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Stolen Cub, Shattered Bond Novel Cover

Stolen Cub, Shattered Bond

After a brutal attack leaves her pack in ruins, Elara is forced into exile, her newborn pup stolen by a ruthless rival Alpha. Years later, she returns under a false identity to reclaim her child from the very man who destroyed her life. As she infiltrates his inner circle, Elara must navigate a web of lies and shifting loyalties. However, a simmering attraction to her sworn enemy threatens to derail her mission and shatter her heart.
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Chapter 2

Sophia offered an apologetic smile. "Luna, I'm so sorry, the Elder urgently needs these. I must deal with this now. With the Alpha beside you, I have every confidence. You'll be fine."

It's precisely because of Derek that I'm not fine! I screamed inwardly.

Before I could protest further, Sophia was already striding purposefully towards the guest wing.

Derek adjusted his hold, that infuriatingly confident expression back on his face. "Relax, darling. I've got you."

A vicious contraction robbed me of speech. I wrapped my arms around his neck and suddenly sank my teeth into the soft flesh of his neck.

"Hiss—" He sucked in a sharp breath, his muscles locking tight.

A petty thrill of revenge shot through me. This child was half his blood; why should I bear the pain alone?

But the fleeting victory was quickly drowned by despair. The feeling of knowing a trap lay ahead yet being forced to walk into it was suffocating.

No. I won't submit. Rebirth isn't meant for repeating mistakes.

I released my bite, leaning my head against his shoulder to gather my strength. If I couldn't find help, the pack’s clinic was my last battleground.

Inside the vehicle, Derek rubbed my back soothingly while constantly urging the driver, "Faster! Go faster!"

He played the perfect Mate, his brow furrowed as if sharing my agony.

I closed my eyes, a bitter twist forming on my lips.

Derek, are you truly worried about us, or just afraid your 'repayment plan' will go awry?

The harsh fluorescent lights of the delivery room made me squint.

Drawing on my past life's experience, I focused on controlling my breathing. Pain crashed over me in relentless waves, warping time.

Finally, I felt a release.

"Wah—" The infant's first cry was abruptly cut short.

Why did the crying stop? I struggled to push myself up just in time to see a nurse hurrying away with a swaddled bundle.

"My baby! Where are you taking him?" I tried to follow, but the witch doctor firmly pressed me back onto the bed.

Above his mask, his eyes held a false sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Luna. The child didn't survive. For your health, let the Alpha handle the arrangements."

My heart plummeted. So the entire clinic staff was in Derek's pocket. Whatever happened, they would feed me the same lie.

In my past life, exhaustion had claimed me, and I'd swallowed the lie whole. But not this time.

"I don't believe you," I stated flatly, locking eyes with the witch doctor. "Not a single word." My child was alive. This time, I would find him.

I slapped my palm hard against the back of his hand pressing me down. "I heard my baby cry! Where are you taking him?"

The witch doctor's hand reddened, but he only shook his head resignedly.

"Luna, another woman is delivering in the next room. You're overwrought, imagining things." His tone carried a deliberate patience. "You're young. Focus on recovering your strength. Children... there will be more."

The words were like a dull blade, slowly sawing through my memories. The witch doctor's face blurred, morphing into the stern visages of the Elders:

"Luna, losing a child is painful, but is destroying the family worth it?"

"The Alpha made this decision with great difficulty. A life debt must be repaid; it's our tradition."

"Arthur sacrificed his fertility saving the Alpha. This is the most fitting compensation."

Then Derek's perpetually impatient face:

"Emma, enough. Arthur sacrificed so much for me. This is my debt."

"A healthy child—it's the best recompense I can give him."

My fingers clenched the bedsheet, twisting the fabric. In this absurd world, only Derek's suffering seemed valid.

He bore the weight of his debt, losing sleep.

He endured the agony of giving away his own flesh and blood.

He was in such pain, such torment.

And I—his Mate—instead of gratefully handing over our child, chose to scream and rage day after day, disrupting the household peace, denying Derek his rest.

How utterly selfish.

The Elders could counsel detachment so lightly because it wasn't their child.

Derek could blithely promise another child because he wouldn't endure the pregnancy.

No one asked my consent.

No one cared about my pain.

The resentment of my past life and the fury of this one boiled within me, coalescing into a surge of unprecedented strength.

I lunged, grabbing the witch doctor by his collar, using the grip to haul myself upright.

"You say my child is dead?" My voice was a ragged whisper. "Then show me the body! If you have nothing to hide, why won't you let me see my own child?"

The witch doctor's face flushed crimson as I tightened my grip. A nurse rushed over, trying to pry my fingers loose.

"Cough... Luna is hysterical!" the witch doctor choked out. "Prepare a sedative!"

The nurse swiftly fetched a syringe while another pinned me back onto the bed.

The witch doctor adjusted the needle, its cold point glinting under the lights.

"You'll thank us for this, Luna," he murmured. "It's for your own good."

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