My Alpha Stole Our Daughter’s Cure

The northern woods had no moonlight. Just shadow on shadow, and Selah's fever burning through my shirt like a brand.

I stopped every few hundred meters to check her breathing. In. Out. In. Shallower than before. The wolfsbane veins had crawled up her neck now, dark purple lines threading under her jaw like roots seeking water. Her wooden wolf toy hung loose in her fingers.

"Mama," she whispered. "Cold."

She was burning. I pressed my lips to her forehead and lied. "Almost there, baby. Just a little further."

I didn't know where 'there' was. I just knew I had to keep moving north. The pull had always been there — faint, unexplained, a compass needle I'd ignored for three years because good Lunas didn't question their territory. But tonight, with the ward collapsed and my daughter dying in my arms, I followed it. My wolf pressed against my ribs. Not a single slam anymore. A continuous low growl, steady and insistent, like she was trying to guide me through the dark.

I'd never felt her this awake before.

The trees thinned ahead. I could see the ridge line, the place where Shadowvale's woods gave way to unclaimed territory. Just a little further. Just —

A branch snapped behind me.

I spun. Three wolves materialized from the shadows in perfect flanking formation, cutting off every lateral escape route. Big. Gamma-ranked. Their eyes caught the starlight and threw it back cold.

My heart kicked into my throat. I backed toward the ravine edge, one arm locked around Selah, the other hand spread in front of me like it could stop them.

The center wolf shifted. Bones cracked, fur receded, and Marcus Reyes straightened to his full height. He was bare-chested, steam rising off his skin in the cold air. He didn't look happy.

"Luna." His voice was quiet. Almost apologetic. "You need to come back to the pack house."

"No." I took another step back. Gravel skittered over the ravine edge. "I'm not going back."

"Alpha's orders." Marcus's jaw tightened. "I don't have a choice."

"He stole her medicine." My voice cracked. "He used his Alpha tone to take the only thing keeping her alive and gave it to his mistress. Look at her, Marcus. *Look at her.*"

I shifted Selah slightly so he could see. The wolfsbane veins. The fever flush. The way her chest barely moved.

Marcus's eyes flicked down. His nostrils flared — wolves could smell sickness, could smell poison — and something dark crossed his face. Disturbed. Maybe even horrified.

But he didn't move.

"Dalton dual-marked another wolf," I said, desperation sharpening my words into weapons. "He's been with Lilia for months. He violated pack law. He condemned his own daughter. You know this is wrong."

"I know." Marcus's voice dropped. "But the command holds, Luna. I can't —"

He stepped forward.

I backed up fast. My heel hit air. The ravine edge crumbled under my weight and I staggered, clutching Selah so tight she whimpered. The two Gamma wolves behind Marcus growled low, a sound that vibrated through the ground.

"Please." I hated the word. Hated how small it sounded. "Please, Marcus. She's dying."

"Then let me take you to the healer —"

"There's no antidote left!" I screamed it. "He gave it away! She has hours, maybe less, and if I go back Lilia will make sure I never leave again. You know that. You *know* that."

Marcus hesitated. Just a flicker. Just a second where his warrior's mask slipped and I saw the man underneath — the man who had a daughter of his own, who had stood honor guard at Selah's naming ceremony, who *knew.*

But the Alpha command was a chain around his throat, and I watched him reach for it, watched him pull it tight.

"I'm sorry, Luna," he said quietly. "But I have my orders."

He took another step.

I was out of ground. Out of options. The ravine yawned behind me, a twenty-foot drop into rocks and roots and darkness. Selah's breath rattled against my collarbone.

My wolf surged. Not a growl this time. A *roar.* Silent, internal, a sound only I could hear — but it hit me so hard my knees buckled. She was screaming at me to *move,* to *fight,* to do *something* —

I threw my head back and screamed through the mate bond.

*Dalton. DALTON. Please. They're going to kill us. Please —*

Nothing.

The bond was a dark, empty room. No answer. No flicker. Not even the ghost of acknowledgment.

And then — faint, distant, filtered through a phone speaker I shouldn't be able to hear from this far away — Lilia's voice drifted through the bond like smoke.

"Is that her?" Laughter. Light. Delighted. "Oh, Dalton, she sounds *terrified.*"

A rustle. The sound of fabric shifting. Dalton's voice, low and distracted: "Leave it."

"But it's so *fun* —"

The line went dead.

Something inside me snapped.

Not broke. Snapped. Clean. Final. The sound a rope makes when it's been fraying for years and finally gives.

Marcus was three steps away now. The Gamma wolves flanked him, teeth bared. I was cornered against the ravine with my dying daughter in my arms and my mate's mistress laughing in my head.

I looked at Marcus. I looked at the wolves. I looked at the dark forest that had been my prison for three years.

And I made a choice.

I stepped backward off the edge.