You Chose a Stronger Luna, So Why Are Your Alphas Only Listening to Me

"You have thirty minutes," Caleb said, his voice hard as iron. "Serena stays inside the bay with you. If any patient makes a hostile move, she takes command."

Ivy snapped her medical kit shut. "I don't need an armed guard to administer a neuro-stabilizer."

"You don't have a choice," Caleb replied. "You might have an Institute title now, Ivy, but you're still on pack territory. I'm responsible for containment."

Serena stepped up beside him, a thin, triumphant smile touching the corners of her mouth. She signaled toward the corridor doors. Three senior pack enforcers walked in, their arms crossed over tactical vests.

Ivy recognized all three. They were the same council guards who had stood in the courtyard five years ago, watching in cold silence as the elders stripped her of her pack rights and ordered her exile.

Serena had brought them here on purpose. She wanted an audience. She wanted every wolf in Grey Ridge to see that the banished Omega was still the same fragile girl who couldn't stomach the sight of an aggressive Alpha.

Ivy ignored them completely. She picked up her case, keyed the entry code for Isolation Unit 2, and stepped through the reinforced airlock.

Inside, the air was thick with the sharp scent of burnt silver and raw sweat.

The patient, an enforcer named Gregory, was strapped to a tilted steel gurney. His hands were bound in reinforced leather, but the heavy silver collar around his throat had already scorched his skin into raw, blistered patches. His eyes darted in erratic horizontal jerks, his jaws snapping at empty air.

"Prepare ten milligrams of neuro-inhibitor," Ivy instructed the trauma nurse standing by the medication cart.

"No," Serena interrupted from the doorway, resting her hand on the silver-plated grip of her sidearm. "Standard procedure for a Stage-Three rage spike is twenty milligrams of sedative with a neural shock harness."

"Give him that dose and his respiratory system will collapse within sixty seconds," Ivy said without looking back.

She drew the clear liquid into a pneumatic injector and took a step toward the gurney.

Gregory's head snapped toward the movement. His pupils dilated into solid black, a guttural roar tearing from his chest. With a violent, bone-snapping wrench, he tore his right arm free from the leather strap, the heavy metal buckle gouging a bloody trench into his own forearm.

He launched himself forward, lunging straight at Ivy's throat.

"Get back!" Serena yelled.

Before Ivy could react, Serena shoved past her and slammed her palm onto the wall console, engaging the emergency silver discharge.

A high-voltage surge ripped through the collar around Gregory's neck. The smell of sizzling flesh filled the small chamber.

Gregory didn't collapse. The excruciating burn detonated his sensory overload, sending his nervous system straight into full synaptic shock. His back arched violently, his roar turning into an ear-splitting shriek as he thrashed against the remaining straps, his free hand clawing wildly at his own face.

"Shut it off!" Ivy shouted.

"He's attacking!" Serena drew her shock baton, raising it toward the thrashing wolf. "Hold him down!"

Ivy stepped straight between Serena and the control console, blocking the weapon with her shoulder.

"I said shut it off!" Ivy commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos with absolute authority.

She reached out and slapped the master breaker down. The electrical hum died instantly.

Serena grabbed Ivy's jacket. "You just endangered the entire team—"

"Step back and shut your mouth," Ivy snapped, wrenching herself free.

Ivy turned back to the thrashing Alpha. She didn't draw a weapon. She didn't shout an Alpha Command.

She dropped her shoulders, lowering her center of gravity to remove any physical threat. She kept her gaze fixed firmly on the floor two inches in front of Gregory's knees, completely breaking direct eye contact.

Then, she began to breathe.

Slow. Steady. Deep, rhythmic exhalations that cut through the frantic energy of the room like a metronome.

She reached into her vest pocket, crushed an ampoule of scent-neutralizing botanical oil between her fingers, and held her hand open. The soothing, earthy vapor spread between them, instantly muting the sharp pheromones of fear and aggression flooding the chamber.

"The threat is gone, Gregory," Ivy murmured, keeping her tone low and flat. "Nobody is striking you. Let the noise go."

Gregory's claws remained inches from her knee, trembling with violent spasms. His chest heaved in ragged gasps. He glared at her bent head, his snarl vibrating through the concrete floor.

Ivy didn't flinch. She kept her eyes lowered, her breathing unchanged, steady and rhythmic.

