Chapter 4

Fred’s brow pulled into a thunderous scowl, but I was already stepping into the elevator, the doors sliding shut on his guilt.

For the next week, I became a ghost, pouring every ounce of my energy into the legal severance. I ignored Fred’s frantic calls and his staged, worried texts. Meanwhile, Cynthia’s social feed was a masterclass in psychological warfare. Sunset silhouettes. Interlocked fingers. A man—his build unmistakable—carrying her through the surf. She was practically shoving the camera into Fred’s face, daring me to look.

Seven days later, I went to the Pack clinic for a routine follow-up. I rounded a corner and stopped dead.

Fred was there. His mother, the former Luna, stood beside him. And between them, looking like a cherished prize, was Cynthia.

"My proudest girl," the former Luna crooned, her face etched with smug satisfaction. "You’re already carrying the Alpha bloodline this family deserves."

I pressed my back against the cold tile of the wall, watching as Fred lifted a hand—the same hand that used to stroke my hair—to cup Cynthia’s cheek.

"You’re going to be a remarkable mother," he murmured.

The words were a physical blow. He had said that to me, in that exact, reverent tone, when I carried our first pup. The fury and the bitterness rose in my throat like bile. I turned to bolt for the elevator, but the doors slid open and Cynthia stepped out, blocking my path.

"Sister," she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "You’re truly pathetic. You’ve seen everything, yet you’re still clinging to a bond that’s already dead. What are you waiting for?"

She lifted her chin, eyes flashing. "You swore to protect me when we were kids, remember? Are you really going to let my baby be born a nameless bastard? Fred’s own blood is growing inside me right now."

I looked her dead in the eye. "Why? Was I not good enough to you?"

"Good enough?" She let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "If you actually cared about me, you would have walked away the night you followed us to the cabin. You would have handed me the Luna title and never looked back."

My pupils contracted. She had known I was outside that night.

"Why do you get the strongest Alpha?" she hissed. "The first day you brought him home, I wanted him. I’ve been out of my mind with it ever since." She ran a hand over her still-flat stomach, a sick smile spreading across her lips. "There’s one more thing, Sister. That dead pup? I swapped your prenatal herbs for Wolfsbane. Every single day. That’s why it rotted inside you."

The world went white.

I remembered the agony of the seventh month. The Healer telling me I was too weak. The blood on the operating table. I had spent years blaming my own body for murdering my child.

It wasn't a tragedy. It was a hit.

Red flooded my vision. I lunged, my fingers locking around her throat with the strength of a true Alpha daughter.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Fred slammed into me from the side. He wrenched my hands back so violently I heard the bone in my wrist snap. I cried out as he threw me aside, shielding Cynthia with his body.

The former Luna screamed, swinging her heavy designer bag directly into my temple. "How dare you!" she shrieked. "How dare you touch the Alpha's heir!"