Alicia’s POV
I met Stephen years ago, when he was still only the heir to the Alpha throne. That night at the banquet, surrounded by glittering gowns, heavy crowns, and the scent of power, he stood out to me like the moon in a dark sky. He wasn’t my fated mate—my wolf never howled at the sight of him, never tugged at my chest the way legends said she should—but he looked at me as if I were already his.
And when he came to me, when his voice wrapped around me like velvet, I believed every word he whispered.
“You may not be my fated one, Alicia,” he had said that night, his hand brushing mine beneath the tablecloth. “But I will love you like you are. I’ll make vows stronger than any string of destiny. I’ll never lie to you, never break your heart. You will be my Luna, my only one.”
All those promises. All those sacred words. And now, they were nothing but ashes.
That morning, I woke feeling sick. My head throbbed, and my body felt heavy as if my wolf was curled deep inside me, refusing to stir. Three weeks into the pregnancy, my body was already shifting, straining to hold the tiny life growing inside me. My schedule for a checkup had arrived, and I knew I couldn’t delay.
When Stephen—no, William—came to check on me, his eyes softened. “How’s the pup doing?” he asked, crouching down beside the bed. His voice was tender, gentle. Too gentle.
“I feel… weak,” I admitted, pressing a hand to my belly. “I need to go to the hospital.”
“Then I’ll go with you,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. His hand covered mine. “You’re carrying my brother’s heir. The next Alpha. I will not let anything happen to you.”
For a heartbeat, my wolf stirred. For a heartbeat, I wanted to believe him.
But then the doors creaked open.
Sophia entered, draped in pale silks that made her look fragile, almost ethereal. She swayed as she walked, her hand pressed against her forehead, lips trembling as if each breath was too heavy to bear. “Alpha…” she whispered, her voice weak, thin, calculated.
I stiffened.
Stephen’s attention snapped to her instantly, the warmth in his gaze toward me evaporating like mist under the sun. “Sophia,” he said, rushing to her side before I could even process it. His hand caught her elbow, steadying her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. “What’s wrong?”
She blinked up at him, pale cheeks flushed with just the right amount of color. “I… I don’t feel well. I think… I might collapse.”
For a fleeting second, his gaze flickered toward me. Something unreadable flashed in his eyes, hesitation, guilt, maybe even sorrow. But it was gone in an instant.
Sophia whimpered, leaning more heavily against him. “Alpha, please… don’t leave me. I feel like something is wrong.”
His arm wrapped around her, shielding her from a pain she probably didn’t even carry. And then his words came, sharp, cold, final.
“I’ll take Sophia to the hospital first. You can manage your checkup without me. You understand, don’t you?”
In the end, I went to the hospital alone. My legs shook beneath me as I walked the sterile halls, my wolf pacing restlessly in my chest, snarling at his abandonment. The nurse led me into the ultrasound room, and when the grainy image of my child flickered on the screen, tears spilled from my eyes.
A tiny bean. So small. So fragile. But alive.
My heart swelled with a love so fierce it nearly broke me in two.
Later, I sat in the hospital lounge, staring blankly at the television. A concert blared across the screen, music vibrating through the speakers. I found myself humming softly, trying to distract my wolf from the gnawing ache in my chest.
And then the camera panned to the audience. To the couples swaying hand in hand, faces lit with joy.
My humming died.
My eyes narrowed, my breath catching.
There they were. Stephen and Sophia. Featured as a couple, spotlight and a camera were pointing at them.
Then they tried to cover their faces, as if the cameras wouldn’t notice. But I noticed. The way his hand lingered on her back, the way her head tilted toward his shoulder.
I couldn’t believe it.
Sophia wasn’t sick. She was dancing. Smiling. Enjoying the world while I sat in a cold hospital chair with his heir growing inside me.
My stomach churned. Rage and grief mixed in my veins until I could barely breathe.
Hours later, on the drive back to the pack, my phone buzzed. A message. From Sophia.
I hesitated before opening it, but curiosity clawed me open.
It was a picture.
Her in the backseat of a car. Stephen’s arm wrapped around her waist, her head on his lap, both of them flushed and tired but glowing from joy.
My chest constricted as though claws had raked through it. My wolf howled in agony, her voice breaking into a thousand shards.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, stifling a scream.
When I reached the packhouse, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I called him. Desperately. My fingers shook, my wolf crying out to him.
Pick up. Please, pick up. I’ll forgive you. Just tell me it’s not true. Just tell me you’re mine. I’ll give you another chance. Moon Goddess, I’ll give him a thousand chances if he just comes back.
And then—he answered.
My breath hitched in relief. But what I heard shattered me beyond repair.
Moans. Soft, breathless, intimate sounds. A woman’s laughter. A man’s groan.
“Stephen,” Sophia’s voice gasped, raw and unrestrained.
The call ended.
And so did my world.
That night, I didn’t change out of my pajamas. I didn’t think. I simply walked back to the hospital, numb, my wolf silent and broken inside me. At the counter, my voice came out hoarse.
“I want to abort the pup,” I whispered. “Three weeks old.”
---
When morning came, I returned to the packhouse hollow, my body aching from sleeplessness. He was waiting at the table, a plate of breakfast prepared.
“Alicia,” Stephen—William—smiled. “I made your favorite. You should eat. For the baby.”
I walked past him without a word.
But his hand caught my elbow. The same hand that had touched Sophia, held her waist, stroked her skin. My stomach turned.
“You need to take care of yourself,” he said softly. “You’re carrying my brother’s heir. The future Alpha.”
I yanked my arm away, bile rising in my throat. “Don’t touch me.”
I climbed the stairs, my steps heavy, only to stop at the sight before me.
Sophia.
She stood there, radiant, glowing in full glamor. No trace of illness in her skin, no fragility in her stance. She was dressed as though she were the Luna already, basking in stolen glory.
She smirked when she saw me.
“You know, I purposely sent you that picture,” she said lightly, walking closer. “I wanted you to see it. I also answered Stephen’s phone that night. I wanted you to hear.”
My wolf snarled, but my body was frozen.
She leaned close, her perfume choking me. “I’m not sick, Alicia. I’ve never been dying. I faked it. I did it to get time with him, to make him mine again. And now, I will use every one of these months to seduce him, to mark him. To bind him to me forever.”
My vision blurred with tears. “You’re lying.”
She laughed, cruel and sharp. “Am I? He’s already married to me. Look.”
And she held up her hand. On her finger gleamed a moonstone ring. Larger, brighter, more extravagant than the one Stephen had meant for me.
“This is better, don’t you think?” she whispered. “After all, Stephen was always mine. And he always will be.”
