My Mate Fed Me Wolfsbane for Nine Years

The great hall was already full when I arrived.

Not the solemn assembly I had convened. Not the respectful gathering of wolves waiting for their Luna to present evidence and demand justice. This was something else—a charged, restless crowd that had been told what to expect before I ever walked through the door.

I felt it the moment I crossed the threshold. The energy in the room wasn't neutral. It was pre-arranged.

I kept my face still and walked to the front. Taytum was with the pack healer, her wounds freshly dressed, her small body safe in a locked room where I had left explicit instructions that no one was to enter without my permission. I had kissed her forehead before I left. Told her I would be back soon.

I believed it when I said it.

I took my position at the center of the raised platform and let the silence settle. The elders sat in their usual seats along the curved table to my right. Gareth Wills would not look at me. Elder Corin's expression was carefully blank. The others stared at the floor or the walls or their own hands.

I opened the proceedings with the formal words. "I invoke my Luna authority to bring before this assembly a matter of bloodshed against a pack member under my protection. My daughter, Taytum Holden, was attacked three nights ago by members of this pack. She bears claw marks across her shoulders and puncture wounds from wolfsbane needles on both arms. I name the wolf responsible: Finnley Vane, son of Rachel Vane."

I let the words sit in the air.

No one moved.

"I demand accountability," I continued. "I demand immediate restoration of my daughter's pack protection status. And I demand that the wolves responsible face formal discipline under pack law."

Elder Corin opened his mouth—

And Rachel Vane stepped forward from the crowd.

She moved with the kind of confidence that only comes from rehearsal. Her dress was dark red, the neckline cut low and deliberate. On the left side of her neck, just above her collarbone, was a fresh marking bite.

Zachary's mark.

The crowd saw it. The reaction rippled through the hall like wind through tall grass—gasps, whispers, a few sharp intakes of breath. Rachel tilted her head just slightly, making sure everyone had a clear view.

Then she spoke.

Her voice carried an Alpha-tone I had never heard from her before. Not her own—borrowed, granted, channeled through a bond that should not exist while mine still did. The authority in it pressed against the room like a hand on the back of every neck.

"This assembly was called under false pretenses," Rachel said. Her eyes were on me, but her words were for the crowd. "Alice Ashford is not, and has never been, the legitimate Luna of this pack. She is a rogue who manipulated her way into the Alpha's bed through deception and forced attachment. The bond she claims is a fabrication. The title she wears is stolen."

The hall erupted.

I did not move.

I stood exactly where I was and let the noise crash over me. Let them shout. Let them whisper. Let them turn to each other with wide eyes and open mouths. I pressed my thumb against the inside of my wrist—once, briefly—and then lowered my hand.

When the noise finally settled, I spoke.

My voice did not rise. It dropped.

"Where is my mate?"

Rachel's smile was small and sharp. "Zachary has nothing left to say to you."

I looked past her to the elders. "I invoke pack law. Article Twelve, Section Four. A Luna may not be stripped of title without the Alpha's direct testimony before the council. Where is Alpha Zachary?"

Elder Corin cleared his throat. "The Alpha has granted his authority to his marked mate for the purposes of this proceeding."

"His marked mate," I repeated slowly, "is standing in front of you."

"Was," Rachel corrected. Her tone was almost gentle. "You were useful once, Alice. But you're not anymore."

The elders conferred. It took less than three minutes.

Elder Wills spoke without looking at me. "The council recognizes Rachel Vane as Alpha Zachary's legitimate mate and grants her the Luna title effective immediately. Alice Ashford's claim is hereby revoked."

The words landed like stones.

I did not let them show on my face.

"Then I invoke protection law," I said. "Regardless of adult proceedings, my daughter is a pack member by birth. She is entitled to protection status under—"

"The council calls a vote," Elder Corin interrupted.

Five hands rose.

Not all at once. One by one, like dominoes.

Elder Gareth Wills was the last. His hand lifted slowly, his eyes closed, his face the color of old paper.

Taytum's pack protection was gone.

Something inside me moved.

Not broke. Moved. Like a thing that had been caged and sedated and chained finally testing the walls of its prison and discovering they were thinner than anyone had promised.

My wolf slammed against the inside of my chest. Hard. The impact stole my breath for half a second, and I felt the wolfsbane in my blood recoil from something it could not suppress anymore.

Not yet. Not here.

But soon.

Rachel was still talking. She produced a pair of silver shackles from somewhere behind her and held them up for the assembly to see.

"Alice Ashford will be formally processed as the rogue intruder she always was," Rachel announced. "This pack will witness the correction of a decade's worth of fraudulent Luna authority."

Four she-wolves stepped forward from the crowd. Ranked wolves. Gammas and Deltas whose faces I recognized, whose names I knew, who had eaten at my table and smiled at my daughter.

They moved toward me.

I fought.

I drove my elbow into the first one's throat before she could grab my arm. She went down choking. The second lunged—I caught her wrist, twisted, used the joint lock I had read about in the prisoner rights appendix of the pack law codex three years ago and never thought I would need. Her shoulder popped. She screamed.

The third and fourth came together. I got one knee into the third's ribs, felt something crack, but the fourth had my hair and was pulling me backward. My wolf's fury was feeding my muscles through the poison, burning through the suppression with a heat that should not have been possible.

Two more she-wolves joined. Six total now.

They dragged me toward the doors.

I heard Taytum before I saw her.

Her scream cut through the chaos like a blade. High and raw and terrified. A sentry was holding her back at the hall's edge—she must have broken out of the healer's room, must have run here on her own small legs—and she was reaching for me with both hands, her face wet with tears, her voice breaking on my name.

"Mama! Mama, no—"

I twisted hard enough to see her. Met her eyes across the chaos.

And I said, clearly, without shouting:

"I'm coming back. Hold your stone."

Then they pulled me through the doors, and the great hall disappeared behind me.