Rejected While Carrying His Heir

The nausea hit before the alarm. I barely made it to the bathroom. My knees cracked against the cold tile as I hunched over the toilet, heaving until my ribs ached. The Luna suite had marble floors and gold fixtures and a walk-in closet full of clothes Desmond never noticed me wear. But at six in the morning, all that mattered was the toilet bowl. When it passed, I sat back on my heels and pressed my forehead against the cool porcelain. My wolf, Maren, stirred inside me. She'd been restless for days. *Something is different,* she whispered. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "It's probably the salmon from last night." *It's not the salmon.* I ignored her. I stood up, rinsed my face, and looked in the mirror. Pale skin. Dark circles. My chestnut hair was tangled from a rough sleep. I looked like I hadn't rested in weeks. Honestly, I hadn't. Three years of sleeping next to a man who treated you like furniture could do that. Three years. That's how long I'd been Luna of the Silverfang Pack. Not because Desmond chose me. Not because the Moon Goddess paired us in some beautiful, romantic revelation under the stars. No. I became Luna because my sister Seraphina ran. She was supposed to be the one standing at the altar. She was the one my father, Arthur Gilbert, had groomed and polished and presented to Alpha Desmond Spencer like a gift wrapped in silk. The alliance between our family and Silverfang was everything to my father. He was a lower-ranking wolf with big ambitions, and marrying his daughter to an Alpha was his golden ticket. But three days before the ceremony, Seraphina vanished. Left a note on her pillow that said she "needed to find herself" and caught a flight to some pack in Europe. My father nearly had a stroke. The alliance was crumbling. Desmond's pride was shattered. And someone had to fix it. So they looked at me. "Harper, you'll step in," my father had said. Not a question. Not a request. A command, delivered without eye contact, while my mother nodded beside him like a bobblehead. I was twenty years old. I said yes because I thought it was the right thing to do. Because I thought maybe, once Desmond smelled me—really smelled me—he'd feel the bond. And he did smell me. Warm cedar and honey. That's what I was to him. His wolf recognized it. I saw it in his eyes that first night, the way his pupils blew wide and his nostrils flared. But Desmond was stubborn. Proud. Furious that his chosen bride had humiliated him. And I was just the replacement. The backup plan. He marked me because the pack needed a Luna, not because he wanted one. The bite on my neck was a formality, not a promise. For three years, I cooked his meals—every single one carefully prepared without wolfsbane, because even trace amounts could send him into anaphylactic shock. I managed the pack house. I mediated disputes between wolves. I attended every ceremony, every meeting, every event, standing one step behind him with a smile that never quite reached my eyes. And for three years, Desmond barely looked at me. I turned away from the mirror. No point staring at a ghost. But the nausea came back an hour later. And again after breakfast. By mid-morning, Maren was practically howling inside my skull. *Go to the healer. Now.* So I went. The pack's healing ward was on the east side of the compound, a clean white building that smelled like antiseptic and dried sage. I slipped in through the side door, hoping to avoid attention. The last thing I needed was pack gossip about the Luna looking sickly. Old Dr. Whitfield was in his office, reading something on his tablet. He was a gray-haired wolf in his sixties with kind eyes and steady hands. He'd been Silverfang's healer for decades. "Luna Harper." He stood when he saw me. "What brings you in?" "Just some nausea," I said, sitting on the exam table. "Probably a stomach bug." He studied me for a moment. Then he pulled out a small kit and drew blood without a word. I watched him work, my fingers gripping the edge of the table. Maren was pacing inside me, back and forth, back and forth. Ten minutes later, Dr. Whitfield came back. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes were soft. "Luna," he said gently. "You're pregnant. About six weeks along." The room tilted. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My hand moved to my stomach on its own, pressing flat against the fabric of my shirt. Pregnant. A pup. Desmond's pup. Maren surged forward with a warmth I hadn't felt from her in months. *Our pup. Ours.