The Alpha Signed Away His Fated Mate

Elara POV:

The Sovrano mansion wasn't a home. It was a mausoleum with better furniture.

I moved fast, shoving cash and Julian’s fake ID into a duffel bag. No clothes. No jewelry. Just survival gear.

My phone pinged.

*From: Silver Peak Sanctuary, Switzerland.*

*Subject: Application Approved.*

Switzerland. Neutral ground. The one place Pack Law couldn't touch me.

I reached for a sweater, and the room tilted.

A wave of nausea hit me so hard I had to grab the bedpost. And the smell—my senses were suddenly dialed to eleven. I could smell the dust in the vents. I could hear a squirrel's heartbeat in the yard.

*No. Not now.*

The Heat. Last month. Dante had come home wired from a border skirmish. It hadn't been love making; it had been biology.

I scrambled to the bathroom, ripping open a box of "Silver-Strip" tests.

Three minutes. Eternity.

I looked down. The strip wasn't just blue. It was glowing a violent, pulsating crimson.

*Positive. High Alpha Bloodline detected.*

I clamped a hand over my mouth.

Pregnant.

Cold panic washed over me. If Dante knew...

He wouldn't see a child. He’d see an heir. He’d take the baby, raise it in the "Blood Moon" way—cold, ruthless, a soldier first and a person second. And me? I’d be the incubator locked in the nursery.

"No," I whispered. "Not my baby."

I realized why he hadn't smelled it yet. The nausea masked it. But soon, I’d smell like milk and new life.

I chewed a handful of "Ghost Briar" from Julian’s stash. It tasted like dirt and ash, but it killed the scent.

My hand hovered over my flat stomach. There was a pulse there. Strong. Too strong for a few weeks.

My wolf lifted her head. She didn't whine. She snarled.

*Run,* she commanded. *Now.*

I zipped the bag. I wanted to leave a letter. I wanted to scream at him. But anger was a luxury I couldn't afford.

I had to be a ghost.

"Hold on, little one," I whispered to my belly. "We're going somewhere the orders don't reach."

*