Chapter 4

Elara Vance POV:

The wind on Gloomfang Peaks was a wild, untamed thing, whipping my silver-blonde hair across my face. Ryker led me along a narrow, winding path that skirted the edge of a sheer cliff face. Below, the jagged rocks disappeared into a sea of mist.

"Look," he said, pointing to a distant valley. "The best hunting grounds in the territory are down there." His words were a lure, meant to draw me closer to the precipice.

*Danger!* Lyra screamed in my mind. *Get away from the edge!*

I feigned fascination, taking two small steps forward while my eyes darted across the treacherous ground, searching for any handhold, any outcrop that might break a fall.

Ryker stood just behind me, his presence a suffocating weight. I could feel the malice radiating from him. He began to tell a story about some ancient wolf hero, his voice a low, hypnotic drone designed to lull me into a false sense of security.

I pretended to listen, my body coiled like a spring, my weight shifted to my back foot, ready to react.

Suddenly, his story stopped. His tone changed, becoming somber. "You know, Elara, sometimes, for the greater good of the pack, sacrifices must be made."

Before the words had fully registered, he let out a sharp, loud howl, a perfect imitation of a startled beast. In the same motion, his foot "accidentally" dislodged a loose rock, and with a feigned stumble for balance, he slammed his shoulder into my back.

It was all perfectly choreographed to look like a tragic accident.

I had been ready, but I hadn't accounted for the raw, brutal force of an Alpha. Combined with the awkwardness of my pregnant body, I had no chance. A scream was ripped from my throat as I was thrown from the path, my world tilting into a terrifying panorama of sky and rock.

Instinct took over. In the split second of my fall, my fingers clawed at the cliff face, finding and locking onto the thick, gnarled root of a stubborn tree. I dangled there, the wind howling around me, my arms screaming in protest.

Ryker peered over the edge, and the mask was gone. His face was a canvas of triumphant cruelty. "Such a shame, my dear Luna," he sneered.

He didn't try to pry my fingers loose. He simply lifted his heavy hiking boot and brought it down, grinding it into the back of my hand.

Pain, white-hot and blinding, exploded from my knuckles. A cry of agony escaped my lips, but I held on, my grip fueled by pure, desperate will.

And then, a new pain, a hundred times worse, tore through my abdomen. It was a sharp, ripping sensation, a brutal severing, as if something vital was being ripped from my very core. A warm, wet gush flowed down my legs, staining my trousers a dark, horrific red.

The blood. My baby. My baby was gone.

The grief that hit me was a physical force, a tidal wave of such profound agony that it extinguished every other sensation. The pain in my hand, the fear, the will to live-it all vanished, replaced by a vast, hollow emptiness.

My fingers went slack.

My grip failed.

And I fell.

Ryker watched me disappear into the mist below. He turned, his face impassive, and opened a mind-link to his Beta. *Mission accomplished. The Luna had an accident. She didn't survive.*

My fall was broken, violently, by a rocky ledge jutting out from the cliff face. The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through my already broken body, but it slowed my descent. I tumbled from the ledge into the thick, dense canopy of the forest below, a web of ancient branches and thick leaves catching me, cradling me, saving me.

I lay there, broken, bleeding, and utterly empty, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Hours later, the sound of voices from the clifftop above roused me. It was night.

"Are you sure she's dead?" It was Ryker. His Beta, Marcus Cain, was with him. They had come back to be certain.

I held my breath, every cell in my body screaming.

"The fall alone would have killed her, Alpha," Marcus replied. "Even if it didn't, no one survives a night in this part of the forest. The beasts will clean up whatever is left. No body, no questions."

"Good," Ryker said, his voice cold. "Now you can officially welcome your Chosen Mate."

*Chosen Mate.* The term slammed into me with the force of a physical blow. This wasn't just an affair. It wasn't a moment of weakness. It was a calculated plan to replace me, his Fated Mate, with a mate of his own choosing.

After their footsteps faded, something new ignited in the hollow space where my heart used to be. It wasn't love, or grief, or fear. It was a cold, hard, burning ember of rage.

Fueled by that rage, I dragged my shattered body through the undergrowth. I didn't know where I was going. I only knew I had to get away. I had to live.

I had to live long enough to make him, and the woman who took my place, pay in blood.