I Left My Alpha After He Gave The Heart of My Daughter Away

I never imagined I would go into early labor during the Annual Full Moon Ceremony.

The pain was unbearable, but what made it worse was the setting. I was at the center of the platform, surrounded by wolves, elders, and influencers pointing their phones at me like I was part of the entertainment.

No one stepped forward to help. They just watched, some of them even livestreaming it for their followers.

But when the baby finally let out her first cry, I felt a rush of relief. My hands trembled as I held her against my chest, tears stinging my eyes.

“It’s our daughter,” I said, looking over at Alpha Cyrus Vazquez as I cradled the newborn in my arms.

Cyrus stood several feet away on the Alpha’s platform, flanked by council elders and highranking warriors. His expression didn’t change. He looked at the baby in my arms with a blank stare, as if she were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

“A girl cannot be an Alpha,” he said coldly, adjusting the gold clasp on his dark ceremonial jacket. “What I need is a boy who will grow into a man and become the next Alpha, not a weakling like this.”

My smile faltered. The warmth in my chest vanished.

“What did you say?” I asked, still catching my breath. My bloodied white silk dress clung to my body, sticky with sweat and pain, but it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as the silence that followed his words.

Cyrus didn’t answer. He turned his head to the side, his gaze moving past me without a hint of hesitation.

I followed his line of sight.

Someone was approaching.

Calista Doren.

The crowd reacted the moment they saw her. She was the woman everyone in the pack admired. She was gorgeous, mysterious, and recently made famous after going viral during one of Cyrus’s campaign appearances.

She used to be shy, even forgettable. But now she moved with bold confidence, her presence commanding attention like it was second nature.

She wore a tight black dress that shimmered under the lights. Her walk was deliberate, graceful. And in her arms, she carried something small, wrapped in black linen embroidered with silver thread.

Calista didn’t stop or hesitate. She headed straight for the Alpha’s platform as if it belonged to her. She didn’t spare me a glance. Not even the Elders drew her attention.

She looked only at Cyrus.

“I bring the Alpha’s blood,” she said. Her voice was calm, unshaken, as if she had rehearsed the line in front of a mirror a hundred times. “Born two nights ago.”

I stared at her, frozen, trying to process what she was saying.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some whispered to one another, already speculating, but I heard none of it. All I could hear was the ringing in my ears and the sound of my daughter crying in my arms.

Calista unwrapped the cloth.

Inside was a newborn, a male child who looked exactly like Cyrus. The infant was swaddled in wolfsbanemarked fabric, the kind reserved only for pureblood heirs born under the protection of the moon.

And then Cyrus stepped down from the platform.

He didn’t look at me. He didn’t ask if I was all right. He didn’t even glance at the baby I had just brought into this world.

He walked straight to Calista and gently placed his hand on the baby’s head.

“I acknowledge my heir,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. There was no pride in his words, no shame either, just finality.

Something inside me cracked.

Because with that one sentence, he made it clear that my daughter wasn’t enough. Not in his eyes.

He recognized another woman’s child, born in secret, as his legacy.

I stood there, still holding my newborn, still bleeding, still the Luna in name. But it didn’t feel like a title anymore. It felt like a chain.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My chest tightened. My wolf thrashed violently inside me, furious and betrayed. The child in my arms cried louder, her small fists flailing in the air as if she felt the rejection as deeply as I did.

But all I could do was hold her, dazed, empty, and cold.

I looked at Cyrus one last time, desperate for anything, something that will show even a hint of regret, doubt, even confusion. But his face remained hard, unmoved. There was no guilt in his eyes. Only certainty.

“Calista's son will take my name. He will be rasied as my heir and my only child,” he said, as if the thought had only just crossed his mind. “And you, as my Luna, have to ensure that he will grow healthy and strong. As for others, they will be sent out.”

“What do you mean by that? Your only child?” I hugged my baby tighter to my chest, unable to believe the words coming out of Cyrus’s mouth.

But Cyrus didn’t answer.

Instead, he turned to his men and pointed at me.

