“Rodriguez, please—not again." My voice cracked, barely a whisper. My claws scraped against the cold stone floor of our den, brittle from exhaustion. My body trembled where I lay, curled in on myself, my belly heavy with life.

He towered over me, shadows clinging to the bristles of his dark fur, amber eyes lit with something far from love.

"I can’t keep doing this," I said, breath hitching. "It’s killing me. It’s endangering our child."

Rodriguez’s gaze narrowed. The warmth that once lived there had long turned to ice. "She needs you," he said.

"No," I whispered, curling tighter around my womb. "She needs you. Not me. What about our baby? What about us?"

His eyes flicked to my side—just for a moment. I watched a flicker of conflict ripple through him. But then it was gone, crushed beneath duty or maybe guilt. Maybe love. Not for me. Never for me.

"The baby will survive," he said coldly. "Elisa needs your strength more."

Elisa.

The name tasted bitter, like blood in the mouth. She had been gone for seasons, thought dead. His first mate. She’d returned broken, all bone and fever, her beauty a ghost. And yet, to him, she was everything.

Since her return, I had ceased to matter.

Not a mate. Not even a wolf.

Just a vessel. A thing. Her food source.

“Please, Rodriguez.” My throat tightened. “I’ve already given too much. Three hunts this week. I’m empty. I can’t keep feeding her. It’ll kill me.”

His lip curled. “Stop being selfish.”

The word struck like claws across my chest.

I gasped, stumbling back. My legs buckled, but before I could fall, he caught me by the scruff and dragged me out into the cold night.

Moonlight painted the clearing in silver-blue. Elisa lay among the leaves, her white fur matted, her frame skeletal. She didn’t even lift her head as we approached. She didn’t need to.

The pack healer, Maya, stood nearby, her eyes sharp as broken glass. “Alpha,” she said, voice low, “Anna is weak. She shouldn't be here.”

“She’ll survive,” Rodriguez growled. “Do it.”

I dropped to the ground, too tired to fight anymore. Maya hesitated—just a breath—but then she came forward. Her muzzle brushed my neck like an apology, and then I felt her bite. Not to wound, but to open the flow.

The pain was brief.

The draining was not.

My life slipped out of me in a slow, crawling tide. Warmth, strength, soul—all of it leaking into the earth beneath Elisa’s frail form.

“Rodriguez…” I whispered. “Please… I can’t…”

But he was already gone, mentally. Watching Elisa. Always Elisa.

The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was the way his eyes lit up when she stirred.

I woke up in a hospital bed, too clean, too cold. Antiseptic stung my nose, but beneath it was something darker. Familiar. Primal. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, restless.

Rodriguez wasn’t there. Not once since I’d collapsed had he come. But his scent lingered—just not here. It reeked down the hallway, soaked into Elisa’s room like rot. I heard the nurses whisper. He stays with her. He sleeps by her side.

And I—his wife, his mate—lay here, forgotten.

Our child, our children—forgotten.

I curled my fists, ignoring the IV needle pinching my skin. The wolf inside me clawed against the surface, screaming. I held her back. Barely.

The door opened.

Not him. Just a nurse. Young, kind, oblivious.

“Mrs. Milford, your prenatal check-up is this afternoon.”

I nodded.

She left.

An hour later, I called him. Stupid, stupid hope.

He answered. His voice, sharp. “What?”

“Rodriguez, it’s me,” I said. “The baby’s check-up—can you come?”

A pause.

Then: “I’m busy.”

A soft laugh, Elisa’s laugh, filtered through the background.

“Just go alone,” he said. “Elisa needs me.”

I swallowed the scream rising in my throat. “This is important.”

“So is Elisa’s health.”

Click.

Silence.

My hands trembled. Not from weakness. From rage.

At the clinic, the screen blinked to life as the sonographer ran the wand across my belly.

“You’re having twins,” she said softly.

Twins.

I should have felt joy. I should have cried. But all I felt was the weight of Rodriguez’s betrayal pressing on my chest like stone.

Once she delivers the baby, I’ll get rid of her.

I had overheard him.

That night.

Like I was nothing.

My wolf rose, teeth bared inside me.

The sonogram picture trembled between my fingers.

Two heartbeats.

Two lives.

Not his gifts to take.

Not hers to claim.

The air outside the clinic was hot and metallic, like blood and rust. I pressed a hand against my belly as I walked, feeling them shift inside me—my babies. Mine.

Back at the den, I moved quietly, like prey. Not out of fear—but calculation. Something inside me had changed. I was done begging.

Rodriguez was waiting when I returned. Leaning against the frame of the den, arms crossed, jaw tight. The moment he saw me, his eyes flicked to my stomach. He knew. Somehow, he knew.

“Twins,” he said flatly.