Five seconds passed. Ten.

The tension in Gregory's massive shoulders began to unravel. His fingers uncurled, the rigid muscles in his neck loosening as the agonizing sensory flood receded. With a long, shuddering exhale, he collapsed forward, pressing his forehead against the cold linoleum floor right in front of her boots.

He was still.

Outside the glass, the enforcers stood frozen. Serena stared at the kneeling Alpha, her jaw slack, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

Ivy knelt down beside Gregory, pulling her diagnostic scanner from her pocket. She ran the blue beam over his upper torso, studying the red thermal signatures spreading across the screen.

"Look at this," Ivy said, projecting the holographic readout onto the wall monitor.

Caleb stepped into the doorway, his eyes darting between the subdued wolf and the glowing scan.

"He wasn't trying to tear my throat out," Ivy said, pointing to a dark cluster of inflamed tissue on the monitor. "He has an untreated clavicle fracture on his left side. The viral infection settled directly into the damaged nerve roots."

She looked straight up at Caleb.

"Every time Serena shocked him, the pain radiated through that fracture line. He wasn't attacking out of rage. He was flailing because his brain thought his left side was being crushed. He was protecting his injury."

Caleb stared at the scan. The color slowly drained from his face.

The words echoed in his ears with haunting clarity.

Five years ago, during the annual warrior trials, a young pack wolf had gone wild in the ring, snapping at everyone who approached. The council had called it rogue blood. They had ordered the beast executed, demanding Ivy use her submission bond to force it down.

Ivy had refused. She had stood in front of the beast with tears in her eyes, screaming at Caleb over the noise of the crowd: *Look at his back leg! That wolf is hurt! He's just hurt!*

Nobody had listened to her. Caleb had called her weak, unfit for an Alpha's pack, and signed the execution order himself before banishing her from Grey Ridge.

Caleb took a shaky step closer to the gurney, his throat tight. "You... you knew back then."

"I knew," Ivy said coldly, wiping the sweat from her brow. "You just didn't care to check."

Before Caleb could answer, the heavy blast doors at the far end of the emergency corridor rattled with a deafening crash.

Alarms wailed through the ceiling speakers, their red strobes flashing violently.

"Breach at the lower transport dock!" a panicked voice shouted over the intercom. "Medical transport from Blackwood territory just forced entry! We need enforcers now!"

"Blackwood?" Serena gasped, her hand dropping to her holster. "Why would our rivals bring a patient here?"

Caleb cursed and ran into the hallway, Ivy following close behind.

The double reinforced security gates were torn off their hinges. Six armed guards from the border patrol tumbled backward onto the floor, bruised and bleeding, dragging heavy broken chains behind them.

Through the smoke and flashing red lights, a massive figure surged into the corridor.

He was half-shifted, towering over the guards, his dark hair matted with blood. Shattered iron links hung from his wrists and throat, trailing behind him as he shattered a medical cart with a single swipe of his arm. His amber eyes were completely bloodshot, clouded by the terrifying black haze of terminal Moon-Rage.

"Weapons up!" Serena screamed, raising her silver sidearm.

Caleb stepped forward, his Alpha aura exploding outward with bone-crushing force. *"Stand down!"* he roared.

The feral wolf didn't even flinch. He completely ignored Caleb's command, shoving past him with terrifying speed, his claws extended to strike.

He charged straight down the hallway—aiming directly at Ivy.

"Ivy, move!" Caleb shouted, lunging to grab her.

It was too late. The beast crossed the distance in a single heartbeat, closing the gap until he was barely a foot away from her.

Ivy didn't run. She stood her ground, her gaze locking onto the frantic, pain-filled eyes behind the beast's snarling muzzle.

One pace away from her chest, the Alpha came to an abrupt, violent halt.

The snarl died in his throat. The tension holding his massive frame rigid dissolved in an instant. His claws slowly retracted into blunt fingers, his trembling hands sinking to his sides.

Without a single command spoken, the terrifying beast lowered his head, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead against the floor right at Ivy's feet.

Silence slammed into the corridor like a physical shockwave.

Ivy looked down, her breath catching as she noticed the crumpled intake folder clutched in the hand of a fallen transport medic.

The bloodstained header read:

*Patient: Ronan Black, Alpha of the Blackwood Pack.*