* Tears burned behind my eyes. I blinked them back fast. "You're sure?" "Positive." Dr. Whitfield handed me a tissue I didn't ask for. "Bloodwork confirms it. You're healthy. The pup is healthy." I pressed my palm harder against my belly. A tiny life. Growing inside me. Half mine, half Desmond's. Something real. Something that couldn't be ignored or dismissed or replaced. For the first time in three years, hope cracked through the wall I'd built around my heart. Maybe this would change things. Maybe when Desmond found out he was going to be a father, something in him would shift. His wolf already recognized our bond—I knew it did, even if Desmond refused to admit it. A pup was sacred. A pup was proof. He couldn't look at his own child and still call me a substitute. Could he? I walked back to the Luna suite with my hand on my stomach the entire way. I was already planning how to tell him. Maybe tonight, after dinner. I'd make his favorite—herb-crusted venison with roasted root vegetables, no wolfsbane seasoning anywhere near the kitchen. I'd set the table properly. Light candles. And then I'd tell him, and I'd watch his face, and maybe—just maybe—I'd finally see something other than indifference. I was halfway through choosing a dress when the mind-link crackled open. Desmond's voice filled my head. Cold. Flat. The way he always sounded when he spoke to me through the bond. *Come to the great hall. Now.* No explanation. No context. Just a command. Maren bristled. *Why the great hall? That's for formal pack business.* I smoothed down my dress—a simple navy blue one—and checked my reflection. I looked better than this morning. The color had returned to my cheeks. There was even a small glow about me that hadn't been there before. The pregnancy, maybe. I touched my stomach one more time. "It's okay," I murmured. "Maybe he already knows. Maybe Dr. Whitfield told him, and he wants to talk." *In the great hall?* Maren's doubt was sharp. I pushed it aside. I'd spent three years reading Desmond's moods, anticipating his needs, adjusting myself to fit whatever version of Luna he required that day. If he wanted to meet in the great hall, fine. Maybe he wanted witnesses when he acknowledged the pregnancy. Maybe this was his way of making it official. I held onto that thought like a lifeline as I walked down the corridor. The great hall was at the center of the pack house. Tall ceilings, dark wood paneling, the Silverfang crest carved into the wall behind the Alpha's chair. It was where Desmond held formal meetings, where disputes were settled, where pack law was spoken aloud so everyone could hear. I pushed open the heavy double doors. Desmond sat in his chair at the head of the long table. His jaw was set. His dark eyes locked onto me the moment I entered, and there was nothing warm in them. Nothing soft. Just stone. But he wasn't alone. Beta Julian Hayes stood to his right, arms crossed, his expression carefully blank—the way it got when he was trying very hard not to show what he was feeling. Gamma Torres was on the left, stiff as a board. And behind them, seated along the table like a jury, were six pack elders. My steps slowed. This wasn't a private conversation. This wasn't a celebration. This was a tribunal. Maren's hackles rose inside me, a low growl vibrating through my chest that only I could hear. *Harper. Something is very wrong.* Desmond's gaze didn't waver. He didn't stand. He didn't greet me. He just watched me walk toward him with the same expression he might give a stranger. And my hand, still resting on my stomach, began to tremble.

I stopped a few feet from the long wooden table. The air in the great hall felt thick and heavy. The six pack elders sat perfectly still, their faces carved from stone. Beta Julian stared at the floor, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. Gamma Torres refused to meet my eyes. My gaze drifted past them, up to the raised platform where the Alpha's chair sat. Desmond was standing. But he wasn't alone. A woman stepped out from the shadows behind his chair. She wore a sleek, crimson dress. Her long blonde hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders. The heavy, suffocating scent of expensive floral perfume rolled off her, completely masking her natural wolf scent. Seraphina. My sister. My breath hitched in my throat. The room tilted for a second. She offered me a soft, breathy smile that didn't reach her calculating eyes. Then, she stepped closer to Desmond and slipped her delicate hand into his. He didn't pull away. Instead, he laced his fingers through hers and stood taller. Maren, my wolf, let out a confused, wounded whimper in my mind. "Desmond?" My voice sounded small. I hated how small it sounded."What is this?" Desmond's eyes were flat and dark. He didn't look guilty. He looked completely resolved. When he spoke, he used his Alpha tone. The heavy, commanding frequency pressed down on my shoulders, trying to force me to my knees. I locked my legs. I refused to bow. "Three years ago, you stepped in to fill a void," Desmond said. His voice echoed off the dark wood panels."A temporary fix for a broken alliance. But Seraphina has returned. My true chosen mate is back." I stared at him. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears."A temporary fix? Desmond, I am your marked Luna." "A mistake," he snapped back. He took a step forward, dropping his Alpha aura heavily over the room."A mark born of pure necessity. Your scent... that warm cedar and honey. It never truly called to my wolf. It was just convenient. You were just convenient." The lie hit me like a physical punch to the gut. Maren howled in sheer agony. He was denying the bond. The fundamental, sacred truth of our mating. He knew my scent drove his wolf wild. I had seen it in his eyes for three years. But his pride and his sick obsession with my sister were blinding him. Seraphina looked down at me from the platform. She tilted her head, playing the perfect victim."It's for the best, Harper," she said in her sweet, high-pitched voice."You were never meant for this life. You tried your best, sweetie, but you just aren't Luna material." I ignored her. My eyes stayed locked on my mate."Desmond. Don't do this." He didn't even blink. He squared his shoulders, looking out over the elders. "I, Desmond Spencer, Alpha of the Silverfang Pack," his voice boomed, loud and unforgiving, "reject you, Harper Gilbert, as my mate and my Luna." The words tore through my chest. It felt like invisible, white-hot claws ripping my soul in half. The mating mark on my neck burned like someone had pressed a branding iron to my skin. Maren screamed inside my head, a sound of pure, dying grief. My knees buckled. I caught myself on the edge of the heavy wooden table, my knuckles turning white. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. I would not fall. Not in front of them. Desmond watched me struggle. His face remained a mask of arrogant indifference. Then, his dark eyes flicked down to my stomach. "Dr. Whitfield gave me his morning report," Desmond said coldly."He informed me of your... condition." The blood drained from my face. My hand flew to my flat stomach on instinct. Beta Julian's head snapped up. He looked between Desmond and me, his eyes wide with sudden shock. Even the elders shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "A pup," Desmond said. He said the word like it was a disease."Conceived out of desperation. Or perhaps infidelity. Because I know my own wolf, Harper. I know I never fully claimed you in my heart. That pup is no true Silverfang heir." Gasps echoed from the table. Julian took a step forward."Alpha, you can't—" "Silence!" Desmond roared, his Alpha tone slamming into Julian and forcing the Beta to drop his gaze. Desmond turned back to me, his lip curled in disgust."I deny it. I deny any claim to that pup. It is nothing to me." Denying a pup. It was the ultimate taboo. It was a death sentence to a mother's reputation. He wasn't just throwing me away. He was throwing our child to the wolves, branding me a liar and a cheat just to keep his own image clean for Seraphina. The blinding pain in my chest suddenly stopped. It didn't fade. It just froze. The agonizing grief of the rejection hit a wall of pure, absolute ice. Maren stopped thrashing. She stood up inside my mind, the hair on her spine raised, her teeth bared. *He is dead to us,* she snarled. I looked at Desmond. I really looked at him. I saw the dullness in his eyes. I saw the weak, pathetic man hiding behind a loud Alpha voice. I saw my sister, clinging to his arm, wearing a dress she probably bought with someone else's money. For three years, I had made myself small for this man. I had cooked his wolfsbane-free meals, managed his pack, and begged for scraps of his affection. The desperate, people-pleasing substitute Luna died right there on the marble floor. I slowly stood up straight. I kept my hand pressed flat over my stomach, shielding my tiny, unacknowledged pup. I felt the burn on my neck, but I didn't reach for it. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I didn't drop to the floor and beg for him to reconsider. The silence in the great hall grew thick. It grew terrifying. Desmond frowned. A flicker of unease crossed his face. He expected me to crumble. He expected tears. Seraphina's fake smile faltered, her brow furrowing as she watched me. I met Desmond's gaze with eyes as cold and empty as a winter night. "You deny the pup," I said. My voice wasn't shaking anymore. It was perfectly calm. It was so steady it made Gamma Torres flinch. "I do," Desmond said, though his voice lacked the booming confidence from a moment ago. I nodded slowly. I didn't break eye contact. "Remember this moment, Desmond," I said quietly, my words slicing through the heavy silence of the room."Remember exactly what you threw away."

