Stella’s POV

That night, sleep abandoned me like a fickle ghost, leaving me adrift in a darkness that pulsed with secrets. I lay on the edge of our bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, though my wolf painted the truth clearer than sight. The air reeked of betrayal, a sour tang beneath the sandalwood musk of my mate. Alpha Travis’s breathing was steady but shallow, and my wolf caught every tremor of his heartbeat. At midnight, like a predator, he slipped from the bed, the weight of his body lifting, cold emptiness spreading across the sheets.

I kept my eyes closed, breath even, as the door clicked shut. My claws threatened to pierce my palms where I gripped the blanket. Silence pressed in, broken only by the faint thrum of the Stormfang Pack’s heartbeats beyond the walls and, sharper still, his voice tangled with Lorie’s laugh down the corridor. It cut through me like silver.

My hand drifted to my stomach, pressing against the faint swell beneath my nightgown. Life pulsed there, our child. He would never know. He had forfeited that right the moment his loyalty turned elsewhere. A true Alpha protects, claims, and shields his mate. Travis had abandoned me in my own den, crawling to another like a thief.

The night dragged like an open wound, my wolf pacing beneath my skin. The moon hung fat and silver above the horizon, casting pale light through the window. It should have soothed me, but tonight it sharpened my isolation.

When dawn bled gray across the room, Alpha Travis returned wearing a smile unworthy of an Alpha. It was the smile of a traitor who thought his sins invisible. He smelled of her; Lorie’s perfume clung to him like a brand, and my wolf recoiled, snarling inside my chest.

“Stella,” he said carefully, the way a man might approach a sleeping beast, “we need to talk.”

The way his voice curled around those words twisted my gut. “What now?” I asked, my tone sharp as a clawed strike.

He hesitated before clearing his throat. “Lorie… she shouldn’t be cramped in the guest room. She’s pregnant. She needs space and comfort.”

For a moment, the room tilted around me, my wolf’s snarl rising in my chest like thunder. “Comfort?” I repeated the word tasting bitter.

He nodded, oblivious to the storm gathering behind my eyes. “Yes. The master bedroom is bigger and more comfortable. It makes sense for her to have it.”

I released a laugh that was half disbelief, half snarl. “You want me to give up my bedroom… to Lorie?”

His jaw tightened. “It’s not forever. Just until the baby is born.”

I stared at him, fighting the wild urge to rip into his throat. My wolf clawed at my insides, screaming to reveal the truth, that I, too, was pregnant. That my pup deserved protection, not Lorie’s bastard. But my human side kept the secret locked behind my teeth. Alpha Travis didn’t deserve to know. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

He continued, as though speaking to a subordinate. “Stella, you’ve been enjoying the comfortable room for years. Lorie is pregnant. Shouldn’t she be the one most comfortable now? Don’t you think it’s time you made a little sacrifice for your best friend?”

I pressed my lips together until they bled, my claws digging crescents into my palms. What was the point of arguing? In a day, I would be gone from this cursed house, my scent erased from these halls.

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice shaking like leaves in a storm.

His shoulders relaxed with a sigh of relief. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across my forehead, but the touch felt like ash. The wolf inside me snarled so loudly it echoed in my skull, and I had to resist the urge to flinch.

“Alpha Travis?” Lorie’s voice floated down the hallway, dripping with false sweetness.

He turned to leave immediately.

“Hold on, Alpha Travis,” I said calmly, my voice a silk veil over steel. “I need your signature on something.”

I forced my hands to stay steady as I picked up the folder I had prepared the night before.

“It’s just some minor paperwork,” I said softly, cutting off his impatient protest.

He narrowed his eyes, but Lorie called again, and his resolve cracked. “Fine. Give it here,” he snapped.

He didn’t even glance at the words before scrawling his signature across the page. My heart pounded like a war drum as I accepted the folder back. He had no idea what he had just signed, our severance, our undoing.

“Is that all?” he grunted.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He was gone before I could even inhale again, his scent trailing behind him like a wound.

I dialed my lawyer immediately. “My divorce from Alpha Travis is finalized. Pull out all my support and investment from Stormfang Enterprise.”

For years, I had been his silent benefactor, the unseen she-wolf holding up his fragile empire. Now, all of it would collapse without me. A humorless laugh escaped me as I returned to packing.

Minutes later, Lorie appeared in the doorway, her aura slick with smugness, though her voice was coated in honey. “Stella, let me help,” she cooed.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes; it never had. I had seen that same smile when she comforted me after Joan’s death, when she whispered lies into my grieving ear.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” I said, forcing a smile.