“Take the child from her and send it to an orphanage,” he commanded.

“What? No!” I cried out, clutching my daughter protectively. “You can’t take her away!”

I refused to let go, but the guards who stepped forward were strong. They pulled at me roughly, nearly tearing off my dress in the process. I struggled against them, every muscle in my body screaming from the effort.

“No! You’re not taking her from me!” I shouted.

And then my wolf surged forward with a furious roar that shook the air. The men faltered, taking a cautious step back. They must have forgotten, I was still the Luna. I may have just given birth, but I remained the pack’s rightful female leader. A guide strong enough to stand beside an Alpha.

An elder stepped forward, speaking to Cyrus in a low, urgent voice.

“It is unwise to separate a newborn from its mother so soon. Doing so may cause complications... even with your son’s growth and health.”

Cyrus frowned, clearly displeased. He raised his hand, signaling his men to stop. His eyes landed on me again, bloodied, disheveled, a mess in every sense of the word, but I didn’t shrink back. I held his gaze, fierce and unflinching.

“Whatever you’re planning, Alpha,” I said through gritted teeth, “dare involve my child in it, and I will burn every bond between us to the ground.”

He showed no sign of fear, only cold indifference. And then, perhaps in what he thought was mercy, he spoke.

“My heir requires full attention from the Luna. I can’t allow any distractions. I won’t have other children become a reason for my son to be neglected.”

I sneered. “Then why not let his mother care for him? She certainly seems confident enough to parade around like this in front of the entire pack.”

Calista made a soft expression, something gentle, almost tender, that might have deceived anyone watching. She looked at me as if we were dear friends and said in a sweet voice, “You are the rightful Luna. I’m only here to serve our Alpha.”

I scoffed. “Then you do understand what that means. And you still dare to do this?”

She lowered her head as if humbled, her tone quiet, submissive. “I’m only doing what’s best for the Alpha’s bloodline. He deserves a proper heir.”

I wanted to scream, to lash out and tear her mask apart. But before I could say anything, Cyrus’s presence crashed into me like a wave. His aura was suffocating. My knees nearly buckled, and I would have fallen if not for the baby in my arms.

“I’ll give you seven days,” Cyrus said flatly. “Take care of the girl as much as you want. After that, your focus will be on my son.”

Without another word, he turned his back to me and walked away with Calista in tow. He didn’t spare me a glance. Didn’t order anyone to help me. No one in the crowd moved, all too afraid of drawing their Alpha’s ire.

So, I helped myself. I pulled my torn dress over my shoulder, staggered off the platform, and nearly collapsed. I called a cab with trembling fingers and somehow managed to get to the hospital.

By the time I arrived, I was fading. But I didn’t let myself pass out until I’d made sure my baby was in safe hands.

When I finally opened my eyes, hours had passed. My daughter lay in a crib beside me, sleeping peacefully. I stared at her, overwhelmed by a feeling I couldn’t name. There was love, yes, but also sorrow. She didn’t deserve this. I had imagined her birth would be met with warmth and welcome. But Cyrus...

Cyrus had shown me otherwise.

He paraded the son he had with Calista. A son born in secret two nights ago.

They had been cheating all along.

I reached for my phone with shaking fingers. There was only one number I could think of calling. It rang just once before a deep, familiar voice answered on the other end.

“Lyra,” he said smoothly. “As expected, you called me.”

He chuckled softly, teasing. But I wasn’t in the mood for games.

“Apollo, you said you love me, right?” My voice trembled, but not from fear. “Then prove it. Take me and my child away from here… and I’ll give you my life and body in return. Deal?”

Apollo laughed mockingly at the other end of the line.

“Are you treating me like a backup plan now?”

His voice was sharp and cold, like ice cracking under pressure. That laugh echoed in my ear, threaded with sarcasm and quiet rage.

I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. Apollo might have been powerful, rich, and dangerous... but he wasn’t the only one I could turn to.

“If you don’t want me, then don’t,” I said, my voice clipped and even. “I’m not hard to deal with.”

