My Alpha Took My Son

The year of the great famine was a time of unrelenting despair. My mother, the light of my life, was on the brink of death. In a moment of sheer desperation, I was approached by Alpha Daniel's mother. She offered me a deal. "Become Luna for ten years, and your mother will be saved," . I agreed, not knowing the true extent of the sacrifice I was about to make. It was only later that I discovered the real reason behind her offer. I was a mere substitute. I resembled Snow, the woman Alpha Daniel had loved with a passion that burned bright and fierce. But Snow had betrayed him, running off with another man and bearing his child. And so, I was brought in, a stand - in,. The day of my wedding was a farce. The grand hall was filled with the laughter and chatter of the pack. From that moment on, our marriage was a living nightmare. Over the next ten years, he took concubine after concubine, filling the castle with the sounds of their laughter and their whispers. And when the day of my child's birth arrived I lay in the birthing chamber, screaming in agony, while Alpha Daniel was in the arms of another woman, lost in a world of pleasure. Despite my best efforts, I could not save my child. And when my contract with Sara finally expired, I did not hesitate. I gathered my mother, who had miraculously survived the famine, and we left that place of pain and suffering behind. It was only later that Alpha Daniel discovered the truth. He learned of Snow's betrayal, of the lies that had been told. But by then, it was too late.

Andrea was the very model of a Capital City heiress—disciplined, proper, flawless. But in this moment, she was lost in her husband’s relentless rhythm. Under the warm canopy of their curtained bed, Andrea’s eyes, hazy with pleasure, gazed up adoringly at William as he moved above her with a low groan. In the final instant, he raised his hands and covered her eyes. His whisper brushed her ear. “Be good. Give it to me.” Blushing, Andrea arched her back higher, offering herself to him completely. The next moment, a dagger plunged straight into her chest. William’s murmur turned vicious. “Be good! This time, give me your heart!” It was the eighth wound he had inflicted for Sandra’s sake. “Andrea, this is what you owe her. You have to bear it.” The haze in Andrea’s eyes vanished. She turned her face away, listening numbly to the flurry of movement in the room, her lowered gaze hollow with despair. Her voice came out flat. “Is that so? Then my debt is paid.” Whether it was the life he saved ten years ago, or the tangled disgrace from three. A decade past, during a city festival, William had rescued Andrea from a kidnapper’s grasp. Still a youth then, he’d been impatient with the little girl’s tears, yet he held her close, his voice gruff but steady. From that day, William was etched into Andrea’s heart. She watched him from afar at banquets, never daring to speak—because Sandra was always at his side. She saw him pick flowers for Sandra, tuck them into her hair. She saw him keep vigil all night in the Sanctum, praying for her protection. She saw him fly into a rage for Sandra’s sake, offend Prince Logan, and suffer injuries that kept him abed for half a year. Then, three years ago, a drugged William pulled a passing Andrea into a room. The girl’s secret longing was laid bare before the world. Everyone said the young miss of Andrea’s Family Estate was lovesick and desperate, that she’d used a vile trick to climb into the bed of the newly-engaged young marquis—forcing him to break his childhood promise and marry her instead. Even William believed it. He despised her utterly. So when Sandra collapsed, vomiting blood, during their betrothal ceremony, William drove a sword into Andrea’s chest without hesitation. A revered Sanctum seer had declared it her punishment for stealing another’s destined match; only a medicine from her heart’s blood could break the curse. And Andrea accepted it. Though none of it was her doing, the secret joy in her heart filled her with guilt. She thought one sword thrust had settled the debt. She never imagined it was only the beginning. Then came the second, on their wedding night. The third, at the Mid-Autumn banquet… up to this, the eighth. “Young Miss…” Her maid Layla’s voice, choked with tears, sounded in Andrea’s ear. Andrea turned her head, offering a smile uglier than any sob. “Tomorrow at the palace, I will ask Aunt Victoria to help me get a divorce!” From the day she met William until now—eight years. Three years, eight wounds. If one stab counted for each year, it was enough. Enough to cancel the past. *** The next morning, Andrea woke to find William sitting beside the bed, watching her with a complicated expression. “Sandra is well now. She…” Andrea hadn’t expected the first word from her husband to be that name. Three years of endurance shattered in an instant. “Sandra! Sandra! If your heart holds only Sandra, why did you marry me?” Her voice broke. “We are husband and wife! I… I’m in pain, too!” She tore the bandage from her chest, revealing the terrible lattice of scars beneath. William’s breath caught. He looked away, as if he couldn’t bear the sight, and carefully rewrapped the wound. “It won’t hurt anymore. Never again.” “Court Physician Patrick perfected an ointment. Next time, you won’t feel a thing.” Andrea’s voice died in her throat. She pushed William away and stared at him, perfectly still. Meeting her calm gaze, William felt a sudden, inexplicable pang of panic. “Get some rest.” He dropped the words and left. Andrea began to laugh—a raw, wrenching sound that twisted into tears. Why had she been foolish enough to believe William could ever ache for her? Even after three years of giving him everything he asked, managing his estate, enduring every slight—none of it equaled a single, careless glance from Sandra. Like last year’s harvest festival, when William gave her a bracelet. Sandra had merely glanced at it, and he’d immediately taken it from Andrea’s wrist—the very wrist he had placed it on. Andrea wiped her tears dry and called out sharply. “Layla, help me dress. We are going to the palace.”

