"Elara, please." My mother’s voice broke through the phone speaker, choked with tears. "The healers told us his heart is failing. He’s in his final days. He just wants to see his eldest daughter once before he goes."

I stood in the sunlit parlor of the pack house, my hand resting over the heavy curve of my belly. Six months pregnant, and every kick felt like a reminder of the life growing inside me.

Beside me, Lucian took the phone from my hand and ended the call. His golden eyes were hard, the jawline tight with suspicion.

"It’s a trap, Elara," he said quietly. "Your family hasn't spoken to you in three years. Not when we mated, not when we took the northern territory, and not when our pregnancy was announced. Now, out of nowhere, Victor is dying?"

"I know," I murmured, staring at the floor. "I know how they are. But what if it’s true, Lucian? What if he’s actually dying, and I refuse to go?"

The guilt sat like a stone in my chest. No matter how cold Victor Quinn had been as an Alpha, he was still my father. If he took his last breath while I stayed away out of spite, I would carry that regret forever.

Lucian searched my face for a long moment before letting out a quiet sigh. He reached for my wrist, gently sliding the Queen Luna’s Moonsteel bracelet back into place. The metal was cool and heavy, snapping shut with a distinct click.

"Three days," Lucian said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Not an hour more. If anything feels off, if anyone crosses a line, press the crest on the clasp. My guards will be at the border, and I will be there in minutes."

"Three days," I promised.

The drive to the Silver Crest territory took four hours. By the time I reached the familiar wrought-iron gates of the pack house, dusk had settled over the trees.

I climbed out of the car, my back aching from the long ride. The pack house looked the same as it had when I left—imposing, gray stone, surrounded by towering pines.

I walked up the front steps and knocked on the heavy oak door.

I braced myself for the sight of grief. I expected a weeping mother, the smell of medicinal herbs, or a grim-faced healer preparing me for the worst.

The latch clicked. The door swung wide.

Standing in the entryway was Victor Quinn.

He wasn’t bedridden. He wasn’t pale or hooked to monitors. He was wearing an athletic shirt and training pants, a white towel draped around his neck. Sweat gleamed on his forearms, his breathing steady and robust from an evening workout.

I froze on the threshold, the blood rushing in my ears.

"Father?" The word barely made it past my lips.

Victor looked down at me, his eyes scanning my figure before settling on my rounded stomach. There was no warmth in his expression, only a familiar, cold assessment.

"You took your time getting here," he said, turning his back on me and walking toward the living room.

My mother emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of tea. When she saw me standing paralyzed in the doorway, she didn’t look guilty or ashamed. She set the tray on the coffee table with calm composure.

"You lied to me," I said, my voice shaking as I stepped inside. "You called me crying. You told me he was dying."

"If I hadn't said that, would you have come?" Mother asked, sitting on the sofa without looking at me. "Three years, Elara. Three years of silence. You married an Alpha, moved to the capital, and completely discarded your own blood."

"You cast me out!" My voice rose, the anger rising hot and fast. "You made it clear I wasn't welcome here the moment Lucian claimed me!"

Victor turned around, his brow furrowed in annoyance. "Watch your tone in my house. You owe this pack everything you have. You think because you wear a fancy bracelet and carry a strong pup that you’re above your family? You forgot where you came from the second you went to that man."

I stood there, my hands clenching into fists against my dress. The betrayal stung deeper than I wanted to admit. They hadn't wanted to see me. They had simply wanted to summon me like an obedient dog.

Before I could turn around and walk straight back to my car, light footsteps echoed down the staircase.

"Elara!"

Celeste bounded into the foyer. My younger sister looked radiant, her dark hair pinned up and a bright, dazzling smile across her face. Unlike my parents, she threw her arms around my shoulders in a tight embrace.

"You're finally here!" she squealed, pulling back just enough to look down. "Oh, Goddess, look at your belly!"

Before I could step back, Celeste placed both of her hands firmly over my stomach.

