He Killed Our Pup: The Alpha's Ultimate Regret

My husband locked me in a glass cage in the center of the ballroom, announcing to the elite of the pack that my father was dead.

While his assistant, Debra, draped herself over him, Austen turned the thermostat down until industrial coolant pumped into my prison.

I was eight months pregnant with his heir, begging for mercy, but he only raised a champagne glass to his new "Nolan Pack."

To prove my submission, he ordered warriors to douse me in ice water laced with silver and wolfsbane.

The chemicals burned my skin, but the cold killed my unborn son.

As I lay in a pool of frozen red blood, watching the life fade from my womb, Austen finally panicked—not for me, but for his reputation.

My father, the Supreme Alpha, wasn't dead. He tore the doors off their hinges to save me, but it was too late for the baby.

Waking up in the hospital, empty and broken, I listened to Austen beg not for forgiveness, but for a cover-up to save the stock price.

"We can just make another one," he said, dismissing my dead son like a broken toy.

That was the moment the weak, loving wife died.

I stood up, my eyes glowing with the ancient silver light of the White Wolf.

I didn't just divorce him. I used the Alpha Voice to sever our bond, stripping him of his rank, his sanity, and his name.

Now, I am the Queen of the Winter Moon Pack.

Chapter 1

Isolde POV:

The heat wasn't just in the room; it was inside my marrow.

It felt like I was being cooked from the inside out. My skin was slick, my dress clinging to me like a second, suffocating skin. Pregnancy in the third trimester is a marathon for any woman, but carrying a werewolf pup turns your body into a blast furnace. My metabolism was running at redline to fuel the rapid growth of the life inside me. But this... this was torture.

I reached for the thermostat on the wall of the Alpha's office, my fingers trembling. The digital display read eighty degrees.

"Please," I whispered to the empty air, dialing it down to sixty-five. "Just a little coolness. Just for the baby."

"Oh, Luna Isolde, are you touching that again?"

The voice was cloying, like cheap syrup. I turned to see Debra, my husband's personal assistant, leaning against the doorframe. She was a Beta-lower in rank, theoretically-but she walked around this office as if she owned the very air we breathed. She was wrapped in a cashmere shawl, shivering theatrically.

"It is freezing in here, Luna," Debra complained, hugging herself. "My human side is so frail. You know I get sick so easily. Unlike you... with your strong, royal blood."

Her eyes mocked me. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Debra, I am pregnant," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though my wolf was pacing anxiously in the back of my mind. "The pup