My Alpha Accused Me of Killing Our Unborn Child

The fifth anniversary of Sophia's death dawned cold and gray, matching the hollow space in my chest where hope once lived.

I jolted awake to the sound of my door crashing open. Jacob stood in the doorway, his massive frame silhouetted against the hallway light. Even after five years, his sudden appearances still made my heart stutter with fear.

"Get up," he snarled, stalking toward me. "Today isn't for lazy bitches."

His scent hit me—pine and whiskey, with an underlying sweetness that could only belong to Milani. My stomach twisted. He'd spent the night with her again.

I slid from the narrow bed, keeping my eyes downcast as he circled me like a predator. "Five years," he muttered, his fingers suddenly gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Five years since Sophia left us, and you still look like... this."

His lip curled in disgust. I knew what I looked like—hollow-cheeked, dark circles under my eyes, hair limp from another sleepless night. The permanent limp from Milani's attack made me wince as I stood.

"The pack expects the Luna to make an effort," he said, though we both knew I was no real Luna in his eyes. Just a placeholder. A reminder of his humiliation.

He threw a bundle of fabric at my feet—gray robes, the color of mourning. "Wear these. And nothing else."

I stared at the rough material. "Jacob, I'm still bleeding from—"

"Did I ask?" His eyes flashed gold, Alpha power radiating from him in suffocating waves. "You'll wear what I tell you to wear. You'll prepare the offerings for Sophia's memorial. And you'll do it without making eye contact with anyone of rank."

I nodded, knowing better than to argue. Five years had taught me when resistance was futile.

"Clean yourself up," he ordered, turning to leave. "You have one hour."

---

The Sacred Grounds were packed with pack members when I arrived, carrying the ceremonial offerings on a silver tray. The marble statue of Sophia gleamed in the center—her perfect face tilted toward the sky, arms outstretched in what Jacob had once described as "benevolent grace."

Milani stood beside him on the raised dais, her hand possessively wrapped around his arm. She wore white—the color of purity, of remembrance. Everything I wasn't allowed to be.

"Rose." Jacob's voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. "Come forward."

Every step sent pain shooting through my damaged hip. I kept my gaze fixed on the ground as I approached.

"Kneel," he commanded, his Alpha Tone vibrating through my bones.

My knees hit the mud before the statue. Recent rains had turned the sacred space into a quagmire, but no one seemed concerned about the Luna—former or current—kneeling in filth.

"Today marks five years since our beloved Sophia returned to the Moon Goddess," Jacob announced, his voice carrying across the grounds. "Five years since perfection left our world."

I felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on me as I knelt there, the mud seeping through