Her palms were warm, pressing against my dress with an intensity that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She didn't just touch; she stroked the curve of my bump, her fingers spreading wide as if measuring the shape.

"He's huge," Celeste whispered, her eyes wide with excitement. "How far along are you now? Twenty-four weeks? Have the doctors confirmed the gender? Does he have Lucian’s scent yet? Has the healer felt his core to see if he inherited the pure Alpha bloodline?"

The rapid barrage of questions felt intrusive, almost greedy.

I took half a step backward, dislodging her hands. "The pup is healthy, Celeste. That's all that matters."

"Of course it matters!" Celeste laughed, brushing off my reaction with an easy wave of her hand. "A strong bloodline is everything. Come on, you must be exhausted from the drive. I personally got your room ready for you."

She grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the stairs. I hesitated, glancing back at my parents. Victor had already picked up a pack ledger, ignoring me entirely, while my mother sipped her tea in silence.

Needing space to breathe and process the lie, I followed Celeste up to the second floor.

She led me down the long hallway toward the room that had belonged to me throughout my childhood. When she reached the door, she turned to me with a beaming grin.

"I made sure everything was perfect," Celeste said, pushing the door open.

I stepped inside, and the breath left my lungs.

My old bedroom was gone. The simple oak desk, the bookshelf, and the twin bed had all been cleared out.

In their place was an expansive, luxurious nursery.

The walls were painted a soft, muted cream. In the center stood an ornate crib crafted from polished white wood with silver accents. Shelves lined the far wall, filled with plush silver wolf toys, imported blankets, and rows of designer newborn clothes organized by month.

It was fully stocked, decorated with an obsessive level of detail.

I blinked, trying to make sense of the room. A sudden thought struck me. Celeste had always wanted a family of her own. Had she found a mate? Was she keeping a secret from the pack?

I turned to her, forcing a small, hesitant smile. "Celeste... are you expecting? Did you set this up for yourself? Why didn't you tell me? Congratulations."

Celeste stared at me for a second, then burst into light, melodic laughter.

"Me? Oh, Elara, no," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not pregnant."

She walked past me toward the crib. Reaching out, she gently ran her fingers over a set of carved wooden letters mounted securely on the wall right above the headboard.

I looked up at the wall.

The letters formed a name: *Cassian Cross*.

The name of Lucian’s ancestral bloodline.

Before I could speak, Celeste turned around and closed the distance between us. She reached out again, placing her hand flat against my stomach, pressing firmly against the fabric of my dress.

Her smile never faded, but her eyes were entirely fixed on my womb.

"He needs to get used to hearing his real name," Celeste said softly.

I looked down at her hand against my body, a cold chill spreading down my spine.

"What did you just say?"

I pulled back so sharply my spine hit the doorframe.

"Don't touch me," I said, my voice dropping into a harsh rasp. "What did you just say?"

Celeste didn't flinch. Her hands rested lightly against her own waist, her head tilting with an innocent sort of curiosity.

"I said he needs to know his name," she repeated smoothly. "Cassian Quinn Cross. It has a beautiful ring to it, don't you think?"

"His name is none of your business," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "And you will never touch my stomach again."

Heavy footsteps sounded on the hardwood stairs behind me. Victor stepped into the doorway, followed by my mother. Neither of them looked surprised by the nursery, the crib, or the silver lettering mounted on the wall.

They looked like investors inspecting a finished project.

"Stop acting hysterical, Elara," my mother said, stepping past me into the room. She smoothed her hand over the tailored crib sheets with quiet satisfaction. "Celeste has been married for two years without producing an heir. The elders are growing restless, and the Silver Crest bloodline cannot falter."

I stared at her, unable to fathom the words coming out of her mouth. "What does that have to do with my baby?"

"Everything," Victor said, his voice flat and commanding. "You are carrying a healthy male pup with strong Alpha lineage. Silver Crest needs an heir, and you are going to provide it."

A cold, sickening knot twisted in the pit of my stomach. "Are you out of your minds? This is Lucian's child. My child."

