After My Alpha Killed Our Baby, I Chose a Dying Man

The anniversary of Hadassah’s death always tasted like ashes in my mouth. It was a day of mourning for the Silver Pack, a day of silence in our penthouse, and a day where I ceased to be Talia Young, the wife, and became simply the reliquary for a dead saint.

I stood in the kitchen of our Manhattan penthouse, my hands trembling as I arranged white lilies—Hadassah’s favorite—into a crystal vase. The silence of the apartment was heavy, suffocating. Jaxon was in his study, the room I was forbidden to enter unless summoned. It was his shrine to her. But tonight, I needed a specific vase, the tall blue one he kept on the mantel. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I made everything perfect, he might look at me. really look at me, not just through me to the ghost he loved.

I walked down the hallway, the plush carpet swallowing the sound of my footsteps. The door to the study was ajar. I raised my hand to knock, but the sound of his voice froze me.

“She’s weak, Jaxon. It’s been three years. The pack needs a strong Luna, not a mouse who jumps at her own shadow.” It was Elena, his mother. Her voice dripped with the same disdain she had shown me since I was a child.

My heart hammered against my ribs—Hadassah’s heart. It skipped a beat, a traitor in my own chest.

“I don’t care about her strength, Mother,” Jaxon’s voice was low, vibrating with that Alpha tone that usually made my knees weak. But tonight, it made my blood run cold. “I don’t keep her here for her personality. I don’t keep her here because she’s a good Luna.”

“Then why?” Elena pressed. “Why refuse the Council’s suggestion to reject her and take a chosen mate? You have needs. The pack has needs.”

There was a pause, a silence so loud it rang in my ears. Then, Jaxon spoke, his voice void of any warmth, any affection. It was clinical. Detached.

“Because Hadassah’s heart beats inside her chest. As long as Talia breathes, a part of Hadassah is still alive. I will not let that heart stop. I will not let it go. She is just the vessel, Mother. You don’t throw away the box that holds the diamond.”

The vase slipped from my fingers.

It hit the floor with a shattering crash that echoed like a gunshot. Shards of crystal exploded across the hardwood.

Jaxon was at the door in a second. He loomed over me, his eyes flashing gold, his wolf rising to the surface. He didn’t look concerned. He looked annoyed. He looked at the broken glass, then at me, with the same cold indifference one might show a clumsy servant.

“Clean it up, Talia,” he commanded, the Alpha power in his voice forcing my head down in submission. “Stop being so dramatic. It’s just glass.”

He turned his back on me and slammed the door.

I fell to my