I said nothing.

He pushed off the wall. “Good. Elisa will be pleased.”

The words landed like claws across my chest.

“Pleased?” I asked, voice low. Dangerous.

He stepped closer. “She’s always wanted pups.”

“They’re not hers.”

His gaze hardened. “They will be. You’re not fit to raise them.”

There it was. Finally, the rot beneath the fur. Not even disguised. He wasn’t pretending anymore.

I met his stare. “You want me to bleed for her. Birth for her. And then what? Just vanish?”

“You’ve always been unstable,” he said. “Emotional. You fainted from one feeding.”

“One?” I laughed, bitter and hollow. “You made me feed her like a dying queen while your child withered inside me.”

Rodriguez’s jaw twitched. “This isn’t about you anymore.”

“You’re right. It’s about them.”

I stepped back. His body tensed, expecting resistance. He didn’t understand—he hadn’t noticed I was no longer pleading.

“I’m their mother. I will never let her have them.”

He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

That night, I didn’t sleep.

I pretended to.

Rodriguez left after midnight, silent as shadow. But I was already dressed. Already waiting.

I followed him.

The trees swallowed his scent at times, but I knew where he was going. Elisa’s resting place—deep in the grove where the pack’s sick were isolated.

I crouched behind a fallen birch, the bark cold and damp against my palm.

Their voices carried low through the hush of trees.

“She’s breaking,” he said. “The birth will be soon.”

Elisa’s voice was fainter, raw. “I want them, Rodriguez. I can still give them what she can’t.”

“You will,” he said. “After she delivers… Maya will handle the rest.”

The betrayal wasn’t what broke me.

It was how easy it came to him.

I turned back before I heard more. I didn’t need details.

He planned to rip them from me like fruit off a branch.

My life was complicated. I needed to see Maya and ask questions. Maya didn’t open her door when I knocked.

She knew it was me. I could hear her pacing inside, the soft creak of aged floorboards under her paws.

“You’re putting yourself in danger,” she said through the wood.

“So are you, if you wait too long,” I answered.

Silence stretched between us like a pulled thread. Then, the door eased open.

She looked older than I remembered. Or maybe I was just seeing clearly now. Tired eyes, cautious shoulders. She motioned me inside.

“You need to rest,” she murmured, already reaching for the poultice jar.

“I need to know,” I said. “Why does he hate me?”

Maya stopped.

The question hung in the air. It wasn’t sudden. It had lived in me for moons. Beneath every silence, every snapped command, every time he looked at me like I was something he had to tolerate.

She didn’t meet my eyes. “Because he never wanted you.”

“That much I figured.”

“No,” she said, quietly, “you don’t understand. He was ordered to marry you. By the former Alpha.”

I sat slowly. The stone beneath me was cold. “My father.”

Maya flinched. “The one who adopted you, yes. You were a gift to the pack. Found after a rogue attack, barely alive. No memory. He raised you like his own.”

She sat across from me. “When he died, you were barely of age. Rodriguez was chosen to lead, but the Council feared backlash from old loyalties. The Alpha’s daughter—his adopted daughter—had to remain close to the line. So Rodriguez married you.”

“A political bond,” I whispered.

“An obligation. He resented it from the beginning.”

I thought of the cold glances. The dismissive touch. The way he only softened when Elisa’s name was spoken.

Maya’s voice dropped. “He never forgave you for being forced into his life. You weren’t the mate he chose. You were the symbol he had to uphold.”

“And now that Elisa is back…”

“He’s trying to rewrite the past.”

A slow breath left my lungs. The air tasted metallic. I felt nothing for a moment. No heartbreak. Just understanding. A horrible, perfect understanding.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I asked.

“Because,” she said, “you deserve to leave with your sanity intact.”

Later that night, Rodriguez found me.

I was outside, under the pines, my body numb with ache and instinct.

“You’ve been busy,” he said behind me.

I didn’t turn. “So have you.”

His steps crunched closer. “Maya speaks too freely.”

“Not freely enough.”

He circled me. There was no pretense now. No gentleness. Just calculation. Cold eyes and clenched jaw.

“You want the truth?” he asked. “Fine. You were a burden. You still are.”

I stared at him.

“You think I wanted to waste years beside a girl who couldn’t even remember where she came from? The Council wanted to preserve your father’s legacy. So I played the role.”

“And Elisa?” I asked.

“Elisa is mine. She always was. She was supposed to be Luna. She was taken from me—and then they gave me you to patch the hole.”

Each word landed like a stone. But I didn’t flinch. Not this time.

He leaned in. “This was never about love. It was about keeping you quiet, obedient. Useful.”

“And now you want to give my children to your sick ex-mate like a parting gift?”

He didn’t deny it.

