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My Alpha Let His Luna Poison Our Baby Novel Cover

My Alpha Let His Luna Poison Our Baby

The dust of the Rogue Lands still coated my tongue, a gritty reminder of the three months I’d spent fighting back-to-back with the man walking beside me. The Silverclaw Pack territory opened up before us, a sprawling expanse of pine and fog that usually signaled safety. Today, it felt different. Heavier. I touched the flat of my stomach, a subconscious gesture I was still getting used to. My wolf, Vex, purred in the back of my mind, sensing the tiny spark of life growing inside me. An heir. A pup created from the blood and sweat of the battlefield, forged in the heat of the fated bond I shared with Alpha Preston Graham. "We made it," I murmured, looking up at him. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on the gathering crowd ahead.
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Chapter 2

The vibration of Preston’s Alpha Command still hummed in my marrow, a dull, phantom ache that made my knees feel like water. I wasn't in the cells, but I might as well have been. The "guest room" on the second floor was small, dusty, and stripped of comforts. It was a far cry from my quarters in the Warrior’s Wing, where my weapons hung on the walls and the scent of pine oil and steel usually soothed me.

I sat on the edge of the narrow bed, my hand resting protectively over my flat stomach. Vex, my wolf, paced in the back of my mind, her claws scraping against my consciousness. She wanted blood. She wanted to shift and tear through the door, but the lingering weight of Preston’s order kept us both leashed.

The lock clicked. The door swung open, revealing a young woman holding a silver tray.

It was Elena, Isabelle’s personal Omega. She was a mouse of a girl with shifting eyes and a permanent sneer that she only wore when she thought no one important was looking. The smell of cold, greasy stew wafted from the tray.

"Dinner," she said flatly, not bothering with honorifics.

She walked toward the small table in the corner but stopped short. With a theatrical clumsiness, she tilted the tray. The bowl slid off, crashing onto the floor. Brown sludge splattered across my combat boots and the hem of my pants.

"Oops," Elena said. Her voice lacked even a shred of apology. "My hand slipped. I guess you’re used to messes, though. Living in the dirt with the rogues and all."

I stood up slowly, my jaw tightening. "Get out, Elena. Before I make you lick it up."

She didn't flinch. If anything, her smirk widened. She took a step closer, emboldened by my lack of status. "You don't give orders anymore, Natalie. You’re just a spare part now. A warrior without a war."

"I am the Lead Warrior of this pack," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

"Are you?" She laughed, a high, grating sound. "Isabelle says you’re just a breeder now. And honestly? It’s probably for the best. We all know how the Fox bloodline ends."

My blood went cold. "Careful."

"Your father, Gamma Malik... your brother, Kylan..." She tutted, shaking her head mockingly. "They weren't heroes. They were foolish meat shields. They died because they were too stupid to duck. Weak blood always spills the easiest. It’s a mercy Preston is breeding it out of you."

The tether on my temper snapped.

I didn't think. I moved with the speed that had kept Preston alive in the Rogue Lands for three years. In a blur of motion, I crossed the room. My hand clamped around Elena’s throat, and I slammed her back against the wall. Her feet lifted inches off the floor, the tray clattering loudly as it hit the ground.

"You speak their names again," I snarled, my face inches from hers, "and I will rip your tongue out."

Elena’s eyes bulged, her hands clawing uselessly at my wrist. I wasn't squeezing hard enough to kill, just enough to terrify. Vex roared in approval, urging me to tighten my grip.

"Help!" A scream tore through the hallway. "Preston! Help! She’s killing her!"

I froze. Standing in the open doorway was Isabelle. She looked pristine, horrified, and completely fake. She wasn't looking at me; she was looking down the hall.

Heavy footsteps thundered toward us. The air pressure in the room dropped instantly—the sign of an angry Alpha approaching.

Preston appeared in the doorway, his chest heaving. His eyes were dark, his aura flaring out in suffocating waves. He took in the scene: the spilled food, the terrified Omega, and his pregnant mate pinning a servant to the wall.

"Natalie!" His voice was a crack of thunder. "Release her!"

I dropped Elena. She crumpled to the floor, gasping and clutching her throat, instantly playing up the drama with loud, hacking coughs.

"She attacked her!" Isabelle rushed to Preston’s side, clutching his arm with trembling hands. "Elena just brought her dinner, Preston! I saw it! Natalie just snapped! She’s dangerous!"

"She insulted my father!" I shouted, turning to face him. I pointed a shaking finger at the cowering Omega. "She called Malik and Kylan meat shields. She mocked their sacrifice!"

Preston looked at Elena, then back at me. I saw the flicker in his eyes. He knew. He could smell the deception on Elena, the scent of fear mixed with malicious triumph. He knew I wouldn't attack without provocation.

But then he looked at Isabelle. He looked at the woman who held the key to the Blood Moon alliance.

His expression hardened into stone.

"It doesn't matter what she said," Preston stated coldly. "You are a trained killer, Natalie. She is an Omega. You do not touch a pack member. Ever."

"She spat on the memory of the men who saved the Lycan Prince!" I argued, my voice cracking with betrayal. "You owe your life to my protection, Preston. Do not stand there and lecture me on discipline!"

"Enough!" he roared, the Alpha tone slamming into me again, silencing my retort.

The hallway was filling up now. Pack elders, warriors—my former subordinates—were gathering, whispering. Preston straightened his jacket, addressing the crowd as much as me.

"You have proven you cannot control your wolf," Preston announced, his voice carrying through the corridor. "You are unstable. And you are disrespectful to the future Luna."

"Preston, don't," I whispered, realizing what was coming.

"I hereby strip you of your rank," he said, delivering the words like a physical blow. "You are no longer Lead Warrior of the Silverclaw Pack."

A gasp went through the onlookers. I felt like I had been gutted. My rank wasn't just a job; it was my identity. It was the legacy of the Fox bloodline.

"You can't," I breathed.

"I just did," Preston replied, his face devoid of the love I had seen there only yesterday. He gestured to two Delta guards. "Escort her to the Omega quarters. The guest wing is too good for someone who attacks servants."

Isabelle hid a smile behind her hand, pretending to wipe away a tear. Elena scrambled up, shooting me a vindictive glare from behind Preston’s back.

"Move," one of the guards said, grabbing my arm. It was Miller, a boy I had trained myself. He couldn't even look me in the eye.

I shook his hand off. I wouldn't let them drag me. I stood tall, channeling every ounce of dignity my father had instilled in me. I looked Preston dead in the eye, letting him see the heartbreak, and then the wall of ice that rose to cover it.

"You are making a mistake, Alpha," I said quietly.

Then, I turned and walked toward the servants' quarters, leaving the shattered remains of my life behind me.

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