage, and the horrified expressions of the crowd.

Then nothing.

***

I woke to white walls and the smell of antiseptic. The Healer's ward. My arm was in a cast, and breathing hurt like hell.

Footsteps. Soft, hesitant.

Briana appeared in the doorway, her face pale and drawn.

"You shouldn't be here," I managed.

"I know." She moved closer, glancing over her shoulder. "But you need to see this."

She pulled a small leather book from her jacket. Set it on my lap.

"I found it in Jonah's desk. I was looking for—it doesn't matter. Just look."

I opened it with my good hand. Page after page of dates, dosages, notes written in Jonah's precise handwriting.

Wolfsbane Type-B. 2.5mg daily. Subject: H.S.

My medicine. The pills he'd given me every morning for seven years, telling me they'd help with the pain.

More entries. Increased dosage. Wolf remains dormant. Muscle atrophy progressing as expected.

As expected.

The room spun.

"He poisoned you," Briana whispered. "The attack didn't take your wolf. He did."

I stared at the logbook, at seven years of calculated cruelty written in neat columns.

And something inside me finally broke free.