My Mate Tried to Kill Me for an Heir

The wind screamed against the rotting logs of the derelict hunting cabin like a dying animal. Outside, a supernatural blizzard was tearing across the Northern Territories, burying my ancestral lands under feet of unforgiving ice and snow. But the chill in the air was nothing compared to the violent fever burning through my veins.

I curled tighter into a ball on the moldy cot in the back room, my teeth chattering so hard my jaw ached. For three years, I had locked my inner wolf inside a suffocating mental cage. I did it for love. I did it to be the gentle, submissive Luna that Alpha Lucian Arnold claimed to want after he saved me from a brutal rogue ambush. But suppressing a Lycan spirit—especially one as massive and dominant as mine—was like holding a boulder over an erupting geyser. The sheer physical strain of hiding my Alpha aura, combined with the unnatural, biting cold of this freak storm, had finally broken my immune system.

Through the cracked wooden door, I could see the flickering orange glow of the hearth in the main room. Lucian was sitting on the only intact chair, carefully wrapping his thick, insulated wool coat around the shoulders of his Beta assistant, Daphne Flores. He murmured something soft to her, his hand lingering on her waist. He hadn't checked on me once since I collapsed two hours ago.

I closed my eyes, trying to force my breathing to slow. As I drifted in the hazy space between consciousness and sleep, the intense fever began to melt away the heavy mental barriers I had built to suppress my wolf. For the first time in years, my Lycan hearing bled through, sharp and undeniable.

Over the howling wind, their hushed voices drifted through the thin walls.

"We can't wait any longer, Lucian," Daphne murmured, her tone smooth and poisonous. "The storm is peaking. If we do it tonight, no one will question it. We can blame the cold, or say a stray rogue got into the cabin."

"I know," Lucian replied. His voice was entirely devoid of the warm, protective Alpha tone he always used in public. It was cold, calculating. "Once she's dead, the Northern territory dowry officially defaults to my name. I'll finally have the power and the land I deserve. I'm so sick of enduring her pathetic, clinging weakness just to secure the rights."

I stopped breathing. The words struck me harder than a physical blow.

*Enduring her weakness.*

"And our pup will have the legacy he deserves," Daphne purred. I heard the rustle of clothing, the unmistakable sound of Lucian's hand sliding over her stomach. "A true heir. Not like that barren, wolfless bitch in the next room."

A tear slipped hot and fast down my cheek, immediately turning cold. *Our pup.* Lucian had told me I was broken. He had watched me cry myself to sleep month after month, letting me believe my "weak" wolf was the reason we couldn't conceive. Three years of twisting myself into knots, of burying my legendary past as the Lycan King's most lethal enforcer, all for a man who had orchestrated a long con for my bloodline and my land.

The floorboards creaked. Heavy footsteps approached the back room.

I tried to scramble backward, to sit up and face them, but my muscles refused to obey. The door swung open, hitting the wall with a dull thud. Lucian stood in the doorway, the firelight casting long, demonic shadows across his face. Daphne stood right behind him, a wicked smirk playing on her lips.

Lucian looked down at my open eyes. The fake, gentle husband mask melted away instantly, leaving nothing but pure, unadulterated cruelty.

"Awake, are we?" he sneers, his upper lip curling in disgust.

"Lucian..." My voice was a raspy whisper. "Why?"

He didn't bother to answer. He lunged.

His heavy hands slammed into my shoulders, pinning me flat against the rotting mattress. I thrashed weakly, trying to call upon the beast I had buried so deeply, but the fever had sapped every ounce of my physical strength.

Daphne stepped out from behind him, holding a small glass vial. The acrid, burning stench of liquid wolfsbane hit my nose, making my eyes water.

"Drink up, Luna," Daphne mocked, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

I pressed my lips tightly together, turning my head, but Lucian's fingers dug viciously into my jaw. He squeezed the pressure points until my mouth popped open with a gasp of pain. Daphne tilted the vial, pouring the burning liquid down my throat.

I choked, coughing violently, but it was too late. It was a paralytic mixed with bane. Liquid fire erupted in my veins, racing through my bloodstream before settling into a terrifying, heavy numbness. My arms and legs turned to lead. I couldn't move a single muscle.

"She can't even shift to save herself," Lucian sneered, looking down at my paralyzed body. "Pathetic runt."

Daphne laughed. She leaned down and violently ripped the heavy, fur-lined coat from my shoulders. She yanked off my thick thermal boots, tossing them into the corner. In seconds, I was stripped down to just a thin sweater and leggings. The freezing drafts of the cabin immediately bit into my bare skin, sinking into my bones, but the drug prevented me from even shivering.

Lucian grabbed me by the collar of my sweater. With a grunt of effort, he began to drag my dead weight across the rough floorboards, pulling me out of the bedroom and toward the front door.

Beyond that wooden frame, the blizzard shrieked, a frozen white void of certain death.

They thought they were dragging a weak, useless Luna out to freeze in the snow. They thought my silence was submission. But as the paralyzing cold of the floor seeped into my skin, the suffocating cage in my mind finally shattered. Deep within the dark recesses of my soul, a pair of massive, glowing golden eyes snapped open.