Alessandra POV
The silence in my head was the first mercy I had felt in months. Sitting on the rotting wood of my grandmother's porch, I stared into the dense treeline, the night air cooling the feverish heat radiating from my burnt arm. I had severed the Mind-Link. Just snapped it shut. For an Omega to block her Alpha was unheard of; for a mate to do it was a declaration of war.
But I didn't care. The image of him carrying Isadora—holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world—had cauterized the part of me that used to bleed for him.
A twig snapped. The shadows at the edge of the clearing shifted, coalescing into a towering figure that seemed to suck the light from the moon.
Demetri.
He didn't approach with the grace of a lover. He stalked toward the porch like a predator cornering prey. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and suppressed violence. His Alpha aura slammed into me, demanding submission, but I was too hollow to bow.
You blocked me, Demetri snarled, stopping at the foot of the stairs. His eyes were two chips of obsidian, devoid of warmth. "I have been calling for hours. Do you have a death wish, Alessandra?"
I didn't stand. I didn't tremble. I just looked at him, feeling a strange, detached exhaustion. "I needed some quiet."
His jaw ticked. "Quiet? You are the Luna of this Pack—in title, if not in competence. You do not shut me out. Ever."
Luna, I repeated, the word tasting like ash. "Is that what I am? Or am I just the placeholder you tolerate until you figure out how to install her?"
Demetri mounted the steps, the wood groaning under his weight. He loomed over me, blocking out the stars. "Do not test my patience tonight. Get up. We are going back to the Pack House."
No.
The word hung in the air, fragile but absolute. Demetri froze, looking at me as if the floorboards had spoken.
I stood up then, my legs shaking not from fear, but from the sickness rattling in my chest. I took a breath, the night air searing my lungs, and looked him dead in the eye.
I'm done, Demetri. I can't be your punching bag anymore. I can't watch you love her while I rot in your shadow. My voice gained strength, fueled by the broken shards of my heart. "I, Alessandra Moon, want to reject you as my mate."
The silence that followed was terrifying. The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Demetri's face didn't crumble. It hardened into stone. A cruel, cold smile twisted his lips, terrifying in its lack of humor. He stepped into my personal space, forcing me to tilt my head back.
You think you have a choice? His voice was a low rumble, vibrating through my chest. "You think this is a fairy tale where you get to walk away? Your father sold your freedom for the safety of this Pack. You are my mate. You will do your duty until I say otherwise."
My duty? I whispered, tears pricking my eyes despite my resolve. "To be humiliated?"
To be obedient! he roared, his control slipping. "Is this about that pathetic scene with Chrissy? I dealt with her. Stop acting like a petulant child."
He reached out, his hand clamping around my uninjured upper arm. The moment his skin touched mine, the spark—that cursed, electric jolt of the Mate Bond—arced between us. But instead of pleasure, it felt like a brand.
Demetri frowned, his grip tightening not in anger, but in confusion. He pulled me closer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned my face. "You're burning up."
I tried to pull away, dizziness swaying the world. "Let me go."
You have a fever, he stated, his tone shifting from accuser to Alpha commander. He ignored my resistance, his hand moving to my forehead. "You're shaking. Why didn't you say you were sick?"
It doesn't matter, I rasped, panic beginning to claw at my throat. "Leave me alone."
We are going to the clinic, Demetri decided, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Adan needs to look at that burn and this fever."
The Clinic. Adan.
Ice flooded my veins, instantly overpowering the fever. Adan was the best Healer in the territory. If he examined me, if he ran even a basic scan of my vitals, he would hear the second heartbeat. He would find the pup.
And if Demetri knew... if he knew I was carrying his heir while he pined for Isadora... he would take the baby. He would lock me away or, worse, hand my child to Isadora to raise.
No! The scream tore from my throat, primal and terrified.
Demetri moved to scoop me up, but I exploded into motion. I wasn't fighting as Alessandra the weak Omega; I was fighting as a mother. I clawed at his chest, my nails digging into his expensive shirt. I kicked out, my heel connecting with his shin.
Put me down! I shrieked, thrashing in his arms like a wild animal. "I'm not going to the clinic! I won't go!"
Stop this madness! Demetri grunted, tightening his hold to keep me from falling. He looked genuinely shocked by my violence. "You are ill, Alessandra! Stop fighting me!"
I won't let you take me there! I sobbed, hitting his shoulder, desperation making me delirious. "Let me go!"
Enough! Demetri growled, his patience snapping. He didn't see the fear; he only saw defiance. He saw an Omega challenging her Alpha.
He clamped my arms to my sides, crushing me against his chest with unbreakable strength. He marched toward his black Bentley parked on the gravel road, ignoring my pleas.
You are going, he snarled, wrenching the passenger door open. "And you will learn to stop fighting the hand that protects you."
He shoved me into the leather seat, unaware that the only thing I needed protection from was him.
