Chapter 3
Emma's soft whimpers pierced the darkness, pulling me from fitful sleep. I reached for her, my fingers finding her tiny form in the crib beside my bed. Her skin felt warm—too warm. Fear shot through me as I lifted her against my chest.
"Shh, little one," I whispered, pressing my lips to her forehead. Not a fever, just the natural warmth of a werewolf pup. Aurora stirred within me, her maternal instincts as sharp as my own.
*Not safe here anymore,* she growled. *Not for our pup.*
The thought had been growing in me for days. Blake's quarters—our quarters—no longer felt like home but a battlefield where I fought daily for scraps of dignity. Where Rachel's presence lingered in every room.
"You're right," I murmured, stroking Emma's downy hair. "We can't stay."
I packed only what we needed—clothes, Emma's supplies, and the diary with its dwindling pages. As dawn broke, I carried Emma through silent hallways to my mother's old quarters. Smaller, simpler, but untainted by betrayal.
Garrett appeared as I struggled with the door, Emma bundled in one arm.
"Luna," he said softly, taking my bag. His eyes held questions he wouldn't voice.
"I need space," I said simply. "For Emma's safety."
He nodded once, understanding in his gaze. "Your mother's quarters have been maintained. I'll ensure you're not disturbed."
The rooms smelled faintly of my mother's perfume—lavender and sage. I placed Emma in the old wooden cradle my father had carved decades ago and sank onto the bed, exhaustion pulling at my bones.
*Distance won't heal what's broken,* Aurora whispered within me.
"But it might keep what remains of us safe," I answered aloud.
---
"A special dinner in the Great Hall tonight," Garrett informed me that afternoon. "Rachel is hosting. Alpha Blake requests your presence."
Requests. Not demands. Even his Alpha commands had grown tentative as our bond weakened.
"Will you attend?" Garrett asked when I remained silent.
I looked down at Emma sleeping in my arms. "Do I have a choice?"
The Great Hall buzzed with conversation when I arrived, Emma cradled against my chest. Conversations died as I passed, pitying glances following me to my seat at the high table. Blake sat at the head, Rachel to his right—my place. I took the empty chair to his left, the distance between us a physical manifestation of our fractured bond.
"Isabella," Blake acknowledged coldly. "You moved your things."
"For Emma's comfort," I replied, my voice steady despite Aurora's growls.
Rachel beamed around the table. "I've prepared a traditional rogue feast tonight," she announced. "In my former pack, we celebrated new life with these dishes."
Servers brought steaming platters to the table. The aroma was rich, enticing—until Aurora suddenly reared up within me, her senses sharper than my human ones.
*Poison,* she snarled. *Wolfsbane.*
I stiffened, nostrils flaring. There—beneath the savory scents—the faint bitter note of diluted wolfsbane. Not enough to kill, but enough to sicken a weakened she-wolf and her vulnerable pup.
Rachel placed a plate before me, her smile never reaching her eyes. "A special portion for you and the little one," she said sweetly. "Nursing mothers need strength."
I met her gaze steadily. "No, thank you."
The table fell silent.
"You haven't even tried it," Blake said, his tone hardening.
"I can smell the wolfsbane," I replied quietly.
Rachel's face transformed into a mask of hurt. "Wolfsbane? I would never! These are traditional recipes passed down through generations."
Blake's eyes flashed with anger. "That's a serious accusation, Isabella."
"My wolf can smell it," I insisted, clutching Emma closer. "I won't risk our daughter."
Blake stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. "You're being paranoid. Rachel has worked all day to welcome you, and you respond with insults."
"Blake—"
"Enough!" His Alpha tone vibrated through the hall. "If you can't be respectful, perhaps you should leave."
Humiliation burned through me as every pack member watched. With as much dignity as I could muster, I rose, Emma still clutched protectively to my chest.
"As you wish, Alpha," I said formally, the title tasting like ash on my tongue.
I walked from the hall, back straight, tears unshed. Behind me, I heard Rachel's concerned voice: "She's been so unstable since the birth..."
---
When I returned to my mother's quarters the next morning after walking with Emma in the gardens, I found pack members removing furniture.
"What's happening?" I demanded.
A young Delta avoided my eyes. "Alpha's orders. These quarters are being reduced. Some items are needed elsewhere."
I stood frozen as they took my mother's writing desk, the comfortable chair where I nursed Emma, even the small bookshelf that had held my childhood treasures.
Blake appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "You chose smaller quarters. They're being adjusted accordingly."
"This was my mother's space," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"And now it's suitable for an Omega," he replied coldly. "You should prepare yourself, Isabella. I've scheduled a meeting with the pack lawyer. It's time we discuss a rejection ceremony."
The words hit like physical blows. Rejection. The formal, public severing of a mate bond. The ultimate humiliation for a Luna.
After he left, I pulled the diary from its hiding place with trembling hands. Page 850 described the day Blake had promised we would grow old together, watching our grandpups play in the pack grounds.
As the page burned between my fingers, I made a silent vow: I would leave on my terms, not his. And when I did, I would take the last thing he truly valued—his heir, his daughter, his future.
Aurora growled her approval as another piece of our bond turned to ash.
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