My Mate Rejected Our Dying Child

The garden party was a masquerade of civility, but my nose knew better. Beneath the heavy clouds of expensive perfume and the savory smoke of roasting meat, something vile was festering. It hit me mid-sip of my sparkling water—a sharp, sulfurous tang that smelled like wet dog fur and old blood.

Rogue.

My wolf bristled beneath my skin, her instincts screaming *danger*. I scanned the manicured lawn, my eyes darting past the string quartet and the ice sculpture of a howling wolf. Creed was standing five feet away, laughing loudly at a joke made by Beta Marcus. He looked every inch the Alpha King, holding court while his Queen stood ignored in his shadow.

I stepped forward, gripping his bicep hard enough to wrinkle his suit jacket.

"Creed," I whispered, keeping my voice low but urgent. "We have a breach."

He stiffened, annoyed at the interruption, but didn't turn his head. "Not now, Winter. Beta Marcus was just telling me about the border expansion."

"I smell a Rogue," I hissed, leaning closer. "Here. Inside the perimeter. It’s faint, but it’s rancid. We need to clear the area."

Creed finally looked at me, but there was no alarm in his eyes—only exasperation. He pulled his arm from my grasp, making a show of smoothing his sleeve. The movement drew the attention of the Beta and the Gamma, who fell silent, watching us.

"A Rogue? Here?" Creed chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. He pitched his voice loud enough for the surrounding circle to hear. "Winter, darling, you really need to get out more. You're becoming hysterical."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "I know what I smell, Creed."

"You smell the compost from the gardens," he dismissed, rolling his eyes at Beta Marcus as if sharing a joke about a troublesome child. "She's been cooped up in the packhouse too long. Her instincts are... rusty. Paranoia is a side effect of isolation, isn't it?"

Beta Marcus gave me a pitying look, the kind one reserves for the mentally frail. "Of course, Alpha. The perimeter is secure. Perhaps the Luna needs to sit down?"

I stood frozen, the humiliation burning my throat like acid. He had just invalidated my authority and my sanity in front of his highest-ranking officers.

Before I could defend myself, a cloud of jasmine and rose assaulted my senses. Alina appeared at Creed's elbow, looking radiant and entirely too pleased with herself.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice dripping with faux concern. She placed a hand on Creed's chest, claiming him. "Winter, you look pale."

"Just a misunderstanding," Creed grunted.

"Well, I have something that might cheer everyone up," Alina beamed, clapping her hands together. "I've set up a special 'Petting Zoo' experience for the pups in the east garden! It's educational. I thought Jonas might want to see. It’s time the boys let the adults discuss boring pack business, don't you think?"

She turned her gaze to Jonas, who was clinging to the fabric of my dress.

"No," I said immediately. "He stays with me."

"Oh, Winter," Alina sighed, tilting her head. "Don't smother him. How will he ever learn to be brave if he's always hiding behind your skirt?"

She looked at Creed. "Don't you agree, Alpha? A future leader should be exploring, not trembling."

Creed looked down at Jonas, his expression hardening. The challenge was clear. "Go with Alina, Jonas. Stop acting like a pup and act like an heir."

Jonas looked up at me, his golden eyes wide with conflict. He wanted to stay, but the desperation to please his father was a stronger pull. He slowly let go of my dress.

"I'm brave, Daddy," Jonas whispered.

"Good lad," Creed nodded, already turning back to his drink. "Go on."

I watched helplessly as Alina took my son's hand. She flashed me a smile that didn't reach her eyes—a predator baring its teeth—and led him away toward the high hedges of the east garden. I tried to follow, but Gamma Vance stepped in front of me, blocking my path with a polite but firm smile.

"Luna, while we have you, I need to discuss the kitchen budget cuts..."

I was trapped.

It took me ten minutes to extricate myself from the conversation. My heart was hammering against my ribs, that sulfurous smell growing stronger with every breath. I abandoned all pretense of etiquette and pushed past the Gamma, practically running toward the east garden.

The "Petting Zoo" was a lie. There were no rabbits or goats.

In the center of a secluded clearing, surrounded by oblivious children and nannies, stood a heavy iron cage. Inside was a wolf—but not a pack wolf. It was massive, its fur patchy and matted with grime, a jagged scar running from its ear to its snout. Its eyes were a milky, crazed yellow. It was a Rogue, chained and drugged, but a Rogue nonetheless.

Alina was standing right next to the bars, holding her phone up for a selfie. She had positioned Jonas directly in front of the beast.

"Stand closer, Jonas!" Alina commanded, her voice high and bright for the video she was recording. "Show everyone how the Silverclaw heir isn't afraid of a little puppy!"

Jonas was trembling, his small body rigid. He could smell it too—the rot, the madness. His genetic intolerance to Rogue aura was making him sway on his feet, his skin turning a sickly shade of gray.

"I... I don't like it," Jonas whimpered, clutching his chest.

"Don't be a baby," Alina hissed, her smile vanishing for a split second. "Smile for the camera."

I was running now, screaming his name, but I was too far away.

As Jonas turned to look at the lens, I saw Alina’s hand slip behind her back. She held a small, sharp object—a decorative hat pin. With a cruel, precise movement, she jammed the pin into the Rogue wolf’s flank through the bars.

The beast didn't just growl; it erupted.

The drug-induced stupor shattered instantly. The Rogue lunged against the iron, its aura flaring out in a violent, invisible shockwave of malice and corruption. The force of it hit Jonas point-blank.

My son didn't even scream. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed onto the grass like a puppet with its strings cut.