The air shifted on the other end. His laughter cut off abruptly, and a tense silence followed. It was so heavy, I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.

“You think you can just walk away because you decided to?” He said at last, his tone was low and calculated. “You already sold yourself to me, Lyra. There are no takebacks.”

His words sent a chill down my spine.

“Then take me,” I snapped. “You have seven days.”

A beat passed. Then came his laugh again, softer this time, amused, as if he were genuinely intrigued. Without another word, the call ended. A moment later, my phone buzzed.

Finishing business overseas. I’ll come as fast as I can.

I stared at the message, a whirlwind of thoughts crashing through my mind.

I set the phone down and drew in a slow, trembling breath, brushing a hand through my sweatdamp hair. My limbs ached. My back throbbed. I had barely recovered from the delivery, and yet there was no time to rest. No time to process the betrayal.

Then the phone rang again. The screen lit up.

It was my father.

My heart dropped. I hesitated before answering, but I knew better than ignoring him.

“Dad—” I began, barely getting the word out.

“You shameless woman!” He thundered, cutting me off. His fury struck me like a physical blow. “You dared to give birth to a female cub?!”

I recoiled at the venom in his voice, but forced myself to respond, keeping my tone calm, though my vision blurred.

“Dad, this isn’t something I could choose,” I said, my fingers trembling as I held the phone. “I didn’t plan for—”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know it was a girl!” he spat. “You should’ve aborted it the moment you found out!”

His words stabbed deep, sharper than any blade. But it wasn’t new. My father had always seen me as a pawn, a tool for his ambitions. He had arranged my marriage to Cyrus for power, and when it succeeded, he paraded me like a prize. I had been useful. Until another woman gave Cyrus a male heir.

I felt my throat tighten. “She’s your granddaughter,” I said hoarsely. “How could you say that?”

“What granddaughter?” he snapped. “She’s a disgrace! It would’ve been better if she’d died.”

Then the line went dead.

I sat frozen, unable to move, as the weight of his words settled over me like a suffocating fog. My whole body trembled from fury, despair, and exhaustion. All of it tangled so tightly I couldn’t separate one from the other.

Betrayed by my mate. Rejected by my father. Shamed before the entire pack. All because I gave birth to a daughter.

I turned slowly toward the crib, my heart cracking at the sight of her tiny form. Her chest rose and fell with gentle breaths, her lips forming the faintest pout as she dreamed.

Peaceful. Innocent. Unaware of the world that already hated her for existing.

I reached out and picked her up, cradling her gently against my chest. Her warmth grounded me. She didn’t cry. She didn’t resist. She simply nestled closer, trusting me with every breath she took.

“Hello, Athena,” I whispered, my voice shaking with emotion. “That’s your name now. You’ll grow up smart and brave. I’ll make sure of it.”

The name tasted right on my tongue.

Strong, noble, divine. A name fit for a warrior.

As if she understood, Athena let out a soft coo, and a small smile curved my lips. In the middle of this hell, she was my only light.

Then the door burst open.

I tensed instantly, my heart slamming in my chest as I turned—and saw Esmeralda, Cyrus’s mother.

“There she is,” she said coldly, her voice devoid of emotion. Her finger pointed directly at me as a group of men in dark uniforms stepped into the room behind her.

My instincts screamed. I held Athena tighter, my eyes darting between them.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “What are you trying to do?”

Esmeralda didn’t answer me. She turned instead to the men with her, speaking as though I wasn’t even in the room.

“The male heir has developed sudden heart complications. He needs a transplant. Take that child, use her heart for the operation.”

I couldn’t believe what I just heard.

The wolf inside me stirred instantly, hackles raised, releasing a thick wave of energy that filled the room like a threat. It wasn’t as overwhelming as Cyrus’s aura, but as a Luna, I still had the power to suppress others.

The men in black uniforms froze midstep, caught under the weight of my dominance. But Esmeralda didn’t seem to notice. She mistook their hesitation for weakness.

“What are you waiting for?” she snapped, voice sharp. “Just take the child! How hard can it be?”

