My Alpha Bought Me to Bear His Heir

The howls started at dusk.

I stood at my window, watching the Alphas gather on the lawn below. One by one, they stripped off their formal clothes and shifted—bones cracking, fur rippling across skin, power radiating in waves that made the air itself feel heavy. Wylder was among them, his massive gray wolf larger than the rest, his presence commanding even in animal form.

They took off into the forest, a pack of predators running the perimeter. Tradition. Territory. Power.

I waited until the last howl faded into the distance.

Then I moved.

My duffel bag was already packed, hidden under the bed. I pulled it out, slung it over my shoulder, and applied Elena's scent-masking oil to every inch of exposed skin. The smell was sharp, medicinal, burning my nostrils. I didn't care. I rubbed it into my neck, my wrists, behind my ears—anywhere a wolf might catch my scent.

The tracking phone sat on the nightstand, its screen dark. Wylder had given it to me on my first day at the Pack House. "So I always know where you are," he'd said. Not a gift. A leash.

I picked it up, walked to the window, and threw it as hard as I could into the bushes below.

Gone.

The scent-masking cloak came next. I pulled it off and let it fall to the floor in a heap of gray fabric. For three years, I'd worn it like a second skin, hiding what I was—or what they thought I was. Worthless. Wolfless. Weak.

I left it there and walked out the door.

The hotel corridors were empty, everyone either at the run or attending the evening's festivities. My footsteps echoed against the marble, too loud, too exposed. Every shadow felt like it was watching me. Every corner hid an Alpha who would drag me back.

But no one came.

I slipped out a service exit and into the night. The forest loomed ahead, dark and endless, but I turned away from it. Away from the Alphas. Away from their territory and their rules.

Toward the neutral lands.

The first mile was easy. Adrenaline carried me, my legs moving faster than they had in years. But then the withdrawal hit.

My hands started shaking first. Then my legs. The nausea rolled through me in waves, and I had to stop, doubled over on the side of the road, dry-heaving into the grass. My body was screaming for the poison it had grown dependent on, the wolfsbane that had kept me weak and compliant.

I forced myself upright and kept walking.

Every step hurt. My muscles burned. My head pounded. But I thought about the life growing inside me, the tiny spark of something pure and innocent, and I pushed through the pain.

This child would not grow up in a cage.

This child would not be a transaction.

I walked until my feet bled, until the hotel lights were nothing but a distant glow behind me. The neutral territory border was marked by a line of stones, ancient and weathered. I crossed it and felt something shift—like stepping out of a cage I hadn't realized was locked.

Free.

I was free.

---

Wylder's wolf was restless.

The run should have calmed him, should have burned off the tension that had been building for days. But instead, it made everything worse. His wolf kept circling back toward the hotel, whining, agitated.

Something was wrong.

He shifted back to human form and dressed quickly, ignoring the other Alphas who were still running. Marcus met him at the entrance, his expression carefully neutral.

"The negotiations are still ongoing," Marcus said. "Alpha Gregor wants to discuss—"

"Later." Wylder's voice was clipped. His wolf was clawing at his insides, demanding he check on her. On Naomi.

He took the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding for reasons he didn't want to examine. Her room was on the third floor, tucked away in the servants' wing where she belonged.

Except she didn't belong there. His wolf had been trying to tell him that for months.

He knocked once. No answer.

He opened the door.

The room was empty. Her duffel bag—gone. Her phone—gone. The scent-masking cloak he'd given her lay crumpled on the floor, abandoned.

But her scent lingered. Fear. Determination. And underneath it all, something that made his wolf go absolutely feral.

She was pregnant.

She was carrying his pup.

And she had run.

"Marcus!" His roar shook the walls, rattled the windows. The Beta appeared in the doorway seconds later, his eyes wide.

"Find her," Wylder snarled, his wolf so close to the surface that his voice came out distorted, inhuman. "Find her NOW."

---

Christian stared at the drink in his hand, watching the ice melt into the amber liquid.

Three weeks. Three weeks since Estelle had brought him into her pack, and he still hadn't been given the Alpha title she'd promised. Instead, she paraded him around like a trophy, introduced him as her "consort," and dismissed him whenever actual pack business was discussed.

He was starting to realize he'd made a mistake.

"You're brooding again," Estelle said, sliding into the seat across from him. Her smile was sharp, predatory. "It's not attractive."

"You promised me a position," Christian said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You said—"

"I said a lot of things." She leaned back, studying him like he was a bug under glass. "But let's be honest, darling. You're not Alpha material. You're barely Beta material. You're here because you're pretty and you have a decent bloodline. That's it."

His jaw clenched. "I gave up everything for you."

"You gave up a wolfless Omega who was already sold to another Alpha." Estelle laughed, cold and dismissive. "Hardly a sacrifice."

Naomi's face flashed through his mind. The way she used to look at him, like he was her entire world. The way she'd believed every lie he'd told her.

She was still valuable. Still carrying the potential for a powerful bloodline. And she was still bound to him by their history, by the guilt he'd planted so carefully.

Maybe it was time to reclaim what was his.