King Alpha, Queen Killer: Her Coronation

My husband’s widow sister-in-law, Seraphina, just blasted the entire pack through the mind-link with a photo of her newborn son—

and he has my husband’s eyes.

The caption beneath it reads:

“Daddy’s perfect little heir.”

Three hours ago, when an enemy pack hit our border, Cassian chose to protect his widow sister-in-law.

I faced the attack alone.

I lost my baby.

From start to finish, he never came. He never answered me.

Now I know why.

……

……

The mind-link keeps pulsing. Wolves across the territory react in a rush of awe and congratulations—warmth, laughter, devotion—every kind of blessing the world can give.

To my husband Cassian and Seraphina's child.

Beautiful.

Blessed.

Strong boy.

Our future.

My stomach heaves.

My palm still throbs dully—I almost died under a pack of rogues minutes ago.

Blood in the snow, the cold, my lungs filled with fire. I screamed his name into the wind until my throat tore; I reached for him through the mate bond, and met nothing but a terrible, echoing silence.

I saw Cassian leave in a panic—but not for me.

I was dragged away, treated, the bleeding forced to stop. In the end, all I got was the pack healer’s quiet sigh.

“Luna, I’m sorry. The baby… I’m so sorry for your loss.”

They tried every way they knew to contact Cassian—my husband, my Alpha—because I needed mental support now, whether from the wounds splitting my body open or the hollow left by losing the pup.

But there was no response.

Not even the courtesy of listening.

While I lost our child and my spirit was bleeding out, Cassian and his widowed sister-in-law’s baby came into the world.

The penthouse is too quiet, too clean, too high above the ground—so high it doesn’t feel real.

Five months ago, Cassian stood in this very room, jaw clenched, wrapping his guilt up in pretty paper and calling it duty.

“Chiara.” His voice was terrifyingly steady, the kind of steady that meant the decision had been made long before. “I have to do this.”

I remember moonlight spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a silver blade cutting across his throat, sharp as a knife.

“Do what?” I asked, though my chest had already started to seize.

He didn’t back down. “Mark her.”

The two words hit like a fist.

“Say that again.”

“My brother is dead because I failed to patrol the border properly.” There was no grief in his eyes—only something worse, a righteousness that came from punishing himself. “She’s alone. She deserves an heir. An heir of our bloodline.”

My throat went dry.

He wanted to mark his brother’s widow. The delicate, fragile woman who always called his name, soft and lingering, every time we met.

He went on like he was handing down his own sentence. “It’s what I owe her.”

I took a step forward, and our mate bond shuddered between us, like a warning.

“So your solution is to betray the Moon Goddess? Betray our vows? And then call it ‘paying a debt’?”

Cassian’s nostrils flared. “It’s not like that.”

He looked away for half a second—just half a second—and the lie formed right there.

“It’s only conception,” he said. “Nothing more.”

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. None came.

“You want me to accept,” I said, each word ground out, “that you’re going to put your seed in another she-wolf’s body?”

“This isn’t desire.” His voice went even colder. “It’s duty. To the family. To the pack.”

“What about me?” I asked. “Am I just an accessory on your arm? Something you can lead around as your Luna, a piece of decoration, while you build a real family with her?”

His jaw locked. “Don’t twist this.”

“I’m not twisting anything.” My heartbeat roared in my ears. “If you do this, we sever the bond. We cancel the marking ceremony. You don’t get to keep me as Luna while she carries your heir.”

Alpha fury lit his eyes in an instant, primitive and possessive.

“You are my Luna.”

I didn’t flinch. “Then make me feel like I matter.”

He took a step toward me, his dominance pressing down so hard I could barely breathe.

“You’re being too emotional.”

His face emptied out, his expression going flat. “You don’t understand duty.”

I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. “And you don’t understand love,” I said quietly.

He turned away like I’d stabbed him.

That meant the conversation was over.

After that, I thought… I thought that meant he’d stop.

I thought the laws of the pack, the Moon Goddess, the bond between us—or maybe just me—would be enough to hold him back.

I was wrong.

That baby picture wasn’t the beginning.

It was confirmation.

His betrayal had started five months ago.

The elevator doors open.

His scent hits first—pine, smoke, command—and right behind it, Seraphina’s. Sweet milk with a metallic edge that makes the wolf in my chest bare her teeth in a low, silent snarl.

He walks in without even looking at me.

And Seraphina—light shawl over her shoulders, a baby in her arms—looks like a woman from a holy painting. Like she’s cradling a crown.

Her gaze lands on me, and the corner of her mouth twitches in the tiniest, quickest smile.

“Luna,” she says softly, like the punchline to a joke.

I don’t move. I don’t bow my head. I don’t welcome her.

Cassian finally looks at me, his expression pulled taut.

“What is this supposed to be?” I ask. My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else.

He doesn’t answer the real question. He never does.

“The child was born prematurely.She’ staying here,” he says. “For safety.”

“For safety,” I echo, ashes on my tongue. “In my place.”

Cassian’s eyes go colder. “Don’t start.”

I look down at the baby—those eyes, that proof—and something inside me goes horribly, perfectly quiet.

I lift my head and stare straight at him. The mate bond between us trembles lightly, as if it knows what I’m about to do.

“You’ll never know,” I say softly, “that you’ve already killed your child.”

Cassian’s brows draw together. “What did you say?”

But I’ve already turned away.

I walk toward the elevator, toward the long corridor that leads to the Council chamber.

Toward the only place that can strip a Luna of her title.

Tonight, I’m going to wash Cassian’s mark off my skin—

Even if it costs me everything.