"It's the most sensible solution for everyone," Mother said, turning to face me. Her tone was completely matter-of-fact, as if she were explaining a simple financial transaction. "You are young and fertile. You can easily give Lucian another pup next year. But Celeste needs this child right now. She has a pack standing to maintain, while you are out in the northern territory doing nothing of value."

"You want me to just give you my son?" The words came out in a strangled gasp. "You faked a medical emergency, dragged me four hours from my home, just to steal my baby?"

"Steal is an ugly word," Mother snapped. "We are keeping the child in the family, where he belongs."

"I am leaving," I said, turning toward the hallway. "Right now."

Victor blocked the doorway with his broad frame, not moving an inch.

"You aren't going anywhere until you talk some sense into yourself," he said.

"Get out of my way, Victor."

My mother let out a sharp, dismissive laugh from behind me. "Look at you. Still playing the defiant daughter. Tell me, Elara, what makes you think you have any right to raise an Alpha pup?"

I froze, looking back at her.

"You can't even shift," Mother said, her eyes narrowing in disdain. "You're a defective wolf who couldn't trigger her own form, and you ran off to mate with an outcast who lives on the fringes. How do you expect to protect an Alpha heir when you can't even defend yourself?"

Every word was calculated to cut deep, dragging up years of childhood shame I had fought so hard to bury.

"Celeste can give him a Pack," Victor stated, his voice booming in the quiet room. "A father. A future. Real status among the council. What can you offer him out in the wilderness? A mother who breaks under pressure?"

Celeste stepped up beside me. Before I could pull away, her fingers brushed against the curve of my belly again, soft and mocking.

"Don't look at us like that, Elara," Celeste murmured, her voice dripping with counterfeit sweetness. "I'm not going to erase you. Once he's born and settled, you can visit whenever pack duties allow. He will always know you."

She paused, smiling right into my eyes.

"He'll know you as his favorite Aunt Elara."

Rage surged through me, hot and violent. I shoved her hands off me with enough force to send her stumbling back against the dresser.

"Don't you dare," I hissed. "You will never lay a hand on my child."

Celeste didn't get angry. Instead, a smug, venomous grin spread across her lips. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and tapped the screen before turning it toward me.

"You're a little late to stop this, sister," she said.

I looked down at the bright screen.

It was the pack's private social forum. At the top was a photo of Celeste holding a sonogram, surrounded by dozens of congratulatory comments from council members, pack elders, and family friends.

The caption read: *Blessed beyond words. My selfless sister Elara has agreed to carry our miracle pup as a surrogate. Silver Crest will have its heir.*

Below it, hundreds of pack members showered her with praise:

*What an incredible sacrifice by Elara.*

*Lady Celeste will make the most wonderful mother.*

*A true blessing for our territory!*

My chest tightened until I could barely draw air. The dates on the comments went back nearly three weeks.

"You planned this," I whispered, the full scope of the trap falling into place. "You told the entire pack I volunteered to be your surrogate."

"Of course I did," Celeste said, tucking her phone away. "Everyone knows how desperate I've been for a child. They know how generous you were to offer your womb. So if you run crying to the council or try to back out now, who do you think they'll believe?"

"They'll see you as unstable," Mother added coldly. "A jealous sister trying to tear apart Celeste's family after giving your word. The entire territory will stand behind Celeste."

They had built an airtight cage around me before I had even set foot across their border. If I fought them publicly in this territory, I would be painted as the villain who reneged on a sacred family promise.

I didn't say another word.

Arguing with them was useless. They weren't trying to persuade me; they had already decided my child was theirs to take.

I turned around, brushed past Victor's shoulder with all the weight I could muster, and marched down the hallway.

"Elara!" Victor barked behind me. "Get back here!"

I ignored him, taking the stairs as fast as my pregnancy allowed. I reached the entryway, grabbed my coat from the rack, and shoved the heavy front door open.

The cool night air hit my face, but it brought no relief.

I stepped onto the driveway and stopped dead in my tracks.

The gravel space where I had parked my sedan was empty.