I walked out of the great hall and didn't look back. My feet carried me down the corridor on autopilot. Past the portraits of past Alphas and Lunas lining the walls. Past the trophy case full of Silverfang victories. Past the kitchen, where the warm smell of the morning's breakfast still lingered in the air. My hands were steady. My face was dry. Maren was quiet inside me, coiled tight like a spring that hadn't decided whether to snap or hold. I went straight to the Luna suite. I didn't pack slowly. I didn't sit on the bed and cry into a pillow. I pulled my two largest bags from the closet and started filling them with the things that were actually mine. My herbalism journals. The small wooden box of dried botanicals I kept on the nightstand. My mother's old silver bracelet—the one thing she'd given me before she decided Seraphina was more worth giving things to. A few changes of clothes. My documents. My phone charger. I left the designer dresses. I left the jewelry Desmond had given me on our first anniversary—a gift his Beta had probably picked out. I left the silk robe hanging on the bathroom door and the expensive face creams lined up on the vanity. None of it was mine. It was all props in a role I'd been playing. I zipped the bags and set them by the door. Then I stood in the middle of the room for a moment. The Luna suite. Three years of my life lived inside these walls. I pressed my palm flat against my stomach, the way I'd been doing all morning without thinking about it. "We're leaving," I told my pup quietly. "We're not coming back." Maren made a low sound of agreement. I picked up my bags and walked out. --- The kitchen was already struggling by noon. I heard it from the guest room I'd moved into temporarily—raised voices, the clatter of pots, someone calling for the head cook. I didn't go to help. I sat on the narrow guest bed and listened. For three years, I had personally managed every meal that came out of that kitchen. Not because it was required of me. Because Desmond's wolfsbane sensitivity was severe enough to kill him if someone wasn't careful. Wolfsbane grew wild in the region. It contaminated certain herbs, certain imported spices, certain cuts of meat from suppliers who didn't know better. I had built a whole system. Approved vendors. A checklist for every ingredient. A separate prep station. The kitchen staff knew the rules because I had trained them myself. Seraphina didn't know any of that. Seraphina had never cooked a meal in her life. I heard the head cook's frustrated voice carry down the hall. "We can't use the rosemary from that supplier—Luna Harper always said—" A pause. Then, quieter: "Where is Luna Harper?" I stared at the wall and said nothing. --- My parents found me an hour later. My father didn't knock. He just opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him like he owned the room. My mother followed, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes already doing that thing where they went soft and pleading before a single word was spoken. Arthur Gilbert looked at my two packed bags sitting by the wall. His jaw tightened. "Harper." His voice was low and controlled. The voice he used when he wanted to sound reasonable. "We need to talk." "Do we?" I didn't stand up. I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, my hands folded in my lap. He pulled the desk chair out and sat down across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The posture of a man about to deliver a very important lesson. "What happened in that hall today was painful. I understand that. But you need to think clearly right now. The pack alliance—" "Don't," I said. He blinked. "Harper—" "Don't tell me about the alliance." My voice was quiet. Completely flat. "Don't tell me about the pack. Don't tell me what I need to think about." My mother stepped forward, her expression pained. "Sweetheart, we're only trying to help you. If you make a scene, if you push back against Desmond publicly, it reflects on all of us. On the family. You don't want that." I looked at her. Really looked at her. The same woman who had handed me over to fill my sister's empty spot without asking if I was willing. Without asking if I was scared. Without asking anything at all. "He denied my pup," I said. Silence. "In front of the elders," I continued. "In front of the Beta and Gamma. He stood up there with Seraphina on his arm and called my child nothing. And you want me to accept that quietly to protect the family's standing." My father's eyes slid to the side. There it was. The tell. He couldn't hold eye contact when he was about to say something he knew was wrong. "It's complicated," he said. "Seraphina is back. The alliance can still be salvaged if—" "I'm done." I stood up. "I'm done being the one who holds things together while everyone else falls apart. I'm done making myself small so Seraphina can look bigger. I'm done." "You're being emotional," my mother said softly. "You're pregnant, your hormones are—" "Get out of this room." The words landed like a door slamming shut. My mother flinched. My father's face went red. "Harper, you will not speak to us like—" "I said get out." I held the door open. My hand wasn't shaking. "We're done talking." My father stood slowly. He straightened his jacket. He looked at me with the expression of a man who had just realized the piece he thought he controlled had stopped moving. He opened his mouth once, then closed it. Then he walked out. My mother followed, casting one last wounded look over her shoulder. I closed the door. I pressed my back against it and exhaled slowly. Down the hall, I could hear the distant sound of furniture being dragged across the floor. Seraphina, already redecorating the Luna suite. Already making it hers. The heavy, suffocating wave of her expensive floral perfume drifted faintly under the door, sweet and artificial and wrong. I pressed my palm to my stomach. The cedar and honey scent of the mate bond was already fading from my skin. Burning away, slow and quiet, like the last ember of a fire that had never really been allowed to burn.