In the brutal world of werewolves, Luna Zadre guards a secret that could destroy her family. But, for years she has felt her daughter, Cedrica, slipping away. And the fragile bond shatters when an enemy pack storms their home, but the greatest threat doesn’t come from outside. It comes from within. Varek, Luna’s long-lost lover, returns with a devastating revelation: he, not Sydney"s Cedrica’s true father. The truth rips through their lives, driving Cedrica to accuse Sydney of a past betrayal that Luna never saw coming. In one heartbreaking choice, Cedrica abandons the only family she has ever known to follow Varek. Now Luna is caught between two men, one who raised her daughter, and one who shares her bloodline. But as war rises and loyalties splinter, Luna realizes that love, betrayal, and power are entwined in ways she never imagined. The kingdom is on the brink. The battle lines are drawn. And the true fight for her daughter’s soul has only just begun.

During the eight months I carried our pup, Dominick and his Beta, Anne, booked hotel rooms nearly two hundred times. I knew, of course. Every whisper, every lingering glance, every scent of her on his clothes—they all screamed betrayal. But I chose to ignore it, focusing instead on the life growing inside me. The pup was precious, a future heir to the Silver Moon Pack, and I refused to let Dominick’s infidelity tarnish that. Still, the night before my due date, as I stood in the shadows of the packhouse stairwell, I overheard Dominick’s voice, low and reassuring, carrying through the cold air. "Relax, Anne. We used your essence in the ritual, so the pup won’t inherit Bridget’s weakness. Once the pup arrives safely, I’ll reject her. Just give me a little more time, alright?" His words struck me like a claw to the chest, tearing open old wounds and leaving them raw.

The champagne flutes caught the chandelier light like a thousand tiny suns, and I smiled through every single one of them. That was the job. That was always the job. I am Athena Bishop, Luna of the Dark Moon Pack, and tonight was our mating anniversary gala. Five years of what the pack called a blessed union—Kane's strength, my grace, two bloodlines woven together by the Moon Goddess herself. The great hall smelled of jasmine garlands and roasted boar, and somewhere behind me, a string quartet played something soft and romantic that I couldn't quite hear over the sound of my own heartbeat. I pressed my fingertips to the bite mark on my neck without thinking. An old habit. The warmth that used to radiate from that spot—that quiet, steady pulse of the bond—was barely there tonight. Thin.

The Alpha Queen brought my cousin to the Silver Moon Pack three years ago, and since then, every suitor who came to propose to her met with misfortune—either death or severe injury. The pack began to whisper that she was cursed, a harbinger of doom. Fearing for her, the Alpha Queen decided that Jaycee would marry alongside me, as a co-mate to Remington, the Alpha of our pack. Remington and I had grown up together, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him falling victim to the so-called curse. I protested fiercely, causing a scene in the packhouse, but my mother, the Alpha Queen, locked me in the storage room. From there, I could only watch as Jaycee was taken to the packhouse as his mate, while I was left to enter in the dead of night as his chosen one. When he saw me, he whispered, "Evelyn, your mother mixed up the order, but it doesn’t matter. My heart belongs only to you." He explained that Jaycee wanted a child to secure her place in the pack, believing it would shield her from further scorn. "Once she has a child, she’ll step aside, and you’ll take your rightful place," he promised. But after that night, I never saw him again.