Beneath the Waning Moon

Through the bond that tied my wolf to his, I sent ninety-nine screams for help.

The hundredth time, he answered—distant, distracted.

"Seraphine, I'm occupied. Stop whining like a needy pup."

I lay in an ice crevice, our pup suffocating in my womb, while he hunted beneath the full moon with another.

Five days later, I woke in a healing den. Through the wall, I heard my mate—my Alpha—speaking of me like livestock.

"Keep her under until Lysandra whelps," Leon growled to the shaman. "If she learns I drained our pup for that she-wolf's marrow, I'll have your tongue. And if you fail me—I'll burn your den to ash."

I touched the mating mark burning on my throat and reached for the crystal. My voice didn't tremble.

"Harris. Prepare the severance scroll. I want his signature before the moon wanes."

The she-wolf who loved her Alpha died in that ravine.

The one who clawed out will make him howl.

Three weeks ago. The night of the blood moon.

I ran alone through the high passes, heavy with young—nine moons along, the pup quickening with every step.

The trail gave way. I tumbled, striking stone and ice, wedged in a crevice where the cold would finish what gravity began.

I sent my call through the spirit-web to the healers. Needed the Alpha's permission to cut the pup from my dying flesh. Ninety-nine summons. Silence.

The hundredth time, the bond stirred.

"Seraphine." Leon's voice, sharp as winter wind. "Must you always demand my attention? I'm occupied. Cease your crying."

Before the link closed, I heard her.

Lysandra. No bond, no mark—but close enough to murmur in his ear.

"The fire-dance begins soon, Leon. Leave the pack business. Come warm yourself."

Days later, I woke in the healing den, consciousness returning like poison. Through the stone, I heard Leon's truth.

"Alpha," the shaman protested, "the wolfsbane will kill her wolf. The marrow ritual is complete. Lysandra walks. Let your mate wake."

Leon's laugh held no warmth. "If Seraphine rises now, she'll know I triggered the rockslide to harvest our pup for Lysandra 's blood-rotting sickness. I need her dreaming until Lysandra births my heir."

My heart seized.

All those moons, I had cradled Lysandra 's swelling belly, sung to her human young, loved her as pack-kin—while she lay with my marked mate, carried his seed, and drank my offspring's life to cure her own.

The shaman's voice cracked. "Alpha, the she-wolf will die—"

"Then let her," Leon said. "You've taken my gold. Cross me, and I'll leave your pups fatherless."

I pressed my hand to the mark on my throat, feeling our bond shudder and fray. Silent tears tracked my cheeks.

My fated mate. My chosen Alpha. He had murdered our young for his first love—the female who fled him at the altar five winters ago.

I reached for the crystal, fingers unsteady.

"Harris," I said, flat as lake-ice. "Prepare the severance scroll. I want his mark removed before the week ends."

I let