I spent the next morning organizing my paperwork. I needed everything in order. The pack house was a mess without me, but I didn't care. Maren was quiet inside my mind, resting and protecting our tiny pup. I kept my hand resting gently on my stomach as I walked down the hall toward the administration office. As I passed the dining room, I heard voices. I stopped and peeked through the cracked double doors. Desmond sat at the head of the long table. He pushed a plate of half-eaten eggs away, rubbing his stomach with a grimace. He looked terrible. His usually vibrant, commanding Alpha aura felt weak and muddy. His skin was pale, and his dark hair lacked its usual shine. Even his wolf seemed to be suffering; I could feel the dull, heavy energy radiating from him. Beta Julian stood near the window, his arms crossed."The kitchen staff is struggling, Alpha," Julian said quietly."Without Harper managing the suppliers and the prep stations, the food quality is dropping. You've been having cramps all morning. You look sick." Desmond slammed his fist on the table. The silverware rattled."I am the Alpha!" he snapped, though his voice cracked slightly."I don't need her to hold my hand so I can eat a meal. It's just a mild stomach bug. Tell the kitchen to cook better, or I'll replace them all." Julian sighed, his face tight with frustration."It's not just the cooking, Desmond. It's the ingredients. You know your sensitivity to—" "Enough!" Desmond growled. He stood up abruptly, swaying for a brief second before catching his balance."Seraphina is my Luna now. She will handle it. I don't want to hear Harper's name again." I stepped away from the door. I didn't feel angry. I just felt tired. I turned and kept walking toward the administration office. I walked into the small, quiet room and placed a thick folder on the clerk's desk. It was a formal request for a severance meeting with the Pack Council. It included my demand for a clean break from the Silverfang Pack and a division of assets. Before the young clerk could even reach for the folder, a heavy hand slammed down on top of it. I didn't have to look up to know who it was. The smell of cheap cigars and nervous sweat gave him away. My father, Arthur. "What do you think you're doing?" Arthur hissed. He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me away from the desk. I yanked my arm out of his grip."Do not touch me," I said flatly. My voice was ice cold. Arthur's face turned red."You are embarrassing this family, Harper! You are throwing a tantrum. Withdraw this request right now. You will not drag the Gilbert name through the mud just because you are jealous of your sister." "I'm leaving," I said, staring him dead in the eye."I am cutting my ties with this pack. And with you." "I am your father, and I forbid this!" he raised his voice, stepping into my space to intimidate me."You will go back to your room, you will stay quiet, and you will accept your place!" "No, she won't." The deep voice made my father freeze. We both turned. Beta Julian stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were sharp. He walked past my father and gently picked up the folder from the desk. Arthur puffed up his chest, trying to salvage his pride."Beta Julian. Please excuse my daughter. She isn't thinking straight. Her hormones are acting up. I will handle her." Julian shook his head slowly."No, Arthur. You won't." Julian looked at me, his expression softening with a mix of pity and deep respect."Is this the severance request, Harper?" "Yes," I said clearly."I want a formal hearing with the council." Arthur panicked."Beta, you can't allow this! The Alpha—" "The Alpha is blind right now," Julian interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous low."But I am not. Harper served this pack faithfully for three years. She kept our Alpha alive. She earned the right to be heard by the council. I will push this through myself." My father turned pale. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He backed away, sweating profusely, realizing he had lost all control over me. I gave Julian a small, grateful nod. He nodded back, holding the folder tightly against his chest. That evening, the pack threw a massive celebration in the Great Hall. It was a welcome home party for Seraphina, officially presenting her as the chosen Luna. I stayed in my small guest room for most of the night, packing my final boxes. But eventually, the noise grew too loud, and I needed a glass of water. I walked out to the second-floor balcony that overlooked the main hall. I stayed in the shadows, watching the scene below. Music blasted from huge speakers. Seraphina was in the center of the room, wearing a sparkly, tight gold dress. She was laughing loudly, leaning heavily against Desmond. Desmond looked even worse than he had this morning. He was sweating through his expensive shirt. His posture was hunched, and his eyes looked glazed. But he forced a proud, arrogant smile for the cheering crowd, wrapping an arm around Seraphina's waist. Seraphina grabbed a skewer of grilled meat from a tray carried by a passing waiter. The bar food was catered by a cheap outside vendor. I knew that vendor. I had banned them from Silverfang territory two years ago because their spice mixes were heavily contaminated with wild wolfsbane. Even from the balcony, my enhanced senses caught it. A sharp, bitter, metallic scent hiding beneath the roasted meat and heavy spices. Wolfsbane. Maren growled low in my mind.*Let him eat it,* she whispered darkly.*Let him reap what he sows.* "Come on, Des!" Seraphina giggled loudly, making sure the entire room was watching her. She waved the skewer in front of his face."Show everyone how strong my Alpha is! The kitchen said this was too spicy for you. Prove them wrong. Eat it for me!" Desmond hesitated. I saw his nose twitch. His inner wolf was probably screaming at him to back away. But his pride was louder than his survival instincts. He looked at the crowd of pack members watching him. He looked at Seraphina's pouting, challenging lips. He wanted to show off. He wanted to prove he didn't need my careful, boring rules. Desmond opened his mouth, took the skewer, and bit the meat right off the stick. He chewed it quickly and swallowed. Seraphina clapped her hands, laughing."See? My big, strong Alpha!" It didn't take long. Three seconds later, Desmond froze. His eyes went wide, filled with sudden, blinding panic. He dropped his glass of whiskey. It shattered on the marble floor with a sharp crash. He clawed at his own throat. A terrible, wet choking sound ripped from his mouth. Then, he collapsed. Desmond hit the floor hard. His body instantly began to convulse. Thick, dark purple veins crawled up his neck and across his face. Foam bubbled at the corners of his mouth. Seraphina shrieked, dropping the empty skewer. She jumped back, her hands covering her mouth in horror, doing absolutely nothing to help him. The music abruptly cut off. Chaos erupted. Wolves shouted, pushing each other out of the way. Julian sprinted across the room, sliding to his knees beside the convulsing Alpha, yelling for the pack healer. I stood perfectly still on the balcony, looking down at the man who had thrown me and my pup away. I didn't feel panic. I didn't feel the urge to run down there and save him. My heart beat in a calm, steady rhythm. I turned around and walked back to my room in the quiet dark.

The screaming didn't stop when they carried him out of the Great Hall. It echoed down the long corridors of the pack house, all the way to the healer's ward. I didn't follow them immediately. I gave them thirty minutes. That was enough time for the initial chaos to settle into a grim reality. I stood in my guest room, listening to the frantic footsteps fading away. Then, I picked up my thick manila folder, rested my free hand gently over my flat stomach to shield my pup, and walked downstairs to the clinic. The ward smelled like burnt flesh, vomit, and pure panic. Desmond lay on the main sterile bed under bright, harsh lights. His skin was a nasty shade of gray. Dark, angry purple veins pulsed along his neck and jawline where the wolfsbane was literally burning his insides. He was sweating profusely, his chest heaving as he fought for every breath. "Do something!" Seraphina shrieked. She was standing in the far corner of the room, pressing a silk handkerchief over her nose. She refused to get anywhere near the bed. She wouldn't even look at the blood or the sick bowl on the floor."He's dying! Fix him! Give him an antidote!" Dr. Whitfield ignored her. He was frantically pushing an IV needle into Desmond's arm. Three pack elders stood near the door. They watched Seraphina with cold, hard eyes. A Luna was supposed to be the pack's mother. She was supposed to be steady in a crisis, holding her Alpha's hand, projecting strength and calm. Instead, Seraphina looked like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum because her favorite toy was broken. I stepped into the room. My footsteps were quiet, but the elders noticed me immediately. They quickly parted ways to let me through, their faces tight with shame. "Harper!" Seraphina gasped, her eyes going wide."Tell them to fix