One of them tried to move forward, but before he could reach me, my wolf lashed out. He flew back, crashing against the wall with a grunt, blood streaking his face.

I didn’t flinch. I clutched Athena closer, grounding myself in the feel of her tiny body in my arms.

“Take another step,” I warned, my voice low and steady, “and I’ll rip you to pieces.”

Esmeralda looked stunned, like she couldn’t believe I was resisting. Her expression twisted with rage as she jabbed a finger at me.

“You’re seriously standing in the way of saving the heir?” she spat. “Hand over the heart of that useless child. This is your chance to prove you’re still worth something as Cyrus’s Luna.”

I let out a cold laugh. “If she’s so useless, why do you need her heart?”

Her mouth opened for a retort, but before she could speak, another figure entered the room.

It was Cyrus. He walked in with that usual quiet authority, eyes scanning the scene until they landed on Athena in my arms. Esmeralda turned to him immediately, as if reinforcements had just arrived.

“She refuses to give the child,” she said quickly. “It’s the only way she can still serve this pack, and yet she dares to disobey.”

Cyrus frowned. My heart pounded in my chest as I turned to face him.

“Are you really going to let them take your own daughter’s heart?” I asked, my voice trembling despite how hard I tried to hold it steady. I needed him to say no. Just one word.

But his face remained cold.

“Lyra,” he said, his tone emotionless, “listen to my mother. It’s just a heart. You can always have another child.”

I stared at him in disbelief. Then I laughed. Bitterly. Of course. He’d never chosen me. Why did I think he would choose her?

“If it’s just a heart,” I said sharply, “why not give yours? Isn’t that your son?”

Cyrus’s eyes narrowed. “That is our son—”

“He is not mine,” I snapped. “And I will not give my child’s heart to him.”

His gaze didn’t waver. My grief, my rage, it didn’t reach him. He was unmoved.

“If that’s your decision,” he said.

Then he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Pain pierced my arm. I looked down in shock, a tranquilizer dart stuck out of my skin.

I gasped, my body reacting too fast. My limbs went heavy, muscles turning to jelly. I tried to fight it, to hold on tighter to Athena, but my strength was gone. My fingers slipped and Athena rolled slightly out of my grasp.

No.

I tried to reach for her, to gather one last shred of willpower, but my vision blurred. My lips moved soundlessly, mouthing her name again and again.

They pulled her from my arms.

She cried out, a raw, highpitched scream. From the sound of it, Esmeralda had grabbed her too tightly. I wanted to shout. I wanted to claw my way across the floor, to protect her with my body but I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t even scream.

I lay there, paralyzed and useless, watching them walk away.

Cyrus said something to the man who tranquilized me. Then they all turned to leave. The door creaked shut behind them.

Athena’s last cry echoed in my ears.

Then silence. Only the sound of my heart breaking remained louder than the tears streaming down my face.

It was hours, maybe more, before I could move again.

My limbs were stiff, like they hadn’t been used in days, but I forced myself to sit up. Every muscle screamed in protest, but I ignored it. The moment I regained my footing, I headed for the nurse’s station, stumbling slightly as I walked through the hallway with nothing but the sound of my own breathing.

When I arrived, the staff looked up with wide eyes. I didn’t waste time.

“Where’s my child?” I asked, my voice raspy from disuse.

One of the nurses exchanged glances with the others.

“They already took her,” she said quietly. “To another hospital.”

I felt like the floor disappeared beneath me. “What? When?”

“You’ve been unconscious for almost twentyfour hours,” she said, more hesitant this time. “The tranquilizer kept you under longer than expected.”

Twentyfour hours.

That was more than enough time for them to do what they came for. My knees buckled, but I caught myself on the edge of the counter. I stared at them, trying to make sense of what I was hearing, but the room was already spinning.

I walked out of the nurse’s station in a daze, my body moving on its own. I felt like a ghost, nothing more than a shell. My legs carried me a few steps farther before I collapsed against the wall, hugging myself.

