My Mate Let Our Pup Die

The crystal chandelier cast dancing shadows across the mahogany table as I sat with my hands folded neatly in my lap. The visiting dignitaries from the Northern Ridge Pack had arrived an hour ago, their Alpha's booming laugh echoing through the grand dining hall of the Silver Claw Pack House. I kept my eyes lowered, focusing on the intricate pattern of the tablecloth rather than the conversation flowing around me.

My fingers traced the outline of my slightly swollen belly beneath the loose folds of my silk dress. Three months pregnant, and still Greyson insisted I hide it. "It's bad luck to announce a pregnancy before the fourth month," he'd said coldly. "The pack has superstitions to uphold."

I took a shallow breath, feeling Luna stir restlessly within me. My wolf had been growing more agitated lately, sensing my discomfort in this suffocating environment.

"The Crescent Moon Pack was never truly unified," Alpha Donovan's deep voice cut through the silence. "Their so-called alliance was a farce. They were scattered tribes until the 1800s."

I stiffened. No. That was wrong. Completely wrong.

Luna growled softly within me. *He's lying about our pack. Our history.*

I felt my historian's instincts flare to life. My grandmother had taught me the true history of the Crescent Moon Pack, how they had been united for centuries under the guidance of the Moon Goddess.

"Actually," I said softly, my voice barely audible even to my own ears, "the Crescent Moon Pack has been unified since 1472. They were among the first packs to form a formal alliance system."

The room went deathly silent.

Every head turned toward me. I felt the weight of their stares like physical blows.

Greyson's eyes narrowed dangerously. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Anaya," he said, my name sounding like ice on his lips.

I realized my mistake instantly. The Silence During the Alpha's Meal protocol. One of the sacred rules of the Silver Claw Pack.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "but it's historically inaccurate to—"

"Enough."

Greyson's hand slammed down on the table with such force that the crystal glasses jumped. His Alpha aura exploded outward, crushing the air from the room. Several lower-ranking wolves dropped to their knees, gasping for breath.

"My Luna speaks out of turn," he announced to the table, his voice deadly calm. "Please continue your meal while I address this... indiscretion."

His fingers wrapped around my upper arm like a vise as he dragged me from my chair. The visiting Alpha's eyes gleamed with amusement at my public humiliation.

*Don't resist,* Luna warned. *It will only make it worse.*

I followed him silently through the corridors of the Pack House, my heart hammering against my ribs. We reached his study, a room lined with ancient texts on pack law and punishment protocols.

"You embarrassed me," Greyson said, his back to me as he poured himself a whiskey. "In front of visiting dignitaries."

"Alpha, I—"

"Silence." He turned, his eyes flashing with anger. "You have no right to speak unless spoken to. You are Luna by title only until you prove yourself worthy."

I trembled, one hand instinctively moving to protect my stomach. "I was only correcting historical misinformation about my former pack."

"Your former pack means nothing here." Greyson's voice rose. "You belong to Silver Claw now. To me."

He stalked closer, his Alpha aura pressing against me like a physical weight. "You need discipline, Anaya. Constant discipline."

"I'm pregnant," I whispered, desperation making me reckless. "Please consider—"

"A pregnancy is no excuse for disrespect." His hand shot out, gripping my throat. Not hard enough to choke, but enough to remind me of his absolute power over me.

"The Sanctuary," he decided abruptly. "Twenty-four hours. Perhaps then you'll understand your place."

No. Not The Sanctuary. The silver-lined cell designed specifically to weaken wolves.

"Greyson, please," I begged, using his name without title for the first time in months. "My wolf—she needs me—"

"Your wolf needs discipline too." He yanked the silver locket from around my neck—my grandmother's gift, filled with moon-blessed herbs. "And these pagan trinkets have no place in a civilized pack."

With a vicious twist of his hand, he crushed the locket. The delicate silver casing split open, spilling tiny fragments of dried herbs across the polished floor.

I dropped to my knees, scrambling to gather the precious herbs with trembling fingers. "These are blessed by the Moon Goddess!"

"Nonsense," he snarled, grinding his heel into the remaining fragments. "Superstition."

He dragged me down the winding stone staircase to the basement level where The Sanctuary waited—a soundproof, silver-lined cell designed to block the mind-link between wolf and human.

"Twenty-four hours," he repeated, shoving me through the heavy iron door. "Perhaps then you'll remember your place."

The door slammed shut with a final, terrible clang.

I collapsed against the cold silver walls, feeling Luna howl in agony within me as the silver began its work, weakening our bond.

"Greyson!" I screamed, pounding on the door. "You can't do this! Not while I'm carrying your pup!"

But the soundproof walls swallowed my cries whole.

In the darkness, I felt something warm and wet between my legs, and my heart stopped.

No.

Not now.

Please, not now.