Chapter 2

Kelsey's POV Back then I was just a nurse at the werewolf clinic. The former Luna of Bladeclaw had begged me to become Marcus' mate when he lay dying from wolfsbane. Nobody expected much from some nobody rogue—least of all me. Then he woke up breathing fire three days later. That's when the Pack started looking at me sideways. "Don't twist the truth," Angela's cheeks flushed pink. "I was held captive in the Royal Pack." Her claws gleamed silver-tipped. "You rogues wouldn't understand court politics. Just sign the damn papers." "Already did." "Smart girl." She tossed a check at my feet. "Take this and disappear." The paper fluttered to the floor. I stepped over it. Angela's fur bristled along her neckline. Her Lycan aura crashed over me like tidal wave—or tried to. My wolf yawned in my head, flicking its tail. The pressure vanished. Her eyes widened as her fur retreated. "How did you—" I shoved past her. So this was the power of a Lycan? But I had no interest in probing further. I'd already agreed to divorce Marcus. Staying here was pointless. My duffel bag sat half-empty on the bed. Three years here and I couldn't even fill a suitcase. It was like a dream. Angela strolled into the master bedroom waving our divorce decree. "Done packing?" My wolf growled low in my spine. She sniffed the air suddenly. "Puppy smell. You're breeding?" "If I was," my voice dropped to a growl, "you think I'd sign that paper?" Angela leaned against the gilded bedpost, her long fingers tracing the pillow where Marcus had slept last night. The mix of pheromones and mockery hit me. "How dare a rogue bear the future heir of Bladeclaw?" She pointed a scarlet nail at my stomach. "Your mongrel isn't even fit to be a chew toy for Marcus' wolf." My wolf snarled deep in my spine, claws scraping at my mental barriers. I rushed into the closet, clutching the pregnancy test. The mirror reflected Angela's twisted smile as she advanced in a rose-scented storm, the oppressive force making the chandelier clink. "Let me see what you've stolen from Marcus," she hissed, her venomous fingertips gripping my wrist, pupils contracting into feline slits. "Privacy!" I arched my back, a warning growl escaping as my canines pierced my lower lip. "Give it to me," Angela's outstretched fingers gleamed metallically. "Enough!" My wolf's roar shook the chandelier. My right hand shifted into a clawed paw against my will. In Angela's terrified gaze, I seized her wrist and executed a precise over-the-shoulder throw. "Ah—!" Angela cowered among the debris, trembling. The wolf that had been arrogant moments ago now whimpered in her spine. Marcus' pine scent choked the room. His transformed eyes locked onto my half-shifted hand. "Kelsey, explain." "She started—" "Alpha Marcus!" Angela whimpered, cradling her unmarked arm. "I thought she stole your signet ring…" I watched him cradle her like precious china. Marcus knelt and lifted Angela into the velvet armchair with a gentle motion that contrasted sharply with his icy command to the omega, "Fetch the Pack doctor. Give Angela a full examination, especially her hand nerves." My wolf screeched in my mind, "She's faking!" Of course I knew, but Marcus clearly didn't believe me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. His thumb brushed her hair—same way he'd touched me that first winter. My wolf howled as pregnancy cramps twisted my gut. "Apologize." "To her? Never." "Apologize for harming the future Luna. Now." His fingers brushed Angela's nape as he spoke. Agony erupted in my temples—the Alpha's command brand was activating. I staggered, clutching the bedpost, watching Marcus use the same gentle hand that once caressed me to smooth Angela's hair. My wolf's howl resonated with the pup's energy fluctuations in my womb, creating a stabbing pain. "What if I don't?" I wiped the blood from my nose. "Think of Spike," Marcus said quietly. The name hit harder than any Alpha command. Spike still smelled like antiseptic and coma-induced sweat in that hospital bed. All because he took a rogue's claws for me three years ago. My wolf's tail limply swept the mental sea. "The pup needs a safe birthplace..." I stared at Angela's ankle, deliberately exposed beneath her skirt—unblemished, no bruise in sight. As my nails dug into my palm, I whispered, "I'm… sorry." Angela's fake sniffle halted. She hadn't expected me to submit, her prepared script stuck in her throat, twisting her face into a comical mask. "Done?" I wiped blood on my jeans. "Leaving now." I didn't want to stay a second longer. Marcus nodded to the omega. "Clean her up." "Fetch me ice first," Angela purred, hiking her skirt to show flawless ankles. "My ankle seems swollen." When I threw the ice pack down, her lips brushed my ear. "Know why Marcus came home late last night?" She pulled her collar down—fresh bite marks glowed gold above her breasts. "Turns out he doesn't hold back with real mates."