“Athena,” I whispered, my voice cracking as the tears came fast. “My baby…”

I sank to the floor and cried until I couldn’t breathe. I kept murmuring her name like it could somehow bring her back. I apologized to her in broken whispers, telling her this world didn’t deserve someone like her, someone too pure for any of us.

And then rage took over.

The image of Cyrus and Esmeralda flashed in my mind. They took her. They took my baby. I stood up with renewed fury, ready to tear through the packhouse if I had to. I didn’t care anymore. If they wanted war, I would give it to them.

But before I could take another step, two men blocked my way. Subordinates of Cyrus. Their expressions were unreadable.

“Alpha’s orders,” one of them said. “Luna, you need to return to your room.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Now you call me Luna? Then tell me, how dare your Alpha order the murder of an innocent child?”

They didn’t answer. They just gripped my arms tighter and dragged me back to my room.

They posted guards outside. I wasn’t allowed to leave. For three whole days, I was locked inside like a prisoner, pacing like a caged wolf, my rage boiling just beneath the surface.

And then she came.

Calista walked into the room as if she owned it, her heels clicking confidently on the tile floor. She held something in her hands, a white ceramic urn.

I froze.

“What’s that?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

She smiled, cruel and casual.

“The ashes of your child,” she said, lifting the jar slightly. “I thought I’d do you the favor of delivering it myself.”

My breath stopped. My eyes fixated on the jar. I took a step forward, ready to grab it from her hands.

But she let go.

It slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a loud crash. The urn shattered, ceramic pieces scattered in all directions. The ashes spilled across the floor like dust in the wind.

“Oh no,” she said, mockingly. “Oops.”

Before I could react, she stepped on it.

She dragged her heel across the ashstreaked floor, grinding it under her shoe like dirt. I lunged, rage exploding from my chest but the guards blocked me. They held me back while Calista straightened her dress.

“No need to get emotional,” she said, brushing imaginary lint off her skirt. “The male heir is perfectly healthy. The operation was a success. You should be proud.”

I didn’t hear the rest. I couldn’t. My screams were trapped in my throat. Calista turned and left the room without a care in the world, the door clicking softly behind her.

The moment she was gone, I dropped to my knees.

I scrambled to the floor, trying to collect the ashes with my bare hands. They were too scattered. Too thin. My fingers bled from the sharp edges of the broken ceramic, but I didn’t stop. I scooped what I could, whispering her name over and over again, my vision blurred by tears and blood.

Then I paused.

Something inside me snapped. The pain went quiet. My hands froze above the broken shards. Slowly, I turned my head toward the window.

The guards didn’t notice.

I stood up without a word. I walked across the room and climbed onto the ledge. The world outside was quiet, deceptively peaceful.

Five floors up.

I stared down with empty eyes.

And I jumped.

Everyone in the room fell silent, like the very air had been sucked out.

The tension was thick and suffocating. No one dared meet Cyrus's eyes, the air pulsing with his dominance. His aura was heavy, thick with disappointment and quiet fury, pressing down on everyone until even breathing felt like a struggle.

Cyrus stood by the window, the papers in his hand trembling slightly. His eyes moved over the results again and again, as if trying to find something that wasn’t there. Finally, his voice cut through the silence.

"You mean to say the heart will be rejected?" He asked, voice low but firm.

The doctor nodded, his shoulders tense.

"Yes, Alpha. The child born from you and Luna Lyra possessed extraordinary vitality. Her organs, especially the heart, were too strong. Your son... He is ordinary. Transplanting that heart would only lead to complications. Receiving such a powerful heart would overwhelm his system. It would kill him."

Cyrus's jaw tightened as he digested the words. He frowned, his eyes still fixed on the paper as he absorbed the words.

He had always imagined a son as the ideal heir, someone to inherit the pack, to carry on his name. But now, faced with this truth, he couldn’t ignore the facts.

Reality struck with cruel irony.

The child he thought would be the perfect heir was too fragile to survive.

I gave birth without assistance, and yet the baby remained healthy and even thrived, crying the loudest the moment she was born. That in itself spoke volumes. That daughter, though unplanned and born in chaos, was strong. Just like him.

