My Mate Watched His Mistress Murder Our Unborn Child

The storm outside mirrored the tempest in my soul. Rain lashed against the tiny window of my cell, each droplet a countdown to my end. I'd lost track of time in this silver-lined prison—days blending into weeks, my body growing weaker with each passing hour.

Luna stirred within me, her presence faint but persistent. *We're dying, Brooke.*

"I know," I whispered, my voice cracking from disuse. The silver collar around my neck burned against my skin, its constant suppression making it impossible to reach out through the mind-link.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated my cell, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. The lights flickered, then dimmed to a faint glow.

"Please," I murmured, not knowing who I was begging—the Moon Goddess, my father, or just the cruel twist of fate that had brought me here.

Another surge of electricity caused the lights to flash erratically. I felt a momentary loosening of the collar's grip on my mind—just a fraction, but enough.

*Now!* Luna urged with unexpected strength. *Brooke, try now!*

I closed my eyes, summoning every ounce of my remaining Alpha bloodline strength. My father's face floated before me—his proud smile, his unwavering protection. I thought of my mother's gentle hands, of home.

"ANDREW!" I screamed, not with my voice but with my mind, pushing through the silver fog with everything I had. "HELP ME!"

The words tore from my consciousness like shards of glass. I felt something snap inside me as the message hurtled across the distance to my brother.

"ANDREW, PLEASE... SILVERCLAW... DUNGEON..."

Darkness rushed in from the edges of my vision. The last thing I heard was the collar's electronic whine as it regained full power, crushing my brief moment of rebellion.

---

The Silverclaw border patrol never saw them coming.

Andrew's elite warriors moved like shadows through the forest, their black tactical gear blending with the night. My brother led from the front, his massive form radiating fury as he detected my scent—faint but unmistakable—mingled with pain and silver.

"Find her," he growled to his Beta. "I don't care if you tear this territory apart."

The border guards barely had time to raise the alarm before Moonriver's warriors crashed through their line. Andrew didn't bother with diplomacy or demands—he simply moved forward with deadly purpose, his aura so powerful that several Silverclaw wolves dropped to their knees without a fight.

Charles emerged from the pack house, his face contorted with rage. "You have no right to be here!"

Andrew didn't waste time with words. He lunged forward, his partial shift giving him claws and fangs. Charles barely had time to defend himself before Andrew's hand closed around his throat.

"Where is she?" Andrew's voice was deadly quiet.

"Who?" Charles choked out, playing dumb.

"My sister." Andrew's grip tightened. "The Luna you've imprisoned."

Confusion flickered across Charles's face before understanding dawned. "You can't just—"

Andrew threw him aside and stormed into the pack house, following my scent trail. His warriors efficiently subdued any resistance, their movements practiced and lethal.

The dungeon door was thick, reinforced with silver and steel. Andrew didn't hesitate—he simply tore it from its hinges with a roar that shook the entire building.

The sight that greeted him made his blood run cold.

I lay crumpled on the floor, my once-proud body reduced to skin and bone. The silver collar gleamed cruelly around my neck, my wrists raw from struggling against the chains that bound me to the wall.

"Brooke," he whispered, his voice breaking as he rushed to my side.

I stirred at the sound of his voice, my eyes fluttering open. "Andrew?"

His face was a mask of controlled fury as he gently removed the collar, his hands shaking with rage. "I've got you now. You're safe."

He turned to his Beta. "Bring Charles down here. Now."

---

Andrew dragged Charles by the throat into the cell, throwing him to the floor beside me. Charles's eyes widened as he took in my condition—the emaciation, the bruises, the hollow look in my eyes.

"This is what you've done," Andrew snarled, his claws extending. "This is my sister—my blood—treated worse than a rogue."

Charles tried to speak, but Andrew's grip tightened. "You don't deserve to breathe the same air as her."

I watched through half-closed eyes as my brother positioned his claws over Charles's heart. One thrust would end it all—the mate bond would snap, and Charles would die.

"Andrew," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He turned to me, his eyes softening. "What do you need, little one?"

"Take me home," I managed, each word a struggle. "Just take me home."

Something shifted in Andrew's expression—a calculation, a promise. He removed his claws from Charles's chest but didn't release his grip.

"You're lucky she still has compassion," he growled. "But make no mistake—this isn't over."

He lifted me gently in his arms, cradling me against his chest as if I weighed nothing. As he carried me past Charles, he paused.

"Enjoy what's left of your pack," he said coldly. "By tomorrow, the Moonriver alliance will have crushed your economy. Your borders will be closed, your trade routes blocked. You'll beg for mercy you'll never receive."

As Andrew carried me from the dungeon, I heard Charles's broken whisper behind us: "Brooke..."

But I didn't look back. The Silverclaw Pack—and the mate who had betrayed me—faded into darkness as my brother took me home.