“You’ll lose the pack,” I said.

He laughed. “You think they care? Half of them already follow Elisa’s scent like she’s some wounded saint.”

“You’re afraid of me now,” I said, stepping closer.

His eyes narrowed.

“I’m not the girl they forced into your bed. I’m not your burden. I’m a mother. And I’ll die before I let you touch them.”.

The feeding came before dawn.

Always before dawn—when the world was quiet, and screams could be swallowed by the fog.

I was dragged from sleep by the sharp tug of my arm, IV already set. Maya didn’t speak this time. Her eyes were tired, her hands trembling.

“Don’t,” I whispered.

She didn’t meet my gaze.

The hallway outside Elisa’s chamber smelled of bitter roots and old blood. The guards stationed at the door didn’t bother to hide their contempt. I was no longer the Luna. I was a vessel, a donor, a thing.

Inside, the room was lit with low firelight. Elisa lay reclined on furs, her thin form shrouded in soft blankets. Her eyes gleamed as I entered, hollow and sharp like a predator who hadn’t had to chase her prey in weeks.

"Anna," she said, all sweet warmth, like syrup on poisoned meat. "You look tired."

I didn’t answer. I was too focused on staying upright. The twins stirred beneath my ribs, uneasy.

Rodriguez stood by the hearth, arms crossed. He didn’t look at me. Not even once.

Maya motioned me to kneel. I obeyed, only because I had no strength to fight.

Elisa’s fingers brushed my hair. “You’ve been such a blessing,” she murmured. “So… giving.”

I wanted to rip her throat out.

But I stayed still as Maya opened the vein beneath my skin and held the chalice beneath it.

The room tilted. Elisa’s breath quickened. Her lips parted in hunger. She drank slowly—almost lovingly—from the warm bowl, her throat working in silence.

I watched the blood disappear from my body and into hers.

And in that moment, I saw it.

The lie behind her eyes.

She didn’t just need me weak. She wanted me gone.

Later, as I lay on the cold cot in the infirmary, barely conscious, I heard them whispering.

Elisa and Maya. Or at least I thought it was Maya—until the second voice laughed, soft and low.

“She’s breaking,” Elisa said. “Soon, she’ll slip. Her mind is already fraying.”

“Not fast enough,” the voice responded. I didn’t recognize it—one of the lesser healers, maybe. One of Elisa’s silent shadows.

“She’s carrying his heirs. Do you think I’ll let her survive that?”

“What if they come out strong?”

“Then I’ll nurse them. Raise them. And when they’re old enough to understand, I’ll teach them how their real mother begged me to spare her.”

They both laughed.

The sound made my bones vibrate.

That night, I didn’t sleep.

I couldn’t.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elisa with blood on her lips and my children in her arms.

The plan was clear now. Rodriguez would let me bleed until there was nothing left. And Elisa would step into the light, reborn as the mother of wolves.

My death wasn’t a side effect.

It was the point.

The smell of iron was permanent now. It clung to my skin, the sheets, even my breath. I barely recognized the sound of my own heartbeat—slow, soft, as if it too was tired of fighting.

The infirmary lights buzzed overhead, their glow sharp against the hollows of my cheeks. I hadn’t walked in two days. My limbs were weightless, not in grace, but in emptiness. The twins inside me shifted less. They seemed to sense it. The fading.

Maya stood at the foot of my bed, arms crossed over her chest. Her gaze lingered on the translucent veins beneath my skin, the bluish tint along my fingers. She looked older than usual. Not because of time, but guilt.

"She needs rest, Rodriguez," Maya said, her voice firm but low. "A week at least. Maybe two. Her blood pressure is collapsing. She's losing too much, too fast."

Rodriguez stood across the room, near the shuttered window. His expression didn’t shift. Cold, unreadable, as always.

"You told me she'd survive," he said.

"Not like this." Maya took a step forward. "She's an hour from organ failure. You keep draining her, and she won’t even make it to the birth."

"Elisa needs the nourishment."

Maya flinched, barely.

"Elisa is stable now. Gaining weight. Strength returning. But Anna—she's fading."

"Then do something about it. That’s your job, isn’t it? Keep her alive until she delivers."

"She’s not livestock, Rodriguez."

He finally turned. "No. She's a means to an end. She always has been."

My fingers twitched on the sheet. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the tray at the wall, claw my way out. But I couldn't move. Not really. The ache had settled into my marrow.

Maya was quiet for a long moment. Then, "She hears you, you know. Every word you say. Every time you refer to her like she's less than your mate."

Rodriguez stared at me. "She's not my mate. Never was."

His voice didn’t carry rage. It was worse than that. It carried indifference.

Maya pressed her hands to her temples. "You think you're in control, but you’re not. You’re making enemies in every shadow."

