When My Mate Murdered Our Unborn Pup

The morning sun offered no warmth in the town square. It felt as though the very heat had been sucked out of the Blood River territory, leaving the air brittle and gray. I stood beside Gunner on the raised platform, my hand gripping his so tightly my knuckles turned white. Below us, the pack gathered—warriors, mothers, elders—their faces gaunt with worry.

Mavis Torres stood in the center of the crowd, her white robes stark against the muddy ground. She didn't look like a stranger anymore; in just twenty-four hours, she had become a beacon of hope for everyone but me.

"The earth is crying," Mavis announced, her voice carrying without a microphone. She raised her hands, palms open to the sky. "I have walked your borders. I have tasted the soil. The wards are not failing because of an external attack. They are starving."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Gunner stiffened beside me. I could feel the tension radiating off him in waves. He was exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were bruises of fatigue, evidence of how much energy he was pouring into the failing barriers.

Mavis turned slowly, her eyes locking onto me. A cold shiver raced down my spine.

"Energy cannot be created or destroyed," she continued, her voice dropping to a sympathetic purr. "It flows. But here, in the heart of the pack, there is a void. A hollow vessel that consumes but does not give back."

She didn't say my name. She didn't have to. The crowd’s gaze shifted to me in unison. I saw the recognition in their eyes, the reignition of old hatreds. *The Black Widow. The Cursed One. The Wolf-less.*

"She is my mate!" Gunner growled, stepping forward, his Alpha command vibrating in the air. "She is your Luna."

"And I do not seek to harm her, Alpha," Mavis replied smoothly, bowing her head in false reverence. "I only speak what the Moon reveals. A mate without a wolf is like a lung without air. She unintentionally draws on your strength to survive the supernatural pressure of your aura. It is not her fault... but it is killing your pack."

The silence that followed was deafening. I felt like I was shrinking, the weight of a thousand accusing eyes crushing me. Gunner squeezed my hand, but for the first time in five years, his grip felt desperate rather than assured.

***

An hour later, the atmosphere in Gunner’s office was suffocating.

"I won't reject her," Gunner slammed his fist onto the mahogany desk, making the lamp rattle. "Do not suggest it, Mavis."

Mavis sat calmly in the visitor's chair, sipping herbal tea. "I would never suggest breaking a mate bond, Alpha. That is a sin against the Goddess. But Camila is sick. Her spirit is blocked."

She turned to me, her smile tight and predatory, though her eyes feigned concern. "There is a ritual. An ancient purification. If we can cleanse the blockage in her blood, her own wolf might finally awaken. She would stop draining the pack. She would be whole."

I shook my head, backing away. "I don't have a blockage. I was born this way."

"Gunner," Mavis said softly, ignoring me. "Look at the borders. Look at your warriors. They are weak. If the Rogues attack now, Blood River will fall. This ritual could save everyone. It could save *her* from the hatred of your people."

Gunner looked at me. His blue eyes were swimming with conflict. He walked over and cupped my face in his large, rough hands.

"Cam," he whispered, his voice cracking. "If this works... if you could have your wolf... the whispers would stop. You'd be safe. The pack would be safe."

"Gunner, I don't trust her," I pleaded, my voice trembling. "She smells like... like old flowers covering up rot."

"She healed the sentry," he countered, desperation creeping into his tone. "We are out of options. Please. For us."

His plea broke me. I could endure the insults, but I couldn't endure being the reason his legacy crumbled. I nodded, tears stinging my eyes. "Okay. For us."

***

The pack's sacred cellar was carved from the bedrock beneath the main house. It was cold, smelling of damp earth and stone. Mavis had prepared a stone basin in the center of the room, filling it with a shimmering, translucent liquid.

"The water is blessed by moonlight," Mavis said, gesturing for me to undress. She wore a heavy ceremonial apron.

Gunner stood by the heavy iron door. "I'll be right here, Cam. Right outside."

"Why can't you stay?" I asked, clutching my robe.

" The energy must be pure," Mavis interjected. "The Alpha's aura is too dominant. It will disrupt the flow."

Gunner kissed my forehead, a lingering, fearful press of his lips. "Be brave, my love." Then, he walked out, and the heavy door groaned shut, sealing me in with her.

The moment the latch clicked, Mavis’s face changed. The concern evaporated, replaced by a look of clinical boredom.

"Get in," she ordered.

I dropped my robe and stepped into the basin.

Agony.

Instant, blinding agony. It wasn't water. It felt like liquid fire. My skin hissed as I submerged my legs, a violent, searing heat that tore a scream from my throat.

"It burns!" I shrieked, trying to scramble out.

Mavis shoved me back down by the shoulders, her grip possessing unnatural strength. "It is silver-laced holy water, you fool. It burns the impurity out."

Silver. Poison to our kind. Even without a wolf, my biology was werewolf. She was bathing me in acid.

"Gunner!" I screamed, thrashing in the basin as the silver water splashed over my chest and stomach. The pain was absolute, white-hot needles piercing every pore. "Gunner, help me! It's killing me!"

I threw my mind open, forcing the distress call through our mate bond. *Gunner! Stop her! It burns! Please!*

I felt him on the other end of the link. I felt his panic, his instinct to tear the door down.

"It is working!" Mavis shouted toward the door, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "The screams are the curse leaving her body! Do not interrupt, Alpha, or the process will fail! She will remain a leech forever!"

*Gunner!* I screamed internally, the physical pain merging with the terror of Mavis’s cruel, smiling face hovering above me.

Then, I felt it.

A wall.

Not a physical one, but a mental one. Gunner didn't kick down the door. He didn't roar in fury. Instead, he slammed a barrier down across our bond.

*I'm sorry, Cam,* his voice echoed, faint and distorted, before being cut off completely. *It's for the pack.*

Silence.

He had blocked me. He was standing five feet away, on the other side of that door, listening to me scream, and he chose to cover his ears.

Mavis leaned close, her breath smelling of decay. "See?" she whispered, pushing my head under the burning silver water. "He knows what you are. A sacrifice."