The Alpha's Rejected Heir: A Mother's Revenge

My husband claimed he brought the surrogate into our bed to save my life. He said the Hatfield Curse killed every Alpha female in childbirth, so he needed another vessel for his heir. He swore it was just a clinical duty. But when he intercepted the "rogue" I was desperately trying to smuggle out of the pack lands, his duty turned into slaughter. Archie stood over the burlap sack that held my secret four-year-old son. He believed his mistress’s lie that the sack contained a dangerous weapon. I screamed until my throat bled, telling him it was his own flesh and blood inside. Archie just sneered, calling me insane. He raised his heavy military boot and stomped down hard. I heard the sickening crunch of small ribs snapping. A tiny, wheezing voice drifted from the flattened sack. "Pa... pa..." Archie froze for a second, but paranoia won. He stomped again, crushing the last breath out of our child. He ordered the "rogue trash" to be thrown to the scavengers and cast me into the dungeon to be torn apart by feral wolves. He thought he had saved the pack. He didn't know he had just murdered the only son who had survived the curse. I didn't die in that cell. I let the ocean take me, only to be pulled out by his greatest rival. Now, three months later, I’m walking back into his life. Not as his wife, but as his executioner.