"Looking for your keys?" Victor's voice came from the front porch. He stood at the top of the steps, his arms crossed over his chest. "I had Marcus move your car to the underground garage. You're far too agitated to drive back down the mountain tonight."

"Give me my keys," I demanded, spinning around to face him. "Now!"

"You're staying right here until the baby is delivered," Victor said evenly. "We have our own healers. You'll be taken care of."

Panic spiked in my chest. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my phone. My fingers shook as I searched for Lucian’s contact, desperate to hear his voice, desperate to give him our location.

Before I could press call, a hand clamped down on my wrist.

Mother ripped the phone out of my grip with a sudden, vicious yank.

"You're emotional," she said smoothly, slipping my phone into her own pocket. "Think about the baby. The radiation from these devices isn't good for him anyway."

"Give it back!" I lunged forward, but two massive pack guards stepped out from the shadows beside the porch.

They took their positions directly in front of the gate, their broad shoulders blocking the only path leading down the driveway. Their eyes were cold, locked onto me with unwavering obedience to Victor.

I stood trapped on the driveway, the cold mountain wind biting through my clothes.

My car was gone. My phone was gone.

They had never brought me here to visit a dying father.

They had brought me here to harvest my son.

They didn't take me back upstairs.

Instead, two guards flanked me down the east corridor of the estate and guided me straight into the pack healer wing. The suite was spacious and clean, but the heavy iron latch on the outside of the door made its true purpose obvious.

By the next morning, the story was already circulating among the household staff. Lady Elara had returned home exhausted from travel, suffering from prenatal fatigue, and required absolute bed rest under the care of pack healers.

When the door clicked open, Victor stepped inside, holding a clipboard with medical intake forms.

"I want my phone," I said, standing by the edge of the mattress. "I want my driver's license, my car keys, and my purse."

Victor didn't look up from the paperwork. "You'll get your personal effects back when your emotions settle and you start cooperating with this family."

"I am not a prisoner, Victor."

"You are an expectant mother who needs supervision," he replied, setting the board down on the small table near the window. "You'll stay in this wing until the delivery. The healers will monitor your vitals twice a day."

For years, I had shrunk under his gaze. I had apologized for things I never did, desperately trying to earn a shred of his approval.

This time, I didn't beg. I didn't cry.

I looked him straight in the eyes and kept my voice level and cold.

"My mate will come for me."

Victor stopped. For a second, the room was completely silent, and then a harsh bark of laughter broke from his chest.

"Your mate?" He shook his head, looking at me with genuine amusement. "That stray from the northern woods?"

He took a step toward me, his sneer deepening.

"Three years, Elara. In three whole years, that man has never set foot across my border. He never offered a formal bride price, never introduced himself to the Silver Crest council, and never showed his face to your parents. You ran off with an outcast who lives on frozen dirt."

"You know nothing about Lucian," I said through clenched teeth.

"I know he is a coward," Victor snapped. "He knows what Silver Crest represents. If he had any real power or lineage, he would have claimed you publicly. Instead, he hides in the north. He won't dare set foot on my land. And even if he showed up at my gates, my enforcers would tear him apart before he took three steps."

The door swung wider, and Celeste strolled in, carrying a vase of fresh white lilies. She set them on the bedside table and turned to me with an expression of manufactured pity.

"Victor is only being realistic, Elara," Celeste said softly. "You need to think about the reality of your situation. Even if your mate cared enough to look for you, what kind of life could he give this child?"

She smoothed down the front of her tailored blouse, tilting her head.

"Lucian lives like an exile. If he truly loved you, he would want his son to grow up with status, resources, and a respected name. A pup raised by a rogue in the wilderness is nothing. Here, he will be an heir to an established territory."

"He is not yours to claim," I said.

"He will be," Celeste replied with an easy, confident smile. "And deep down, you know it's for the best."

Victor gave a curt nod toward the door. "Rest, Elara. Breakfast will be brought in shortly."

