Knotted By The Three Feral Alphas

I stood in the middle of my father’s empty tent, the silver collar heavy in my hand. My name was engraved on it in sharp, ugly letters. The smaller one beside it had no name, just the word "bastard" carved deep. The metal was cold, but the witch’s mark on my chest burned like it recognized its own work.

Darius’s growl rumbled behind me. Kane’s knife was already out, edge catching the low firelight. Rylan’s claws punched through his fingertips, his breath coming fast and ragged.

I closed my fist around the collar until the edges bit into my palm. "He left this for me. Not for the pack. For me."

Darius stepped closer, his hand settling low on my belly like he could shield the child from the metal. The flutter answered, sharp and angry, like the kid knew exactly what the collar meant. "He’s trying to break you before the full moon. Make you doubt."

"That’s not going to happen. I don’t doubt." My voice came out flat. The nausea from earlier was gone and was now replaced by something wild. "He thinks silver and a note will make me hand over the child. He still thinks I’m the girl he threw away in chains."

Kane’s storm-gray eyes flicked to the collar. "Hmm, how about we take it back with us, melt it down and send the slag to him in a box."

Rylan’s claws retracted with a wet click. "Or we send him his own head in a box. Four days is plenty of time to make that happen."

I looked at the three of them. The bond pushed their rage straight into my chest, but underneath it I felt the strain. The curse was chewing harder because of the pregnancy. The pack was starting to crack. And now my father was targeting the pups to force my hand.

"We don’t wait four days," I said. "We hit him tomorrow night. We hit him hard. We burn his supplies, scatter his wolves, and make him understand that touching one pup in Frostfang means he loses everything."

Darius’s ice-blue eyes met mine. "You’re carrying our child. The sickness is worse every morning. The mark is spreading. If you push too hard —"

"Then I push." I cut him off, but my hand stayed on my belly. The flutter kicked again, like the kid was agreeing with me. "I’m not sitting behind walls while he threatens children. Not while the witch waits for the full moon to take what’s mine."

Kane sheathed his knife, but his jaw stayed tight. "Then we plan it carefully. We create a small team. In and out. You stay in the middle the whole time."

Rylan’s grin came back, slow and mean. "And if we see your father, I get the first swing at him."

We all seemed to agree to our new plan and

we rode back hard through the snow. The collar stayed in my saddlebag, heavy as a promise.

By the time we reached Frostfang the pack was waiting in the bailey, torches flaring. They cheered when they saw us, but it sounded thinner than before as if something was missing. The crack was still there, I could feel it.

I slid off my horse and my legs almost folded. The morning sickness I’d fought all day hit again, but I swallowed it down and walked between the brothers with my chin up. Blood still streaked my hands from the raid. The witch’s mark on my chest burned steady, a low throb that matched the bond’s pulse.

The beta who had questioned me twice already stepped forward. His eyes flicked to my belly, then away. "The pups... he really means to collar them?"

I stopped in front of him. "He means every word. And if we hand me over, the witch still takes the child. Then she comes for yours next."

He looked at the ground. A few older wolves nodded, but the silence from the rest of the pack was louder than any cheer. The crack was widening. I could feel it in the bond: doubt, exhaustion, fear for their own children.

No cheers this time. Just grim nods and the sound of boots moving.

We went inside our chambers and shut the door with a heavy thud. I dropped the collar on the table with a clink. Darius pulled me against him, his forehead to mine. Kane poured water and started cleaning the new cuts on my arm. Rylan paced, axe still in his hand.

"The pack is starting to doubt," I said quietly. "They see the silver, they hear the threats, and they wonder if keeping me is worth all the bloodshed."

Darius’s palm settled low on my belly. The bond hummed warmer, the three of them feeding me their agreement and that fierce protectiveness. "Then we give them a win tomorrow. We burn his supplies. We scatter his wolves. We make them see you’re the one who ends this."

I nodded in agreement. The flutter in my belly kicked again, stronger. The nausea was gone for now, but the mark on my chest still burned. Four days left until the full moon. Four days until the witch demanded her price.

We planned until the fire burned low. Small team. East flank again. Hit the supply wagons first, then the tents. I would ride with them, but in the middle where they could close around me if it went bad.

When we finally lay down, the brothers tangled around me like always. Darius’s hand never left my belly. Kane’s scarred fingers brushed my hip. Rylan pressed in from behind, his breath steady against my shoulder.

Sleep came slow. I dreamed of silver collars on tiny necks and the witch laughing while three wolves tore each other apart trying to reach me. I woke up before dawn with the bond buzzing under my skin like a warning and the flutter in my belly kicking hard.

The scout was waiting outside the chamber door when we opened it. His face was pale probably from lack of sleep because of the war.

"My kings and queens, I bring another message from the southern border. Gamma Voss says the collars are fitted for the pups. He’s giving us until sunset tomorrow. After that, he starts with the youngest one."

My stomach dropped from the news and the mark flared so hot I gasped.

Four days had become three.

And my father had just drawn the line in blood.