THE SHADOW ALPHA

Veronica

I woke to warmth. That was the first shock. I'd been dying in the snow, frozen and bleeding, and now I felt warm. Soft sheets covered my body. A fire crackled somewhere nearby. The air smelled of pine and something else, something wild and unfamiliar.

I opened my eyes slowly. The room was dark, lit only by firelight that cast dancing shadows on stone walls. This wasn't Richard's pack house. The architecture was different, older, built from mountain stone instead of modern materials.

Where was I?

I tried to sit up, and pain shot through my ribs. My hand went instinctively to my side, expecting to find fresh wounds, but instead I felt bandages, clean and tight. Someone had treated my injuries.

"You're awake."

The voice came from the shadows near the door. Deep, rough, commanding. A man stepped into the firelight, and my breath caught.

He was massive, easily six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders that filled the doorway. Dark hair fell to his shoulders, and a jagged scar cut across his left cheek, running from his eye to his jaw. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, gray and cold, studying me like I was a puzzle to solve.

Alpha. Every instinct in my damaged wolf recognized it. This man radiated power that made Richard look like a child playing dress-up.

"Who are you?" My voice came out hoarse, damaged.

"Alpha Damian." He moved closer, and I noticed he walked with a slight limp. "Of the Shadowfang Pack."

My father's letter. The pack in the northern mountains. This was them.

"How did I get here?"

"I found you bleeding in the snow on the border of my territory." He pulled up a chair and sat, his movements controlled and deliberate. "You were minutes from death."

"Why save me?" I watched him carefully. "You don't know me."

His eyes dropped to my neck, and I felt his gaze like a physical touch on the mark there. Richard's mark, the one that branded me as his mate.

"Oh, I know exactly who you are, Veronica." His voice turned cold. "The fallen Luna. Richard's rejected wife. The woman he threw away for Catherine."

Shame burned through me. "Then why am I alive?"

"Because you're useful." He leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Richard and I have history. Bad history. And you, little Luna, are the perfect weapon against him."

My stomach dropped. "I won't be used."

"You don't have a choice." His voice was matter-of-fact, not cruel but honest. "You have nowhere else to go. Your pack rejected you. Your mate abandoned you. You were dying in the snow. I saved your life, which means you owe me."

"I owe you nothing," I said, but the words felt hollow. He was right. I had nothing. I was nothing.

"We'll see." He stood, moving toward the door. "Rest. Heal. We'll talk more when you're stronger."

"Wait." I struggled to sit up fully. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days."

Three days. I'd been unconscious for three days.

"My son," I whispered. "Henry, is he..."

"Your son is fine. Living happily with his father and his father's new whore." Damian's voice held no sympathy. "They held a ceremony yesterday, officially naming Catherine as Luna. The entire pack celebrated."

The words cut deeper than any blade. They'd replaced me completely. Erased me like I never existed.

Damian left, closing the door behind him. I heard a lock click. I was a prisoner. A useful prisoner, but a prisoner nonetheless. Over the next two days, I slowly recovered. A healer came, an older woman named Ruth who changed my bandages and brought me food. She didn't speak much, but her touch was gentle.

And something strange was happening. My wolf, who'd been silent and broken for months, was waking up. Not just stirring, but actually healing. Each day I felt her grow stronger, felt the connection between us repairing itself.

It shouldn't be possible. The doctors had said major organ removal caused permanent damage to a shifter's wolf. Recovery could take years, if it happened at all. But I was healing in days. On the third evening, I heard voices outside my door. Angry voices.

"This is insane, Damian." A man's voice, younger than the Alpha's. "You're keeping Richard's rejected mate in our territory? Do you know what kind of war this could start?"

"I'm counting on it." Damian's voice was calm. "Richard needs to be taken down. He's gotten too powerful, too arrogant. This is our chance."

"By using her as bait? She's weak, broken. Look at her. She can barely stand."

"Weak?" Damian laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. "Marcus, there's something off about her. Her wolf is healing too fast. Ruth says it's impossible, but it's happening."

Marcus, the Beta, I guessed, lowered his voice. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying there's more to Richard's little rejected wife than meets the eye. And I intend to find out what."

"And if she dies before then? If Richard comes for her?"

"Then we fight." Simple. Final. "Either way, Richard loses something. If she lives, we use her. If she dies, he's proven to his pack that he's a monster who kills his own mate."

I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound. They were going to use me as bait, as a weapon. And if I died in the process, that was just fine with them.

I moved away from the door and climbed back into bed, my mind racing. I needed to escape. But where would I go? I was weak, barely healed, in unfamiliar territory miles from anything I knew. I lay there as darkness fell completely, staring at the ceiling.

Then it happened. Pain. Sudden, vicious, like someone had shoved a burning poker through my chest. I gasped, doubling over. This wasn't physical pain. This was something else.

My wolf howled inside me, a sound of pure agony. The mate bond. Someone was doing something to the mate bond. I felt it like fire through my veins, burning and twisting. Images flashed through my mind. Catherine, standing in a circle of black candles. Her hands were covered in blood. Richard beside her, watching. A ritual. She was performing a ritual.

My wolf thrashed, fighting, but the fire kept burning. They were trying to destroy what remained of our connection, trying to sever the last thread that tied me to Richard, to the pack, to everything I'd been.

"No," I gasped, clutching my chest. "No, please."

But the fire kept burning. I felt my wolf weakening, felt her starting to fade again.

And then something inside me snapped. Not broke. Snapped into place. Power flooded through my body, ancient and fierce. My eyes flew open, and the room blazed with silver light. Not from the fire, but from me. From my eyes.

My wolf surged forward, stronger than she'd ever been, even before the surgery. Her voice rang in my mind, clear as a bell, furious and wild.

"They took everything,"* she snarled. *"Our mate. Our son. Our pack. Our dignity."

I felt my body changing, felt my canines lengthening, my nails sharpening into claws. The silver light intensified until the entire room glowed.

"Now," my wolf growled, and I felt her rage become mine, felt our souls merge completely for the first time in months, "we take it back."

The door burst open. Damian stood there, his eyes wide with shock.

"What the hell are you?" he breathed.

I looked at him, and I knew my eyes were blazing silver, I knew I looked like something otherworldly. Something powerful. Something dangerous.

"I'm done being weak," I said, and my voice carried a double tone, mine and my wolf's combined. "I'm done being used. And I'm done running."

The silver light pulsed through my veins like lightning, like moonlight made solid.

"They want a war?" I smiled, and it wasn't a kind smile. "Then let's give them one.”