Rodriguez didn't answer.

"Anna has more loyalty in this pack than you realize. When she dies, it won't be quiet."

"She won't die," he said flatly. "Not until she's done."

Maya's jaw clenched. She walked toward the bed and checked my pulse, though we both knew it wasn’t for the records. She needed the touch. A silent apology, maybe.

My lips parted. It took more effort than it should have. "Don’t... beg him, Maya."

Her eyes found mine, startled.

"He won’t give mercy. He doesn’t have it."

Rodriguez made a sound behind us—a half scoff, half exhale.

"Then why keep fighting?" Maya whispered.

"Because my babies deserve better than to come into this world under her breath."

Rodriguez stepped closer. "She saved your life, Anna."

I laughed, dry and ragged. "No. She marked it for death. And you’re letting her finish the job."

For a second—just a second—his expression shifted. A flicker of something human.

Then it was gone.

"Rest her, then," he said to Maya. "Three days. No more. After that, if she can breathe, she can bleed."

Maya exhaled shakily.

He turned and left, boots echoing down the hall.

Night came like a shroud. I drifted in and out, dreams mixing with memories, and sometimes I couldn’t tell which was worse. I saw my father’s face, blurry now. The man who took me in. The man who gave me to this pack, thinking it would protect me.

I felt the touch of the twins again, subtle, fluttering. Alive.

"Hold on," I whispered. "Just hold on."

Outside, the wind howled through the trees.

But inside me, something else howled back.

The moon hung swollen in the night sky, casting silver light over the stone corridors of the den. The walls breathed with ancient secrets, damp with old blood and betrayal. I lay curled on the infirmary bed, unable to move, the weight of my own body a coffin.

Outside the door, their voices cut through the quiet.

“She should’ve never carried them,” Elisa hissed. “You know what they mean.”

Rodriguez’s voice followed, low and sharp. “I didn’t plan it. The heat came early. I needed to claim her to keep the elders quiet. That was all she was ever meant to be—a placeholder. The adopted stray of a dead Alpha.”

“You should’ve let her die the first time,” Elisa said, venom lacing her words. “You’re too sentimental.”

A short, bitter laugh from him. “Sentiment? I would’ve gutted her myself if it wouldn’t have made the Council suspicious. Hell, if you could stomach raw flesh, I’d carve her up now and feed you her heart.”

Something inside me splintered. Not from grief, but clarity. The illusion shattered. The man I once believed had chosen me was nothing but a mask for hunger.

Elisa’s footsteps drew closer. I shut my eyes, slowing my breath.

“She’s still strong,” she said quietly. “Even now, there’s too much fight in her blood. I can taste it in every drop Maya gives me.”

“You’re jealous,” Rodriguez replied. “You feel it too. The twins inside her—they carry something ancient. Power. That’s why you want them gone.”

“No,” Elisa growled. “I want them dead because they’re hers.”

The silence that followed cracked like ice over a river.

“I’ll deal with it,” Rodriguez said finally. “When the time comes, we’ll say she died during birth. The pack will grieve, then forget. Just like they forgot her parents.”

I couldn’t stop the low snarl that slipped from my throat. My body trembled from the effort, but I forced my eyes open, forced the truth into the air.

“You don’t get to write my death,” I rasped. “Not while I still draw breath.”

Rodriguez stepped into the room. The hatred in his gaze was no longer hidden. It bloomed freely now, like rot.

“You should’ve stayed a mystery,” he said. “You were easier to control when you didn’t know who you were.”

“Even broken wolves bite,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Elisa tilted her head. “And yet, you lie there like meat. Pathetic.”

“I’ll remember those words when your bones are ash beneath my feet.”

Rodriguez lunged forward, gripping the rails of the bed. “You think you’ll survive this? You think the pack would believe you over me? You’re an orphaned mongrel. They only tolerated you because of your bloodline.”

“But it’s my blood keeping your precious Elisa alive,” I spat.

He leaned closer, the stench of his breath heavy with disdain. “Not for long. Maya’s running out of reasons to protect you. When you deliver, I’ll make sure Elisa gets everything she needs. Everything. Even if it means tearing it from you.”

The door creaked, and Maya entered. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene. “Enough,” she snapped. “Out. Both of you.”

Rodriguez didn’t move.

“I said out!” Maya’s voice thundered like an elder’s roar.

Reluctantly, they stepped back. Elisa gave me one last glance—calculated, cold. “We’ll finish this soon, Anna.”

They left.

Maya closed the door and locked it. Her hands were shaking.

“He means it,” she whispered. “They both do.”

“I know.”

“We need to move you. Tonight. Before they come again.”

I stared at her, my body barely holding together.

“Then do it,” I said. “Get me out.