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.

Chapter 1

Karyme POV:

The Pack House walls were ancient stone, built to survive siege and shifting wolves. They weren't thick enough.

Thump. Thump.

The headboard next door hit the wall with a rhythm that made my teeth ache. I lay curled in the dark, my fingernails shredding the silk sheets.

"Archie... oh, Alpha..."

The moan filtered through the vents, carrying a scent that turned my stomach: synthetic vanilla and musk-Faustina. But beneath it was the smell of rain and ozone.

Archie. My husband. My Fated Mate.

My Inner Wolf whimpered, scratching at the mental wall I'd built. She wanted to comfort him, confused by the jagged pain bleeding through the bond.

"He's hurting us," I whispered. "He is breaking us."

Five years ago, under a full moon, Archie marked me. He promised love. But he also promised to protect me from the Hatfield Curse-the genetic defect that killed every Alpha female in childbirth. He loved me too much to kill me, he claimed.

So, he was killing my soul instead.

The Elders wanted an heir. The "Surrogacy Plan" was the solution. Faustina, a she-wolf with wide hips and a shark's smile, was the vessel. It was supposed to be clinical. A turkey baster and a doctor.

But tonight, I could hear the skin-on-skin contact. I could smell the lust.

"Karyme..."

Archie's voice leaked into my head through the Mind-Link. Breathless. Ragged. He was thinking of me while inside her.

"Don't," I sent back, locking the mental door.

"It's for the Pack," he grunted, a spike of pleasure hitting me like a physical slap. "She... she needs the Alpha essence directly. The doctor said... natural ensures the strength of the heir."

Bullshit. I slammed the link shut.

Silence fell next door. Then, the heavy tread of footsteps.

The doorknob turned. Locked.

"Karyme," Archie's voice came from the hall, wrecked and hoarse.

I didn't answer. His scent seeped under the door-sex and Faustina-but underneath, he was dumping pheromones. Thick, heavy waves of distress designed to force a mate into submission.

"Go away," I choked out.

"I had to," he whispered against the wood. "Faustina felt the pup move. She was in pain. She needed my strength to calm the fetus. It's a strong heir, Karyme. A male."

"It's our anniversary."

"I'm trying to keep you alive!" His voice cracked. "You think I want this? If you were pregnant... you would die. I can't lose my Luna."

He believed it. He thought he was a martyr.

I looked at the mirror. Hollow eyes, skeletal frame. I was already a ghost; he just hadn't buried me yet.

"You haven't saved me, Archie," I whispered. "You've just found a slower way to kill me."

Karyme POV:

Morning light hit the dust motes in the dining room, mocking the stagnation inside.

I sat at the mahogany table, staring at cold eggs.

Last month, a rogue's wolfsbane blade had sliced my side open. I lay screaming in the clinic while the doctor scrubbed the wound without anesthesia. Archie held my hand. Until his phone buzzed.

"Faustina feels dizzy."

He dropped my hand. He left me bleeding to hold the hand of a woman who needed a glass of water.

The doors swung open.

Archie walked in, showered but exhausted. Beside him was Faustina. She wasn't in uniform. She wore a silk dress tight enough to show a bump that looked suspiciously large for three months.

She reeked of him. Not just proximity-she smelled like a claimed wolf.

Archie saw me and flinched. He turned to Faustina. "Kitchen. Supplements."

It was an Alpha Command. Faustina's knees buckled, but she smirked as she obeyed, leaving a trail of herbal perfume that smelled like rot masked by flowers.

Archie rushed to my side, dropping to his knees.

"You smell like her," I said.

"I scrubbed my skin raw," he pleaded. "Karyme, the Elders are watching. My father pressures me daily. Once the pup is born, she's gone."

"What about your vows?"

"I love your soul," Archie said, grabbing my face. "My body is just a tool. It's like lifting a heavy weight or running a patrol. It's duty."

"A tool," I repeated. It felt like ash in my mouth.

Faustina reappeared in the doorway with a glass of milk. She caught my eye and deliberately brushed her hair back, revealing a fresh, purple bruise on her neck. A love bite.

Archie followed my gaze and stiffened. "I told you to stay in the kitchen!"

"The baby needed air, Alpha," she cooed, releasing a sharp, challenging pheromone.

My wolf snarled. Kill her.

"Get out," Archie roared.

Faustina bowed and left, her victory absolute.

Archie buried his face in my lap. "I'm sorry. Six more months. Then we toss her to the rogues. Just give me an heir."

I looked at the dark hair I used to love.

"You've already lost me, Archie," I whispered.

Karyme POV:

"If I ever touch her with anything other than duty, may Silver pierce my heart," Archie swore in the moonlight.

I covered his mouth. "Don't make vows you can't keep."

He handed me a glass of warm milk. It smelled of honey and potent valerian root.

"Drink," he urged. "It will help you rest."

He was drugging me so he wouldn't feel my pain through the bond when he went to her.

I faked a swallow, holding the liquid in my cheeks. "Good girl," he whispered, tucking me in.

Ten minutes later, he slipped out.

I spat the milk into a potted plant and crept to the door. He wasn't going to the kitchen. He was heading to the Guest Wing.

I followed.

Faustina sat on her bed, sobbing. "It hurts, Archie! My leg..."

Archie sat beside her. "Let me see."

A scratch. Nothing.

"Please," she whimpered.

My stomach dropped as Archie bent his head and licked the wound. Saliva heals, yes. But licking is intimate. It's caretaking.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much better," she purred, tangling her fingers in his hair. "Maybe... maybe I can stay? As a nanny?"

Archie sighed. "We will see. I will give you a place in the Pack."

I slid down the hallway wall. A place in the Pack.

My phone vibrated. Encrypted text.

Safe house compromised. Traces of the cub found. Moving Jalen tonight.

Jalen.

I stifled a sob. Four years ago, I hid my pregnancy. I birthed him alone in a winter cabin, biting a leather strap to stay silent. He was born early. Small. Weak wolf spirit. If Archie had seen him-a scrawny thing-he would have seen the curse and rejected him.

So I hid him.

I looked at the text. We need to move Jalen.

Archie was staying in that room. Good.

I had a son to save. And saving him meant leaving my mate.