him! Tell them what herbs to use! You know this stuff!" I didn't look at her. I walked straight to the edge of Desmond's bed. Desmond's eyelids fluttered open. He looked up at me. His breathing was shallow and ragged. For a split second, a flicker of profound relief washed over his pale face. He thought I was there to save him. He thought I was there to manage the crisis, fix his mistakes, and wipe his forehead, just like I had for the last three years. I didn't reach for his hand. I didn't check his vitals. I opened my folder. I pulled out a thick stack of papers and dropped them directly onto his chest. "What... is this?" Desmond rasped. His voice sounded like crushed glass. "The formal rejection paperwork," I said. My voice was perfectly flat. Completely empty."And the severance agreement. It outlines the division of assets. Five million dollars, transferred from the pack accounts, as compensation for my three years of uncredited labor as your substitute Luna." Desmond stared at me. His chest heaved with a wet, rattling sound."I'm... dying... and you..." "You're not dying," I said calmly."Dr. Whitfield gave you the neutralizer. You will be in agonizing pain for the next week, and your inner wolf will be severely weakened, but you will survive." I tapped the top of the papers with my index finger."Sign these by tomorrow morning. I want my name off this pack registry before I leave." Desmond's eyes widened. The Alpha arrogance was completely gone, replaced by a deep, unsettling fear. He finally realized I wasn't playing a game. I wasn't trying to make him jealous. I was simply done. Maren didn't even whimper inside my mind. She just watched him burn. "Harper, please," Beta Julian whispered from the doorway. He looked exhausted."Not now." "Now," I said firmly. Before Julian could argue, the air in the room changed. It didn't just change. It vanished. A crushing, heavy pressure slammed into my chest. The temperature in the clinic plummeted. My knees felt weak, but not from grief. It was an instinctual, primal reaction to pure, ancient power. Behind me, the three elders hit the floor. Their knees slammed into the tiles with a sharp crack. Dr. Whitfield dropped his clipboard and bowed his head, his hands shaking violently. Even Desmond, weak and poisoned, let out a choked gasp as his inner wolf was forced into immediate, painful submission. Seraphina whimpered, sliding down the wall until she was curled in a pathetic ball on the floor. I turned around slowly. A man stood in the doorway. He was tall. Broader and much more muscular than Desmond. He wore a dark, tailored suit that looked incredibly expensive, but he didn't look like a businessman. He looked like a predator squeezed into human clothes. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his golden eyes glowed with an unnerving, predatory light. A Lycan. Not just any Lycan. The raw, suffocating aura rolling off him meant only one thing: Royalty. He didn't look at the elders groveling at his feet. He didn't look at the Alpha writhing in the bed. He didn't even glance at Seraphina sobbing in the corner. He looked only at me. He stepped into the room. The heavy pressure in the air eased just a fraction around me, giving me room to breathe while keeping everyone else pinned down. He stopped inches away from me. I had to tilt my head back to look into his glowing eyes. He leaned down slightly. His nose brushed past my jawline, hovering right over my unmarked scent gland. I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. He inhaled deeply. A slow, shuddering breath. "Wild jasmine," he murmured. His voice was a deep, rumbling vibration that sent a shockwave straight down to my toes."And rain." Desmond let out a weak, angry growl from the bed. His pride was trying to fight the Lycan's aura."Who... who are you? Get away from her." The Lycan didn't even turn his head. He kept his golden eyes locked on mine. A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. "I am Prince River Lewis," he said softly, though the whole room heard him perfectly."And I go exactly where I please." He reached up. His large, warm hand gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The casual intimacy of the touch made Desmond choke on another futile growl. "Hello, Harper," River whispered. His eyes softened, filled with an emotion so deep and intense it made my breath catch. I didn't know him. I had never seen this man in my life. But deep inside my mind, Maren didn't bare her teeth. She didn't growl or tell me to run. Instead, for the first time since my rejection, my inner wolf let out a soft, desperate purr.