What the Alpha Lost

The silver burned through my veins like liquid fire, each heartbeat sending another wave of agony through my shoulder where the rogue wolf's fangs had torn deep. I pressed my palm against the wound, feeling the warm blood seep between my fingers as I struggled to stay upright in the moonlit clearing.

"Ryker," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper carried on the night air. "Help me."

But when I lifted my eyes, searching for my mate—my Alpha—the sight that greeted me was worse than any physical pain the silver could inflict.

Ryker stood twenty feet away, his arm wrapped possessively around Sloane's waist. They were laughing. Actually laughing, as if my blood wasn't pooling in the dirt at their feet, as if the silver wasn't eating through my insides like acid.

Sloane's head was tilted back, her perfect blonde hair catching the moonlight as she gazed up at Ryker with those crystal blue eyes that had stolen my mate's attention months ago. Her hand rested on his chest, fingers splayed over the place where his heart should be—if he still had one.

"Ryker," I tried again, louder this time, desperation cracking my voice.

His head turned toward me with deliberate slowness, those amber eyes I'd once loved now cold as winter stone. He looked at me the way one might look at a wounded animal—with mild annoyance and complete detachment.

"Can't handle a little scratch, Maren?" His voice carried across the clearing with brutal clarity. "You're supposed to be Luna material. Act like it."

The words hit harder than the rogue's claws had. Around us, the younger pack warriors shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between their Alpha and their bleeding Luna-to-be. I saw Marcus, barely eighteen, take a half-step forward as if to help, but one sharp look from Ryker froze him in place.

"Stay back," Ryker commanded, his Alpha authority rolling through the clearing like thunder. "She needs to learn to handle herself."

The silver poison spread deeper, making my vision blur at the edges. My wolf whimpered somewhere deep inside me, not from the physical pain but from the rejection in our mate's voice. Seven years. Seven years of waiting, of believing, of holding onto promises that turned to ash in my mouth.

Sloane detached herself from Ryker's side with practiced grace, her movements fluid as she approached me. To anyone watching, it would look like concern, like the future Beta female showing compassion to the wounded Luna.

But when she knelt beside me, her voice dropped to a whisper meant only for my ears.

"Poor little Maren," she murmured, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "Still clinging to fairy tales, aren't you?" Her fingers brushed against my wounded shoulder, and I hissed as pain shot through me. "Ryker's wolf told him the truth last week. I'm his true mate. His destined one."

The silver in my bloodstream felt cold compared to the ice that formed in my chest.

"The binding ceremony tomorrow?" Sloane continued, her smile