But Esmeralda refused to accept the truth. Her face twisted in disbelief. Her voice rose, shrill with denial.

"What are you talking about, doctor? My grandson is the future Alpha. It’s just a heart! Perform the transplant!"

"Madam," the doctor said gently but firmly, "this is not a simple matter. Heart transplants, especially among werewolves, involved powerful physiological factors. Compatibility wasn't just about blood type. There were spiritual bonds at play. And in this case, the child’s body simply could not accept the strength of the Luna’s daughter’s heart."

"That's absurd!" Esmeralda snapped. "He is an Alpha's son. He can't be weak!"

The doctor looked at her for a long moment before shifting his gaze to Cyrus, then to Calista, who had been quiet in the corner. His next words were measured.

"That is precisely why the goddess chooses a Luna to bear the Alpha’s heir. Without that bond, the child is at a disadvantage."

With that, he gave a small bow and excused himself. His words left the room colder than before.

Calista’s expression barely shifted, but if one looked closely, they would have seen the tightness in her jaw and the way her fingers curled subtly into fists.

But no one was watching her. Everyone's attention remained on the frail boy in the crib, his breathing shallow, his skin too pale.

Esmeralda started pacing, muttering under her breath about incompetence and how they needed a better specialist.

"Alpha Cyrus," she said, turning to her son, her voice filled with urgency, "we can’t give up. Find a better doctor. Bring in someone who knows what they’re doing. We won’t let the future Alpha die."

Cyrus didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on the boy, then slowly lifted.

There was a storm behind his eyes. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, as if weighing every consequence, every choice.

The doctor's words had taken root in his thoughts.

The legacy, the power, the bloodline. But somewhere deep in that silence, a different realization had taken root. One he had long refused to face.

Yes, the daughter he had with me was not a son, but strength was not defined by gender. There were packs led by fierce female Alphas, and they commanded just as much respect.

"Cyrus," Esmeralda said again, now frustrated. "Are you even listening to me? Are you not concerned about your son?"

Cyrus finally turned, his voice calm. "I will check on my and Lyra's child."

The silence that followed his words was deafening.

"What do you mean?" Esmeralda gasped. "You're going to see that child? That bastard? While your son is here suffering?"

A wave of pressure swept through the room, so thick it was hard to stand. Esmeralda stumbled back, caught off guard by the sheer force of Cyrus's aura.

"Between that child and Lyra's," Cyrus said slowly, his voice cold and sharp, "which one is really the bastard?"

Esmeralda’s lips parted, but no words came.

He turned to leave, but Calista quickly stepped into his path, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Alpha Cyrus," she said, her voice trembling with forced vulnerability, "what about our son? Please, can you stay a little longer? I’m scared... what if something happens to him?"

Cyrus paused. For a moment, something in his expression softened. He sighed heavily.

"I’ll stay," he said, his voice quieter now. "But only for a short while. I need to see my other child."

"No, wait—!" Calista reached out, trying to grab his arm, but before she could, the door burst open.

One of the men Cyrus had assigned to guard Lyra's room entered, looking visibly shaken. His breathing was uneven, and his eyes flicked anxiously around the room. Behind him, more followed. They looked shaken.

Cyrus straightened, eyes narrowing. "What happened?"

The man hesitated, then stepped forward. His face was pale.

"Alpha... we found Madam’s room too quiet. We assumed she was asleep, but when we went to check—"

A sudden jolt ripped through Cyrus’s chest. His breath caught. A pain surged in his ribs, piercing and unnatural. He staggered, gripping his chest, as if something invisible had reached into his soul and yanked it loose.

"Cyrus!" Esmeralda ran to his side, alarmed. "What is it? Are you alright?"

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The pain wasn’t physical. It was deeper. Something primal. Something tied to the soul.

His eyes turned red with the weight of instinct and dread. He looked at the men, voice hoarse.

"Lyra... what happened to her?"

The man exhaled, bracing himself. "Madam... jumped from the fifth floor. She’s dead."