Alpha Mate at the Gas Station

35. Cause of death Wolfbane

Letting the pain run its course didn’t lessen it.

It only made it settle deeper.

I heard the nurse speak, her voice careful—too careful.

“I know me eating can be viewed as disrespectful, Alpha,” she said softly. “I swear I wasn’t trying to be. I hadn’t eaten in over twelve hours. I just… needed something. I’m sorry it was during this.”

Her words barely registered.

I was still gripping the papers like they were the only thing keeping me upright.

My voice came out broken when I finally spoke, cracking despite every instinct screaming to stay composed.

“What happened,” I asked quietly, “that she lost our pup?”

The words tasted wrong in my mouth.

Our pup.

Gone before I ever knew they existed.

“The reports don’t explain it,” I added, lifting the papers slightly. “Tell me what caused it.”

She hesitated, then reached for another document from the folder. Her fingers trembled as she pointed to a name printed in black ink.

A drug.

Wolfbane.

The moment I read it, something inside me snapped—not loudly, not wildly—but completely.

I wiped my eyes, forcing my vision to steady as I read further. My jaw locked so hard it ached.

They had been introducing wolfbane into her system.

Deliberately.

My growl tore out of me before I could stop it, low and violent, and I felt every wolf within range react to my aura as it surged outward, heavy and suffocating.

“And… and they were also administering silver intravenously,” she added quickly, panic creeping into her voice. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t. I asked my fiancé about it and he told me it was standard for… for restraining a wolf. I was just doing my job, Alpha. I didn’t know what it would do to a pregnant Luna.”

Silver.

Wolfbane.

They weren’t just hurting her.

They were killing her—slowly. Methodically.

Killing our pup in the process.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. For a split second, instinct screamed for blood—for punishment—but I forced myself to turn away, pacing instead, because if I looked at her any longer I didn’t trust what my wolf would do.

She hadn’t known.

But the damage was already done.

As the thoughts spiraled, my Beta’s voice cut through my mind, sharp and controlled.

‘Alpha. I had been listening, I’m sorry but I traced the hospital. The CEO she mentioned—his name is Mario Ariott.’

My steps stopped.

‘He’s a vampire. The same one who attacked our first pack. The one who left us as rogues.’

Everything aligned with sickening clarity.

‘He has our Luna,’ my Beta continued. ‘And he just announced an engagement in the news. There are photos circulating—clearly fabricated—showing him with Luna Thumper.’

The room went silent.

The grief didn’t lessen.

It hardened.

Orders began to form in my mind, precise and unforgiving, as I started issuing commands through the link—calling in allies, neighboring packs, restoring what had been taken from us piece by piece.

They had tortured my mate.

They had murdered my unborn pup.

And they had done it thinking I wouldn’t find her in time.

I would.

And when I did, I wouldn’t need rage to finish this.

I would need resolve.

I would take my Luna back.

And on the day that bloodsucker thought he was untouchable—on the day he planned to celebrate—

I would rip his heart out and remind the world what it meant to steal from an Alpha.

Knowing she was close—but not close enough to touch—was worse than believing she was gone.

Distance I could fight.

Time I could endure.

But this… this suspended agony of almost broke something fundamental inside me.

I sat there, still holding the papers, rereading lines I already knew by heart, as if staring hard enough would undo what had been done to her… to us. Every word felt like a reminder of my failure—not as an Alpha, not as a leader, but as a mate.

I had made choices believing I was protecting her.

I had let my guard down believing she was safe.

I was wrong.

Links began to open one after another—neighboring packs, allied Alphas, old connections forged through blood and loss. None of them hesitated. Not one.

They agreed to stand with me.

And that told me everything I needed to know: this wasn’t just personal anymore. This was war disguised as civility.

As confirmations came in, something inside me shifted—from grief into something colder, sharper, more deliberate.

If I couldn’t reach her with claws, then I would reach her with truth.

I began coordinating quietly, carefully. No howling. No grand threats. Just precision.

Humans.

The vampire relied on them. Trusted them. Hid behind them.

So I would place mine among his.

I instructed the packs to send humans—not warriors, not wolves—people who could blend, who could work, who could be overlooked. Humans who could speak softly, move freely, and see everything.

They would work in his estate.

In his hospitals.

In his offices.

In his damn home.

Not to attack.

Not yet.

But to watch.

To document.

To listen.

To plant doubt where he was planting lies.

To make my mate feel the cracks in the illusion she was being fed.

One by one, emails came through. Names. Departments. Positions. Timelines.

Each message felt like a small step closer to her.

Each confirmation tightened my resolve.

She was being brainwashed. Controlled. Rewritten.

And I would dismantle it piece by piece.

I didn’t need rage to do this.

I didn’t need chaos.

I needed patience.

Because when she finally realized the truth—when the fog lifted and she understood who had hurt her, who had taken her child, who had lied to her—

I would be there.

And the vampire wouldn’t just lose her.

He would lose everything.

Seeing the fear on the nurse’s face grounded me.

My state—my grief, my rage—had shaken her, and I forced myself to slow my breathing. She didn’t deserve my fury. She deserved clarity. Respect.

I needed her to understand that what she had done had not been intentional, that honesty mattered, and that because she had chosen truth, she had earned mine.

“You don’t need to feel guilty,” I told her calmly, even though my chest felt like it was splitting open. “You didn’t know what you were assisting in. You were doing your job. What matters is that you came forward when you learned the truth.”

She swallowed hard, still pale.

“Now that you’ve told me,” I continued, steady and controlled, “we will resolve this in every way possible—through legal action, through exposure, and if necessary, through war against the vampires responsible.”

Her fear deepened, and I understood it. She was human. Any sane human would be terrified.

But this was bigger than fear.

“I will be repeating this to every human in my pack who chooses to help rescue my mate,” I said. “A pack survives because we stand together. We follow rules. We protect one another. And if you choose to remain part of my pack, I will need your support until the moment Mario is stopped.”

I didn’t say killed.

I didn’t need to.

That night, her mate helped me speak to her again, helped her understand that this wasn’t blind violence—it was necessity. A life was being destroyed. A woman was being erased. And if we did nothing, we were complicit.

By morning, I had gathered every human in my territory—men and women alike.

I explained everything.

Humans don’t think like wolves. They don’t feel the pull of a pack bond the same way. That is why, in my territory, every human who lives among us is offered education—how werewolves think, how we function, how loyalty and hierarchy keep order.

But vampires…

Vampires were different.

Most of them had never been taught what vampires truly were. Their cruelty. Their manipulation. Their habit of dressing ownership as love and violence as protection.

That night, I told them the truth.

I told them what had been done to my mate.

What had been taken from her.

What had been stolen from us.

And then I gave them a choice.

Those who agreed to help with the rescue—and the war that would follow—were placed under protection and training immediately.

Those who couldn’t… or wouldn’t… were still trained in self-defense. Because no one under my rule would be left helpless.

Training humans would not be easy.

It would be slow.

Messy.

Dangerous.

But it was necessary.

Because my Luna was still out there.

And I would tear the world apart carefully, intelligently, and without mercy—

until she was back where she belonged.