She glided in anyway, a predator disguised as prey. Her gaze flicked to the dresser where Joan’s things still rested untouched.

“Careful, don’t go there,” I snapped, my wolf’s growl bleeding into my voice.

Her smile widened. She picked up the snow globe, a delicate thing with a tiny ballerina dancing inside, Joan’s favorite. It had soothed me through countless nights of grief, the only thing keeping my wolf’s rage at bay.

“This is pretty,” Lorie said softly, tilting it back and forth. “It belonged to Joan, right?”

My chest ached. “Yes. Put it down.”

Her eyes gleamed with malice. “Oops,” she said, and released it.

The globe shattered on the floor, water spilling like blood, the ballerina broken in two.

“Oh no,” Lorie gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in mock horror. “I’m so sorry, Stella. My fingers are so clumsy these days. Pregnancy brain, you know?”

Her eyes danced with glee as she watched me, waiting for the wolf to surface.

I dropped to my knees, gathering the pieces with shaking hands, shards slicing my skin as tears blurred my vision. “It was her favorite,” I whispered, the words a broken howl.

Lorie crouched beside me, her smile sharp as a fang. “Don’t worry, Stella. You’ll have more children. You’ll move on.”

My chest burned as I lifted my gaze to her. In that moment, the fragile restraint I had clung to all night splintered like the snow globe in my hands. My wolf rose, no longer willing to be caged.

And then, I snapped.

Stella’s POV

My hands trembled as I cradled the broken ballerina in my palms, blood from my cuts dripping over the shards. The scent of iron and grief mingled with Lorie’s perfume, and my wolf’s hackles bristled. Something split inside me, a fracture tearing through the fragile barrier between my human heart and the wolf’s fury. “You bitch,” I snarled, my voice guttural, laced with a growl that no longer belonged to a woman but to the beast beneath my skin. Lorie tilted her head, that sweet smile still painted on her lips, the same one that had once tricked me into calling her friend. “Stella, calm down. It was an accident-” The word seared like silver in my veins. My body moved before thought could catch it, claws half-sprung, my hand slashing across her face. The strike cracked through the room like thunder. Lorie staggered back, clutching her cheek, her mask slipping, disbelief widening her eyes. She had never expected me to bare my fangs. “You don’t touch her things!” I roared, voice torn raw, no longer human. My eyes burned molten gold as the wolf bled through, gaze fixed and unrelenting. “You don’t destroy the one piece of her I had left-” “Stella!” Alpha Travis’s voice boomed from the doorway like a command meant for a subordinate wolf. He stormed into the room, his face a mask of rage as he rushed to Lorie, pulling her into his arms like she was the victim. “She hit me,” Lorie whimpered, tears shimmering in her eyes as she pressed herself against his chest. Her voice trembled, but her scent betrayed her; there was no fear, only the sweet, sharp tang of victory. I stood there, chest heaving, clutching the broken ballerina as shards bit into my skin. The wolf inside me wanted blood. Alpha Travis’s face hardened, his eyes burning with fury. “What the hell is wrong with you, Stella?” “She broke Joan’s snow globe!” I cried, pointing at the shattered glass on the floor. “She did it on purpose, Travis. She-” “Stop it!” he barked, his Alpha voice cracking like a whip, full of venom and dominance. