My Alpha Took My Son

Dr. Chen arrived the morning after the garden party. I heard his voice downstairs, low and professional, discussing me like I was a case file instead of a person.

Levi brought him to our bedroom. I was still in my nightgown, hadn't bothered to dress. What was the point?

"Arya," Dr. Chen said, setting his medical bag on the dresser. "Levi tells me you've been having episodes. Paranoia. Violent outbursts."

"I'm not paranoid," I said. My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"She attacked our nanny," Levi said from the doorway. "Unprovoked. In front of the entire household staff."

That wasn't what happened. But the words died in my throat.

Dr. Chen pulled out a penlight, checked my pupils. Asked me questions I couldn't focus on. The whole time, Levi stood there watching, his arms crossed, his expression carved from stone.

"Post-partum psychosis," Dr. Chen finally said. "Combined with delusional paranoia stemming from past trauma. It's not uncommon in Omegas with her history."

"No," I whispered. "That's not—"

"The treatment is rest and medication," Dr. Chen continued, like I hadn't spoken. "Complete bed rest. No stress. No responsibilities."

He pulled a syringe from his bag.

I tried to stand. Levi's hand landed on my shoulder, heavy and immovable. "This is for your own good, Arya."

The needle slid into my arm. Cold spread through my veins, pulling me down into cotton-thick darkness.

I woke to shadows.

The room was dim, curtains drawn. My head felt stuffed with wool. My limbs were lead. I tried to sit up and the world tilted sideways.

Then I saw her.

Kehlani sat in the chair beside my bed, her hands folded in her lap. She looked like a painting—serene, beautiful, patient.

"You're awake," she said.

I tried to speak. My tongue was thick, clumsy.

She leaned forward, and her expression changed. The sweetness drained away, replaced by something cold and sharp.

Her voice slid into my mind like a knife. *Can you hear me, Arya?*

The mind-link. She had pack access. Levi had given her pack access.

*Surprised?* Her smile widened. *He trusts me. More than he trusts you, anyway.*

I tried to push her out, tried to slam the mental door shut. But the sedative made everything slow, sluggish.

*My father used to talk about you,* she continued, her voice a poisonous whisper in my skull. *The little wolf in cage seven. He said you cried every night. Said you begged.*

Cage seven. The one in the corner, where the roof leaked and the cold seeped through the bars.

*He was so proud of that sale. Got top dollar for you.* She tilted her head, studying me like I was an insect pinned to a board. *And now look at you. Right back in a cage. Funny how that works.*

"Get out," I managed to rasp.

*Oh, I don't think so.* She stood, smoothed her skirt. *See, I'm Leo's nanny now. Levi put me in charge of his schedule. His feeding times. His playtime. Everything.*

My heart lurched. Leo.

*And you know what happens to pups when their mothers are unstable?* Her mental voice dropped to a whisper. *Accidents. Terrible, tragic accidents. A moment of inattention. A door left open. Stairs are so dangerous for little ones.*

I tried to lunge at her. My body wouldn't respond. The sedative held me pinned.

*Stay in bed, Arya. Be a good little Omega. Or I'll make sure you never see your son again.*

She left. The door clicked shut behind her.

I lay there, shaking, tears sliding hot down my temples.

Two days passed in a drugged haze. They brought me pills. I pretended to swallow them, tucked them under my tongue, spit them out when they left.

Slowly, the fog lifted.

On the third day, I heard Levi's voice in the hallway. "Border patrol. I'll be back by nightfall."

I waited until the house went quiet. Until I heard the SUVs pull away.

Then I got up.

My legs shook. The hallway swayed. But I made it to the stairs. Made it to Levi's study.

The door was unlocked. Arrogant. He thought I was too broken to be a threat.

The study was exactly as I remembered—dark wood, leather chairs, that portrait on the wall. The woman in the white dress with lace sleeves. His dead mate.

I stared at her face. At the way she tilted her chin. The exact angle Kehlani used.

My hands found the frame's edge. I pulled.

The portrait swung open on hidden hinges.

Behind it was a safe.

I tried Leo's birthday. Nothing. Tried the pack's founding date. Nothing.

Then, on instinct, I tried the date on the portrait's brass plate. The day his mate died.

The safe clicked open.

Inside was a single file folder. Thick. Well-worn.

The label read: *Project Rescue.*

I pulled it out with shaking hands.

The first page was a photograph. A man and woman standing outside a massive stone building—a Lycan stronghold, judging by the architecture. The man had a cane, his posture bent with old injuries. The woman stood beside him, her hand on his arm, her face etched with grief.

They were searching for someone.

I flipped to the next page. More photos. The same couple in different territories. Different cities. Always searching.

Then I saw the DNA report.

My name at the top. Their names below.

*Marcus Evans. Elena Evans.*

*Genetic match: 99.9% probability of biological parentage.*

*Date of analysis: Three years ago.*

Three years.

Levi had known for three years that I had family. That I had parents who were looking for me.

High-ranking Lycan nobility, according to the notes. Beta to the King and Queen themselves.

And he'd hidden it.

Kept me here. Kept me weak. Kept me his.

The folder slipped from my hands, pages scattering across the floor.

I sank to my knees among the evidence of his lies, and for the first time in ten years, my wolf didn't whimper.

She growled.