After My Alpha Rejected Me and Killed Our Pup

I was still on the floor when I felt it.

The mate mark on my neck went cold.

Not the gradual chill of something fading. Instant. Hollow. Like a door slamming shut inside my body, cutting off circulation to a limb I hadn't realized was still warm.

I pressed my hand harder against my belly, trying to hold the pup in place through sheer will. The cramping had stopped. That should have been good. It wasn't. The stillness inside me was worse than the pain.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Pack members, finally. I tried to lift my head, tried to call out, but my voice came out as nothing more than a rasp.

They stopped at the far end of the hall. I saw their shadows shift. Heard low voices conferring.

No one approached.

I lay there in the blood pooling beneath me and understood: they were waiting for permission. Waiting to see if their Alpha wanted his rejected mate retrieved, or if he wanted her left exactly where she was.

The cold from the mark spread down my shoulder, across my chest, into the space where the pup had been kicking hours ago. My body convulsed once, violently, and I felt something inside me tear free.

The hemorrhaging worsened.

I turned my face against the stone floor and felt my lips shape a word I didn't have breath to speak: *please*.

The shadows at the end of the corridor moved away.

***

When I woke, I was in the healer's room.

Maren's face hovered above me, pale and tight. She was pressing something against my abdomen—bandages, I realized distantly. Soaked through already.

"Don't move," she said quietly.

I tried to speak. My throat was raw. "The pup—"

"Lily." Her hands stilled. She didn't look at me. "I'm sorry."

The words landed with no weight at all. I stared at the ceiling and felt nothing, which was worse than feeling everything.

The door opened.

Maverick walked in first, his mother half a step behind. He stopped at the foot of my cot, his hands loose at his sides, his expression carefully neutral. Victoria's gaze swept over me with the same clinical assessment she'd used three days ago, landing on the blood-soaked bandages with something that looked almost like vindication.

"Well." Victoria's voice carried to every corner of the room. "I suppose that settles it."

I turned my head on the pillow and looked at her.

She met my gaze without flinching. "A wolfless she-wolf attempting to carry an Alpha's bloodline. This was always going to be the outcome, Lily. Your body simply wasn't strong enough."

Maren's hands tightened on the bandages. She said nothing.

I looked at Maverick. He stood at the foot of the cot, his face unreadable, and did not contradict his mother.

"The pack needs stability," he said finally. His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "Carly will be installed as Luna effective immediately."

I felt my lips part. No sound came out.

Victoria nodded, satisfied. "A practical decision. The pack has been without proper leadership long enough."

Maverick's gaze slid past me to Maren. "Keep her comfortable. Let me know when she's stable enough to be moved to the guest quarters."

He turned and left. Victoria followed, her heels clicking against the stone floor in a rhythm that sounded almost triumphant.

The door closed.

I lay in the blood-soaked cot and felt the cold from the severed mark spread through my chest, into my limbs, settling into the hollow space where my wolf had always been silent. But this silence felt different. Deeper. Like something had been scraped out of me entirely.

Maren replaced the bandages without speaking. Her hands were gentle, efficient, and she still wouldn't meet my eyes.

I waited until she'd finished before I spoke.

"What caused it."

Her hands stilled on the fresh wrapping. "Lily—"

"What caused the pup's loss." My voice was steady. I was proud of that. "Tell me."

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the bloodied bandages she'd just removed. When she finally looked up, her expression was carefully blank.

"The biological shock of a severed mate bond during active labor," she said quietly, "is always catastrophic."

I stared at her.

She held my gaze for three seconds, then looked away. "I need to dispose of these."

She gathered the soiled bandages and left.

I lay alone in the healer's room, my hand pressed to the empty space where the pup had been, and felt something stir beneath the silence. Not a voice. Not a presence. Just a refusal.

Something ancient that would not consent to die.

I closed my eyes and filed Maren's words away with the same precision I'd used for every other piece of evidence I'd been collecting since the day I smelled Carly's scent on my bed.

Maren knew the truth.

And she knew that I knew.

That was enough for now.