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re pathetic! Bitter! Jealous of a pregnant woman, jealous of your best friend who has what you don’t have!” His words sliced into me like claws. But he wasn’t finished. “It’s not her fault you don’t have a child, Stella. Joan is dead, and maybe if you had been a better mother, maybe if you had done more-” A scream tore out of my throat before he could finish. It was a sound so wild and unhinged it made even him flinch. “Don’t you dare blame me, you bastard!” He growled back at me, his own wolf surfacing, but before I could blink, his hand lashed out. The slap landed with such force that my head snapped to the side, a shockwave ringing in my ears. My knees buckled and I crumpled to the floor, my cheek burning, my wolf howling inside me. Tears stung my eyes, not from the pain, but from the humiliation, the betrayal, the primal insult of being struck by my own mate. Lorie gasped theatrically, pressing her hands against her mouth as if horrified, but only I could see the flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. She loved this. My hands trembled as I touched my burning cheek. The golden glow of my wolf shimmered at the edges of my vision. Alpha Travis stood frozen, breathing hard, his palm still half-raised. His eyes widened, regret flickering for a heartbeat before Lorie’s voice cut through. She broke into sobs, clutching her belly like an actress on stage. “Oh, Alpha Travis,” she cried, collapsing against his chest. “This is all my fault. I never should’ve come here. I’ve caused nothing but trouble. Stella was right… I don’t deserve to live.” Her sobs were dramatic, fake, but Alpha Travis was blind when it came to her. She buried her face into his chest, sobbing harder. “I should just die and take this baby with me. Then you’ll both be free.” Alpha Travis’s shock twisted into panic. He held her tightly, stroking her hair. “Don’t say that, Lorie. Don’t ever say that. You and the baby are everything. You hear me? Everything.” I stared from the floor, my heart breaking, my wolf’s growl building into a rumble in my chest. Lorie’s tears weren’t real. The triumph in her eyes glowed like coals, but Alpha Travis, my mate, my husband, the wolf who once swore to shield me from everything, who vowed never to leave my side, believed her. He glared down at me, his arms holding Lorie tighter. “Look what you’ve done, Stella. Look at her. She’s terrified, blaming herself, because of you.” “Because of me?” My voice cracked, my claws threatening to pierce my palms. “But-” “Enough!” Alpha Travis barked, his face hardening into stone, his eyes blazing with Alpha fury. “I can’t even recognize you anymore. You’re out of control.” I opened my mouth, but Lorie released another weak sob, clutching her stomach like she was in pain. “Travis,” she whispered, pale and trembling, “the baby… it hurts.” His panic deepened. He looked at Lorie, pale and shaking, then at me with venom. “You’re staying in here until you think about your actions,” he snapped. His voice was final, cold, Alpha-command strong. I froze. “What?” “You heard me.” He wrapped his arms around Lorie, guiding her toward the door. “I won’t let you hurt Lorie or this baby. Not again.” The door slammed shut, and I heard the lock click from outside. “No!” I screamed, throwing myself at the door. My fists pounded against it until my hands throbbed. “Travis! Don’t you dare leave me in here! Open this door!” Silence. I yanked at the handle, but it didn’t budge. “Travis!” I shouted again, my voice cracking. “Please! You can’t do this!” But he didn’t come back. I was on the top floor. No way out but the locked door and the barred window. Minutes bled into hours. I screamed until my voice was hoarse, called Alpha Travis’s phone again and again until he blocked my number, cutting me off entirely. My body ached, my stomach growled, my throat burned. No food, no water. This wasn’t a bedroom anymore. It was a cage. I clawed at the door until my nails broke, leaving bloody streaks on the wood. I begged, cursed, prayed, my voice collapsing into whispers. And somewhere in that endless silence, my wolf rose. I could feel her clawing against my ribcage, pressing against my skin, howling to the moon beyond the barred window. The bond between my human pain and my wolf’s fury began to snap like threads in a storm. They thought they could lock me away. They forgot what I was. A wolf cannot be caged.

