When My Alpha Chose My Sister as Luna

The side door to Jonathan’s private lounge clicked open.

Charlotte stepped into the study, smooth and unhurried. Her silk robe swished against the floorboards. She had been listening by the door the entire time. There wasn't a trace of surprise on her face—only a faint, satisfied curl at the edge of her mouth.

She walked straight toward me, her eyes drifting down to my stomach before rising to meet mine.

"You really should have stayed quiet, Maya," she whispered. Her voice was dripping with honey, soft and gentle, like a sister offering comfort.

Then her hands slammed into my shoulders.

Because Jonathan’s Alpha tone still locked every muscle in my body, I couldn't brace myself. I couldn't even put my hands out to catch my fall.

I flew backward.

The glass partition between the study and the second-floor gallery exploded against my spine. The crash was deafening—a thunderous crack of shattering tempered glass that echoed through the entire pack house.

Shards tore through my gray tunic, ripping deep into my arms, my back, and my neck. I hit the polished stone floor of the gallery hard, knocking the wind straight out of my lungs.

Pain tore through my abdomen—not dull anymore, but a blinding, violent white fire.

Instantly, heat gushed between my thighs.

Dark, heavy blood spread out across the pale gray stone, soaking into my clothes, pooling around my hips. My breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. My vision swam in dark red pulses.

Footsteps echoed from below. Shouts broke out. Within seconds, a dozen pack members rushed up the stairs, freezing at the edge of the landing. Warriors, Omegas, kitchen staff—they all stared at the jagged sea of glass and the blood expanding under me.

Jonathan stepped through the ruined doorway.

He didn't rush to my side. He didn't drop to his knees. He simply stood there in the frame of broken glass, his hands resting easily at his sides.

"Jonathan..." I tried to whisper, but only blood and saliva bubbled past my lips.

Desperate, I reached inside my chest. I reached for the sacred mate bond between us, begging for him to feel the life slipping out of me.

What I felt on the other end froze me to my core.

A wall of black ice.

Jonathan had deliberately blocked the bond. He severed the emotional link with cold, surgical detachment. He stood ten feet away, watching his own child bleed to death on the pack house floor, and he chose to feel nothing at all. He didn't even call for the pack doctor.

Tears finally spilled over my cheeks, hot against the freezing stone.

"Someone get the healer!" a terrified young Omega screamed from the back of the crowd. "She’s bleeding out! Please!"

The healer rushed in, knees skidding in my blood, but it was already over. Deep inside me, the faint, fragile flutter of life went completely cold.

The world went black.

***

I woke up to the smell of antiseptic and clean linen.

Light streamed through the high, barred windows of the pack infirmary. My body felt carved out, hollow and leaden. Bandages wrapped tightly around my back and arms, stinging with every shallow breath.

I moved my trembling right hand down under the thin blanket and pressed my palm flat against my lower belly.

Empty.

There was nothing left. No heartbeat. No warmth. Only an aching, hollow void that felt like a crater blasted through my soul.

The door opened with a quiet creak.

Jonathan stepped into the room. He wore a crisp navy suit, freshly pressed, looking every bit the proud, capable Alpha. He pulled a wooden chair up to the side of my bed and sat down.

For a moment, he just looked at me. His face softened into that familiar, practiced tenderness—the same look he had given me for three years while he slipped wolfsbane into my dinner.

"You gave us quite a scare, Maya," he said smoothly. His voice was low and calm, as if he were discussing a minor logistics issue at a pack meeting.

I didn't answer. I didn't take my hand off my stomach.

"Charlotte’s Luna Investiture is in four days," he continued, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "The Lycan Council elders are arriving to confirm her status. It needs to be flawless. No rumors. No awkward questions about pack unity."

He paused, tilting his head slightly.

"I need you to write her investiture speech," Jonathan said, his tone entirely casual. "And you will stand before the Council elders and deliver the opening endorsement yourself. You will vouch for Charlotte's character, her lineage, and her fitness to lead Ironcrest beside me."

I stared at the ceiling tiles, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached.

"And if I say no?" my voice cracked, dry as ash.

Jonathan smiled faintly. He reached over and tapped the edge of my nightstand with his thumb.

"Then I’ll be forced to sign a formal decree declaring Madeline Murray a rogue."

The air in the room seemed to freeze.

"A rogue within our borders has no legal rights, Maya," Jonathan explained, speaking with the measured patience of a schoolteacher. "Pack law allows any warrior from any pack to hunt her and kill her on sight. Her scent will be flagged along the perimeter by sunset. She wouldn't last three miles into the forest."

He stood up, smoothing his lapels with a crisp snap of fabric.

"Think about your mother," he said softly. "It’s a simple speech, Maya. Do this, and Madeline stays safe in the lower cottages. Deliver Charlotte her Luna title, and your debt to this pack is settled."

He waited for my breakdown. He waited for me to cry, to beg, to scream like I had in the study.

I kept my hand pressed against my empty stomach. Slowly, I turned my head to face him.

"I'll write the speech," I whispered. "I'll stand before the Council."

Jonathan’s shoulders relaxed. A smug, patronizing smirk touched the corner of his lips. He thought he had won. He thought the broken girl in the bed was finally tamed.

"Good girl," he murmured, turning toward the door. "I knew you’d be reasonable."

He walked out, letting the door click shut behind him.

He didn't look closely enough. If he had, he would have noticed the tears were gone.

My eyes were stone.

Forty-one jars of poison were waiting beneath the floorboards. The Luna Accord was waiting in the ancient law books. And in four days, in front of the entire Lycan Council, I was going to strip him of everything he owned.