Chapter 2

Alpha Thorne Blackwood froze, his claws unsheathing as his grip on the phone turned the metal casing to crumpled scrap. His golden eyes burned with a feral intensity, his wolf scent spiking with shock.

Watching his stunned expression, I let out a hollow, spectral growl.

It had been a critical time for the Blackwood Pack’s alliance with the Silvermane Trading Guild, so I’d hidden my true whelping date for two moons to avoid distracting him. I’d told him I was only six months along.

But if my Alpha had ever bothered to scent my den, he would’ve found the healer’s scrolls in my drawer—proof of the pup’s true due date.

If he’d cared, I could never have concealed it.

The truth was simple: his wolf had never truly been mine.

A low-ranking Delta in the crowd dared to mutter, "So Luna Sylva didn’t just lose control of her bladder? Her waters truly broke?"

Alpha Thorne’s head snapped up, his snarl ripping through the air as he pinned Beta Garrick with a glare that promised violence.

"Garrick. You escorted her to every healer’s visit. You swore she was only six moons pregnant. Explain."

Beta Garrick dropped his gaze, baring his throat in submission—but not out of respect. Out of guilt.

He should feel guilty. He’d helped murder me.

When my labor had started, I’d howled for my mate through the pack bond, begging for help.

But Beta Garrick, who knew the truth, had intervened. "She’s lying, Alpha. The healer confirmed it’s too early."

And Livia, that venomous she-wolf, had woven her poison: "She’s humiliating you on purpose, Alpha. Pissing herself like a frightened pup to ruin your ceremony."

With their words echoing in his ears, Alpha Thorne had dragged me to the abandoned Moonwood Dens and locked me inside.

The moment the door slammed shut, the pain had torn through me—crippling, wrong. I’d crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath me as my pup fought to survive.

I’d clawed at Beta Garrick’s boots, my voice raw. *"Please… the pup—*our pup—"

He’d sneered down at me, his boot crushing my fingers. Then, with a merciless snarl, he’d kicked my swollen belly—once, twice—until the world went dark.

By the time the bleeding stopped, my pup was nothing but a lifeless scrap of fur in my arms.

Now, as Beta Garrick hesitated, Livia slithered forward, her voice dripping with false sympathy.

"Alpha Thorne, I never thought Luna Sylva would stoop so low. Faking illness, lying to healers… all to manipulate you." She pressed a delicate hand to his chest. "If it were me, I’d never shame my mate like this."

Alpha Thorne’s growl deepened, his canines flashing as he snarled into the phone, "Tell Luna Sylva her games end now. I won’t indulge her tantrums."

He crushed the phone in his palm, and Livia’s eyes gleamed with victory.

After the ceremony, as the pack dispersed, Livia clung to Alpha Thorne’s arm, her voice a purr.

"Take me to your den tonight, Alpha. If we’re to sell this mating, we must commit."

His muscles tensed. He’d sworn to me—under the full moon—that no other she-wolf would ever enter our shared den.

But Livia’s claws pricked his skin, her eyes wet with calculated tears. "What will the pack say if I slink home alone? A pregnant, unmated Beta? I’ll be ruined."

With a resigned growl, he yielded.

He cared for her reputation—but not enough to realize he’d signed my death warrant.

When they crossed the threshold of our den, the elderly Pack Mother Laura greeted them—then stiffened at the sight of Livia.

"Welcome home, Alpha Thorne and… Beta Livia."

Livia’s smile turned lethal. She dug her claws into Alpha Thorne’s arm, whispering, "They must believe this is real."

His jaw clenched, but he commanded, "Call her Luna."

My ghostly heart shattered.

He’d vowed I’d be his only Luna.

Pack Mother Laura bristled. "Luna Sylva will be devastated—"

"When she returns," Alpha Thorne interrupted, "we’ll revert the titles. For now, Livia is Luna."

Livia strutted into the bedroom, draping herself in my furs, my moonstone jewelry, smearing my berry-stain across her lips like a claim.

Alpha Thorne said nothing.

When Pack Mother Laura opened her muzzle to protest, he cut her off. "Prepare roasted elk ribs and sun-gilded pheasant. Livia favors them." His voice softened. "No wolfsbane or fire-peppers. They upset her stomach."

A whimper escaped me.

He’d shared my bed for years yet never remembered my allergy to moonfin. But Livia’s every whim was etched into his bones.

I’d thought him indifferent. Now I saw the truth: his wolf simply hadn’t been mine to tame.

Then Livia spotted it—the scarf I’d woven for him, its threads laced with my scent, embroidered with LJB: "Love Thorne Blackwood."

Her snarl ripped through the room as she shredded it with her claws.

"Even dead, you cling to him, you pathetic human-turned-wolf! You were never his true mate!"

I recoiled.

How did she know I was dead?

Before I could react, Alpha Thorne burst in—and froze at the sight of the tattered scarf at Livia’s feet.

His eyes bled to wolf.