Stella’s POV

Time is a funny thing when the world narrows to a single, hot point of pain. I lost track of how long I lay on that cold floor before the latch clicked and the door sighed open. Alpha Travis filled the frame like a shadow, tall, perfectly put together, expression carved from contempt. “You should thank Lorie,” he said, as if granting a mercy. “If it wasn’t for her, you’d still be rotting in here. She begged me to let you out. For the sake of your friendship with her.” His words were knives. My throat tightened, but the wolf beneath my ribs, the old thing with moonlight in her eyes, curled her lips. Blankness was survival. “Oh, how noble of her,” I croaked, voice rough from disuse. He flicked a frown at my sarcasm, stepped aside, and I stumbled out. Legs are jelly, threatening to fold. He offered no hand. He never did. “Make sure you’ve cleared out everything from this room before tomorrow,” he said, cold as winter, and left me in the hallway, his cologne and cigarette smoke hanging like a threat. Humiliation burned hotter than any fever. My chest ached beyond bruises. Hate rose where fear once lived. The wolf’s heartbeat mirrored mine, low, patient. Soon. -- Later, Lorie swept in like a queen claiming a ruined throne. She carried a bowl of soup like charity, set it down with a practiced sigh. “You should eat. You look terrible.” I kept packing. Each item folded into a box felt like a small victory: a shirt, a photograph, a plate. She tutted. “You can deceive Alpha Travis, but not me,” she said, soft and venomous. “I see it in your eyes. You know the truth.” I paused, thumb on the tape. Her words slithered on. “How does it feel? Knowing he sacrificed your daughter for me?” Surgical. Deliberate. I turned my back and kept working. She wanted a scene, a crack, proof of her lie. When she couldn’t get it, she manufactured one, a loud thud, a theatrical gasp. “Alpha Travis!” she screamed. I bit down on something to stop laughter from bubbling, the absurdity of it all. As expected, heavy footsteps hammered the corridor. The door burst open. Alpha Travis filled it like thunder. “What happened?!” Lorie had already crafted tears. “She slammed my head against the wall!” she sobbed, each syllable oiled for effect. “I came to give her food! I was just trying to help, and she hit me!” I turned, stunned. “That’s not true, I didn’t-” Before my protest left my mouth, his fist found my face. The world contracted to a single flare. Pain exploded behind my eyes. Copper coated my tongue. My body slid down the wall in a shuddering heap. He was on me in a heartbeat, anger alive in every muscle. “Are you insane?!” he roared. “You touch her again, and I swear-” “I didn’t touch her,” I breathed through blood and salt. A kick doubled me over, air stolen from my lungs. I clutched in my abdomen, and something inside me clenched in sympathy, a small, fragile thing that had been growing with quiet hope. His next blow landed before I could finish the sentence on my lips. “Don’t! I’m… carrying-” The word was a prayer, a plea, a confession. I never finished it. His fist answered. Warmth pooled between my legs. My knees buckled. When I dared to look, my fingers came away red. “No…” The word cracked. I pressed my palms to my belly as if pressure could stitch what had been torn. Blood soaked my dress and the floor. My tears were not for pain. They were hot and sour with rage. Hate, pure, bright, animal, lit every dull corner of me. I screamed his name until the house trembled. He left with Lorie, smug and triumphant as if the night had gone exactly according to plan. The wolf inside me curled and listened to his footsteps fade. When they were gone, I crawled to the phone, booked a taxi, and fled. -- Hospitals smelled of disinfectant and faint mercy. Hours later, I lay in a bed, hollow and empty. The doctor’s words cut clean: “The pregnancy couldn’t be saved.” They kept me overnight, then sent me home with pills and a sheet stamped with instructions to “rest.” Alpha Travis did not call. He did not visit. He did not notice I had gone, or perhaps he had, and simply did not care. Two days later, his birthday was a spectacle of glitter and expensive smiles. He stood in the living room, all measured charm, telling me to be punctual that evening. Lorie leaned at his side like a living advertisement for infidelity. I nodded, motion automatic, voice soft like velvet. Since losing the child, I had become small, not by choice, but because survival taught me invisibility. I smiled, obedient, agreeable, mute. It pleased him. He kissed my cheek like a man patting a tame animal. I let it land. When they left, Lorie’s purse knocked a framed photo from the coffee table. Glass cracked like finality. Alpha Travis looked at me, expecting the old response. I stood by the window. I gave none. Calmness was a lie, a mask the wolf had taught me to wear. -- When the black SUV arrived, my father’s driver, I packed with machine patience. Divorce papers. Investment withdrawal. Receipts. Photos of Alpha Travis and Lorie. Pregnancy report. And the one document folded so close it had softened at the creases: proof, a smear of paper that read like a confession. On the front, I wrote: Happy Birthday, Alpha Travis Wolfe. From Stella Stormfang. I handed it to the deliveryman and watched him go. My fingers shook, but nothing compared to the river of heat coiling in my chest: hatred, clarity, moonlight. The wolf lifted her head, scenting the air, taste of revenge sharp on her tongue. As we pulled away, I did not look back. The SUV cut through the night, away from the house that had been a gilded cage. My father sat silent, hands tight on the wheel. No questions, no need. The pack had known Alpha Travis Wolfe’s reputation for years; they had watched while my life unraveled. In the rearview, my face stared back, pale, swollen, not broken. A moonbeam slid across the dashboard; the wolf in me lifted her head to it. Old stories my grandmother whispered returned: The blood remembers, Stella. The moon remembers. The wolf does not forgive the one who spills what she carries. Hate bloomed into a plan. Pain hardened on purpose. I would not let his betrayal end my story. I would not be a footnote in his life of conquests. One day, they would regret all they had done, not with his violence, but with something older, sharper, precise. The wolf’s teeth are patient. The pack is patient. I had counted the cost; I had marked the names. I pressed my wrist to feel my pulse. Beneath the bandage on my cheek, the forming scar throbbed. Something else stirred: a hunger not for food, but for the moon, for the hunt, for reclamation. It tasted like iron and promise. When we reached my father’s house, the driver opened the door. The night smelled of wet earth and possibility. I stepped into the dark, the world sharp and alive. The wolf walked with me, tail low, muscles coiled, intent. They thought they had taken everything. Instead, they reminded me of what I had been taught to bury. Tonight, the moon will watch. Tonight, the wolf would rise. And when she did, Alpha Travis would learn exactly what happens when a woman who knows the dark turns her pain into a hunt.