After My Alpha Killed Our Pup, I Stole His Fortune

The nausea hit me the moment I opened my eyes.

I barely made it to the small sink in the corner of my basement room before my stomach emptied. Again. This was the third morning in a row.

I gripped the chipped porcelain, my knuckles white, and tried to breathe through the waves of sickness. The servants' quarters smelled like mildew and old stone, nothing like the warm bedroom I'd had before. Before the rejection. Before everything fell apart.

When the heaving finally stopped, I splashed cold water on my face with shaking hands. My reflection in the cracked mirror looked hollow—dark circles under my eyes, cheekbones too sharp, skin too pale.

Then it hit me.

My period was late. Two weeks late.

No. It couldn't be.

But my hand moved to my stomach anyway, pressing against the flat surface beneath my thin nightgown. I was a latent wolf. Wolfless. The chances of conception should have been nearly impossible.

Except Bryce wasn't just any wolf. He was an Alpha. And for three precious months before Sloane arrived, before everything changed, we'd been... close. The Fated Mate bond had been pulling us together even before his shift, even if neither of us had understood it then.

A baby. Bryce's baby.

Hope fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird. An heir. The pack needed an heir. If I was carrying the future Alpha, Bryce would have to accept me. He'd have to protect us. The bond might be severed, but blood—pack blood—that was sacred.

I had to tell him.

I dressed quickly in my gray servant's dress, my hands fumbling with the buttons. The morning sickness had passed, leaving me light-headed but determined. This changed everything. It had to.

The Pack House was quiet as I climbed the stairs from the basement. Most wolves were still sleeping off last night's training session. My feet made no sound on the polished floors I'd scrubbed a hundred times.

Bryce's office was on the third floor. I'd only been there once since the rejection, to deliver his father's papers. The memory of his cold dismissal burned, but I pushed it away.

This was different. This was about our child.

I was ten feet from his door when Sloane appeared.

She materialized from a side hallway like a nightmare made flesh, her auburn hair perfectly styled even at this early hour, her green eyes sharp.

"Well, well." Her smile was all teeth. "The little mouse is out of her hole. Lost, are we?"

My throat went dry. "I need to speak with Bryce. It's important."

"Important?" She stepped closer, and I caught her scent—roses and something chemical, artificial. "What could possibly be important enough for an Omega to disturb the future Alpha?"

I shouldn't have said it. Every instinct screamed at me to stay silent, to walk away. But desperation made me stupid.

"I'm pregnant," I whispered. "With his child. Please, I just need five minutes—"

Sloane's expression transformed. The false sweetness vanished, replaced by something vicious and cold. Her eyes glittered with malice.

"Wait here," she said, her voice suddenly gentle. "I'll let him know."

She slipped into the office before I could respond, closing the door behind her.

I waited, my heart hammering. Through the thick wood, I heard muffled voices. Sloane's light laugh. Then Bryce's voice, sharp with anger.

The door slammed open.

Bryce stood in the doorway, and the rage rolling off him made me step back. His gray eyes were wild, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.

"You dare," he snarled, stalking toward me. "You dare come here with this lie?"

"It's not a lie—"

"Sloane told me everything." He was so close now I could feel the heat of his anger. "The Rogue you've been meeting in the woods. The money you've been stealing. And now this? Trying to trap me with another male's bastard?"

The words hit like physical blows. "What? No! Bryce, I would never—"

"Don't." His voice dropped to something deadly. "Don't say my name."

Behind him, Sloane watched from the doorway, her smile small and satisfied.

"There's no Rogue," I pleaded, my voice breaking. "The baby is yours. It has to be. I haven't been with anyone else, I swear—"

Bryce grabbed a crystal vase from the hall table. It was filled with green glass flowers, delicate and expensive. He held my gaze as he raised it high and smashed it against the marble floor.

Green shards exploded across the white stone, glittering like broken emeralds.

"Walk to me," he said, and his voice changed. Deepened. The Alpha Tone—a command that bypassed thought, that seized control of my body like invisible chains. "Prove your submission."

No.

My body moved against my will. One foot lifted, hovering over the field of glass.

"Bryce, please—" Tears streamed down my face. "Please, the baby—"

"Walk."

My foot came down.

The glass bit deep, and I screamed. Pain exploded through my sole, hot and sharp. But my body didn't stop. The Alpha Tone drove me forward, step after agonizing step.

Blood bloomed across the white marble like red flowers.

I sobbed, my hands instinctively wrapping around my stomach, trying to protect the life inside me as I stumbled forward. Each step was agony. The glass sliced deeper, shredding skin and flesh.

"Stop, please stop—"

But I couldn't stop. My body belonged to him, commanded by his Alpha voice.

Five steps. Six. Seven.

I reached him finally, collapsing at his feet, my blood pooling around us both. I looked up through my tears, searching for any hint of the boy who'd once saved my life in the snow.

His eyes were empty.

"Clean this up," he said, stepping over me. "And stay away from my office."

He walked away, Sloane's hand slipping into his.

I knelt in my own blood and broken glass, my feet screaming, my heart shattered, and felt the first flutter of something dark and cold taking root where hope used to be.