After My Alpha Rejected Me, the Lycan King Claimed Me

My wolf hasn't spoken to me in three weeks.

I tell myself it's stress. The pack finances, the upcoming diplomatic visit from the Lycan King, the endless demands from Justin's mother—the Queen Mother, as she insists on being called even though she hasn't held the Luna title in five years. But deep down, in the hollow space where my wolf's presence should hum like a second heartbeat, I know something is wrong.

The hallway outside our bedroom is dark when I hear their voices. I freeze, one hand on the doorframe, my body swaying slightly. The dizziness has gotten worse lately. Another symptom I've been ignoring.

"She's getting suspicious." The Queen Mother's voice cuts through the shadows like a blade. "This morning she asked why the vitamins make her tired."

"Then we increase the dosage." Justin's response is immediate, clinical. "The Lycan King arrives in two days. I can't have her embarrassing me with one of her... episodes."

Episodes. That's what he calls it when I question him. When I push back against his decisions. When I dare to act like the Luna I'm supposed to be.

"The Rogue who sold them to you said—"

"I don't care what that filth said." Justin's voice drops to a growl. "She needs to be manageable. Compliant. Like a proper Luna should be."

I step back into the bedroom before they round the corner, my heart hammering against my ribs. Vitamins. Rogue. Manageable.

The pill bottle sits on my nightstand, innocent and white. I've been taking them religiously every morning for six months, ever since Justin brought them home, claiming the pack healer recommended them for my "hormonal imbalance." I'd believed him. Trusted him.

I'm such a fool.

I wait until the house falls silent, until Justin's snores rattle through the wall from his separate bedroom—another recent development he'd blamed on my "restlessness"—before I retrieve the bottle from the trash where I'd thrown it this morning. My hands shake as I turn it over, examining every inch.

There. Scratched into the bottom, barely visible: a jagged symbol that makes my stomach drop. A Rogue mark. I've seen it before, on wanted posters in the pack house, on the scarred faces of wolves who've been exiled for crimes against pack law.

These aren't vitamins. They're poison.

The next morning, I walk into Justin's office without knocking. He looks up from his desk, irritation flashing across his face before he schools it into false concern.

"Lila. You look pale. Did you take your—"

"No." I set the bottle on his desk with a sharp click. "I'm not taking them anymore."

His jaw tightens. "The healer said—"

"The healer never prescribed these." My voice is steadier than I feel. "What are they really, Justin?"

Something dangerous flickers in his eyes. He stands slowly, his Alpha aura pressing against me like a physical weight. "You're being hysterical."

"I'm being rational."

"You're being insubordinate." He rounds the desk, backing me toward the wall. "This is exactly why you