Unbonding the Ruthless Alpha

Chapter 1

Aria's POV

I sent ten mindlinks to my mate. He ignored every single one.

Our pup was gone.

I never even got the chance to tell my Alpha mate, Damon, that he had existed.

Then, a familiar scent drifted past—pine and leather.

I lifted my eyes in shock. "Da—"

The word died in my throat.

The door to the VIP ward stood slightly ajar. My gaze fell to the narrow gap.

My Alpha husband—my mate—sat on the edge of the hospital bed, another woman gathered in his arms.

His hand covered hers, his thumb stroking gently over her knuckles, soothing her as though she were something fragile and precious.

The woman on the bed shifted, turning her head toward the door. I saw her face, and my heart withered.

Claudia. Damon's first love.

The afternoon light poured through the window, falling across her abdomen. There was a curve there—faint, but unmistakable.

No... it couldn't be.

My breath hitched. I gripped the armrests of the wheelchair until my knuckles went white.

"Get every specialist here. Now." Damon's voice carried through the c***k in the door—deep and controlled, yet threaded with a frantic edge I had never once heard him use with me. "I want her and the baby completely safe."

The baby.

The words landed like a death sentence.

Just hours ago, in this same hospital, I had been the one on that cold table, listening to a doctor tell me with clinical pity, "I'm sorry, Luna. After three hours, we couldn't stabilize the heartbeat."

And the ten mindlinks I'd sent him, begging him to come—every single one coldly blocked.

Now I understood why. He hadn't missed them. He had simply been too busy comforting another pregnant woman.

"Move along." A guard posted at the VIP door stepped in front of me without warning. "This is the Alpha's private ward, reserved for his mate. Please leave."

Reserved for his mate.

I turned the words over in my head, the irony bitter as bile on my tongue. As the Luna of the Silvermoon Pack, as Damon Hawthorne's wife of two years, I was the one left standing outside that door—turned away by a guard for that very reason.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat was bone dry. I had cried until my voice was gone, my vocal cords rusted shut. Not a single sound would come.

"Luna..."

The nurse steadied my wheelchair, her voice barely a whisper, heavy with apology. "The Alpha gave the order... this suite has to be cleared for Miss Stone now. The regular rooms are all full today, so... let me take you to sort out your discharge paperwork."

Discharge.

My child was barely gone. My body was still bleeding. I hadn't so much as had a sip of water. And now I was being turned out of the hospital—because she needed my room.

The wheelchair turned slowly. I didn't resist. But as I was wheeled away, I stole one last look through the c***k in the door.

A warm amber light glowed inside. Damon's silhouette stayed perfectly still, his head bowed, his attention fixed entirely on the woman in the bed.

That light spilled through the gap and across the cold corridor floor—but it never reached me.

An hour later, I walked back into the foyer of the Alpha's mansion.

The first thing my eyes landed on was the cardboard box on the table.

I'd moved it in last month. Inside were all the tiny clothes I'd carefully chosen—the softest fabric I could find, pale colors, simple designs.

According to pack tradition, a pregnancy wasn't considered safe until the three-month mark. I'd waited the full twelve weeks, carefully arranging those clothes in that box, waiting for the right day to tell him. I'd imagined Damon's expression a thousand times—hoped for just one second of him being moved, or even just a moment of silence. Anything that wasn't him hating me.

But now, there was nothing left.

Just as I was about to throw the box away, my phone rang.

Damon.

"Where are you?" His voice bit into me the moment I answered. "Don't tell me you forgot what day it was."

I checked the date. The fifteenth. The monthly Hawthorne family dinner—a rule established by Walter Hawthorne, the former Alpha. No family member was allowed to miss it unless they had a life-or-death emergency.

"I'm not feeling well tonight," I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking. "You should go alone."

"Not feeling well?" He let out a cold, sharp laugh, a casual disgust in the sound, as if he were evaluating a particularly cheap trick. "Aria, you schemed and manipulated your way into this marriage to claim the Luna position. This is the price you pay. Get over here. I don't care what's wrong with you."

"I'm not lying to you... Damon, I really don't feel well..."

My voice was so thin I could barely hear it myself.

"Don't test my patience." His voice dropped, carrying a streak of undisguised brutality. "Grandfather is holding the family evaluation tonight. As Luna, if you don't show up, you'll disgrace the entire Hawthorne line. I don't care if you're on your deathbed—you will be there."

Before the dial tone could sound, I hung up. I didn't dare listen for another second. If I stayed on the line, I might have told him about the baby.

But what would that accomplish? He'd probably just ask if I was trying to threaten him with some "bastard child." I couldn't imagine a scenario where he felt even a flicker of sorrow.

How pathetic.

I placed my phone face-down on the bed and sat in the darkness until I finally forced myself to change into a dress.

The woman in the mirror was deathly pale; it took layers of heavy foundation to mask the ghostliness of my skin.

The dress fit perfectly, making me look like an elegant, dignified Luna—not like a she-wolf who had just lost her pup, her body still bleeding.

The driver was already waiting at the door, bowing as he opened the car. "Luna, please."

Damon was already inside, leaning against the far window. The passing streetlights traced the contours of his profile—cold and merciless.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He answered almost immediately.

"Claudia?" His voice shifted instantly, becoming low and intimate. "You're awake? What was wrong?"

I turned my head further toward the glass.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here. You and the baby will be fine," he continued. "The dinner will be over soon. I promised I'd be back before you fell asleep."

The car's heater was running full blast, making the cabin stifling, but my hands and feet were ice. I was frozen from the inside out.

Two years. We'd been married that long, and I had never known he could be this tender.

The call lasted a long time. When he finally hung up, the car fell into a silence even deeper than before. I could feel that the expression on his face hadn't quite hardened yet; the tenderness he reserved for Claudia still lingered.

Maybe it was the blood loss making me lose my sanity, or maybe I'd just reached the breaking point where nothing mattered anymore. I turned my head and heard myself speak.

"Claudia... when did she come back?"

Damon's profile darkened. He turned to look at me with the expression of someone just remembering I was there.

"That's none of your concern."

I offered a small, hollow smile and looked away.

I knew the truth. In everyone's eyes, I was the villain who had torn them apart—the one who had used my family's last bargaining chip, leveraging Alpha Walter's influence to force myself into Damon's life. He hated me, and he hadn't bothered to hide it for a single day of our marriage.

If not for that accident years ago...

No. There were no more "ifs."

I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the window, trying to regain some clarity. Somewhere deep in my chest, my wolf, Lydia had stopped struggling. She wasn't dying—she was just finally letting go. Giving up.

Damon.

I whispered his name silently in my mind.

This would probably be the last time. The last time I'd sit in this car, heading to that family dinner with you.