C5

Andrew Wolfe POV

"Andrew, listen to me, I am your mother. Do you really believe my own wolf would plot against our bloodline?" Maren Cole’s soft voice trembles inside the stone vault of Riverbend Abbey, but her scent leaks guilty anxiety. "Think about the timeline yourself. You and Lanka Monroe have been completely secretive about his heat cycles, and then he suddenly runs off to the outer territories under the guise of pack training. Now I bring him the sacred pregnancy broths, and he dumps them in the dirt. I find out he is shifting into his beast form to run with rogue packs, putting the pup at risk. With all those deceptive maneuvers, can you blame me for wanting to pierce his skin to verify the lineage? I refuse to let an omega pull the wool over your eyes. In the medical wing today, he screamed it himself that the pup does not carry your true alpha spark."

"Mother, what actually rots your brain?" I growl, my claws gouging deep tracks into the armrest of the wooden chair as I rise to lock my amber gaze onto her pale face. "Are you truly terrified that my nest is compromised, or are you just desperate to find out if this pup’s marrow can be harvested to patch up Damon Hawthorne’s dying heir? Do you take me for a brainless pup who cannot scent your true motives?"

"Andrew, how can you speak to your mother with such venom?" Maren licks her dry lips, her fingers clutching her ceremonial furs as she stumbles backward. "I brought you into this pack. You are my firstborn Alpha. Even if I am focused on the Hawthorne family, Damon is your pack ally, your blood brother by law. As the leader of the Wolfe Crest Estate, shouldn't you want to save our closest allies? Why does it infuriate you that your mate's womb might carry the cure for our pack's survival?"

"Since the dawn of my first shift, have you ever looked at me as a son, or am I just the curse that outlived the three purebreds you lost to the winter famine?" I bark, stepping directly into her space until my dominant pheromones slam her against the stone wall, crushing her frantic breathing. "You cannot tolerate seeing my wolf find peace with a true mate, and you would gladly butcher Lanka and our pup on a ritual table just to seal another treaty with the Hawthornes, wouldn't you, Mother?"

"No, that is a lie! I never harbored such dark thoughts! How can you accuse the high matron of this pack?" Maren screeches, her legs giving out as she slides down the cold stone floor, clutching her pounding chest. "It is that broken little stray Lanka! He seduces your mind, turns your fangs against your own flesh and blood! You are an ungrateful, ruthless beast, Andrew! The elders are right about your cold heart!"

"The enforcers stay outside your doors, Mother," I say, turning my back on her shrill cries as my heavy boots echo across the grand hall, leaving Riverbend Abbey behind to face the dark, starless night alone.

Lanka Monroe POV

"Andrew, why must you run to the northern borders? The pack academies here can train your wolf. Don't leave the territory," my eleven-year-old voice pleads in the shifting fog of my nightmare, taking me back to the summer my family’s pack lands still thrived.

"I have no choice, Lanka. The blood bond calls me to the frozen seas," his teenage alpha silhouette says, his large hand resting on my head before he climbs into the transport that would keep him away for five long winters.

"But I can run with you. I can hunt for you, guard your nest, I am strong enough!" I yell, my tears freezing on my cheeks.

"No, little wolf. You must stay here and grow," he whispers, his scent fading into the dark.

The dream shatters violently, morphing into the blinding torches of the Silverline Medical Center extraction cell.

"Rip his stomach open!" Maren Cole roars to the pack shamans, her claws dripping with dark ritual oil. "The Hawthorne heir is dying, extract the Monroe pack essence before the moon sets!"

"Get away from me! Andrew will slaughter every one of you if you touch my womb!" I scream, pinning my limbs against the leather straps as the silver lance hovers over my bare skin.

"You foolish omega, Andrew is the one who signed the treaty!" Lydiasa Hawthorne sneers from the shadows, her pregnant belly swollen as she holds Andrew’s hand. "His true affection belongs to me now, and your pup is nothing but a blood vessel to keep my family alive!"

"No! Andrew, don't let them! Stop!" I shriek, flailing my arms wildly in the dark until a pair of thick, warm arms pin my shaking shoulders against a feather mattress.

"Lanka! Lanka, open your eyes! You are safe in our nest!" Andrew’s deep voice cuts through the terror, his handsome features tight with intense worry as he pulls my trembling body against his bare, solid chest.

"A nightmare? Breathe, my mate, I have you," he rumbles, his massive hand rubbing soothing circles down my spine, pouring his comforting cedar scent into my lungs until my vision finally clears.

"Let go of me," I gasp, the reality of his betrayal crashing back into my mind as I shove against his heavy pectorals, trying to wrench myself out of his hold.

"Stay down, Lanka," Andrew commands softly, his thick arms wrapping around my waist like iron bands to pull me right back into his heat. "The pack doctors insisted you remain in the birthing nest for three full days to heal the silver burn."