They walked out together, and the heavy bolt slid shut from the exterior with a sickening thud.

I stood in the center of the room, my hands shaking. They had no idea who Lucian really was. They saw only what they wanted to see—an easy target to exploit.

I took a deep breath, forcing my racing pulse to slow. I needed to keep my strength. Lucian had given me three days, and I had to protect my baby until then.

I turned to the small duffel bag the guards had tossed onto the armchair. Unzipping the side pocket, I reached inside for the silver metal pill case.

My fingers brushed against empty fabric.

I pulled the bag open completely, dumping the contents onto the bed. My spare clothes and toiletries tumbled out, but the case was gone.

The pregnancy scent stabilizer was nowhere to be found.

Panic flared in my chest. Because I couldn't trigger my wolf form, my body struggled to naturally balance the potent Alpha scent Lucian had marked me with. During pregnancy, that bond scent intensified drastically. Without the daily stabilizer Lucian’s apothecary prepared for me, the hormonal imbalance could throw my system into severe distress.

I slammed my hand against the wooden door. "Open this door!"

The latch rattled, and the door swung open. My mother stood in the hallway, holding a fresh stack of towels.

"Where is my medication?" I demanded, blocking her path. "The silver case in my bag. Who took it?"

Mother pushed past me into the room, setting the towels on the dresser with irritating calm.

"I took it," she said.

"Give it back to me right now."

"I threw it into the incinerator," Mother replied, turning to look at me without an ounce of remorse. "Some unverified northern concoction in an unmarked tin? We have no idea what herbs or chemicals were in those pills. I'm not going to let you ingest random substances and poison Celeste's baby."

"That is my prescription!" I screamed, the rage tearing through my throat. "It's a stabilizer! Because I can't shift, my body can't regulate an Alpha's mating mark while pregnant! Without it, my scent receptors will collapse!"

Mother scoffed, waving her hand dismissively.

"You always were dramatic, Elara. You just want an excuse to cling to that rogue's scent. Our pack healers have overseen dozens of successful births. They will provide proper vitamins once you calm down."

"You don't understand what you just did—"

"Enough," Mother cut me off, her tone hardening. "Lie down and stop screaming. You're raising your blood pressure, and that isn't good for the child."

She turned around, stepped into the corridor, and pulled the door shut behind her. The lock engaged once more.

I leaned against the wall, my chest heaving as dread settled deep into my gut.

By nightfall, the consequences began.

It started with a dull ache in my lower back, followed by a sharp, burning heat spreading beneath my collarbone where Lucian’s mark rested. Without the medication to filter the intensity, my scent spiked violently, filling the small room with a heavy, unstable sweetness.

Then came the cramps.

A vicious, tightening pain gripped my lower abdomen, sharp enough to steal the air straight from my lungs.

"Ah!"

The agony pulled me down. My knees struck the hardwood floor as I doubled over, wrapping both arms around my stomach.

Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. My vision blurred around the edges, the room spinning as another contraction ripped through my belly.

"Help..." I gasped, trying to reach for the edge of the bed. "Someone... help me..."

The sudden surge of distress scent must have alerted the guards in the hall. The door flew open with a loud bang.

Footsteps rushed inside.

"Elara!"

Mother hurried into the room, dropping down onto her knees beside me.

For one fleeting, foolish fraction of a second, an old childhood memory flared in my mind. A tiny, desperate piece of me reached out toward her, hoping for a mother's comfort, hoping she would hold me and tell me everything was going to be fine.

Mother's hands clamped firmly onto my body.

She didn't look at my pale face. She didn't check my pulse, wipe the sweat from my brow, or look into my tear-filled eyes.

Her hands pressed hard against the tight curve of my belly, frantically feeling for movement.

"Is the baby okay?" she asked, her voice tight with panic as she stared down at my stomach. "Is he moving? Did you hurt the baby?!"

I looked up at her, my breath trembling in my throat.

The physical pain in my abdomen burned fiercely, but inside my chest, the last lingering ember of love I held for the woman who birthed me went completely cold.