The knife hit the table at exactly 7:43 PM, right between my water glass and Yareli's perfectly manicured hand.

I didn't drop it. I set it down, blade first, hard enough that the sound cut through Lorelai's lecture about proper serving etiquette at tomorrow's summit. Hard enough that my father finally looked up from his plate.

"Sophia," Lorelai said, her voice dripping with that false maternal concern that made my skin crawl. "You'll need to be at the reception hall by six AM sharp. The real Alphas arrive at eight, and someone needs to arrange the beverage trays."

Across the table, Yareli didn't even try to hide her smirk. She was practically glowing in the new gown Travis had bought her—midnight blue silk that probably cost more than I'd seen in a year. She held up her phone, angling the screen so I couldn't miss it.

"Travis just sent me his summit registration profile," she announced, her voice sugary and sharp. "Want to hear it, Sophia? 'Alpha Travis Moore, Ashvale Pack, verified near-Lycan bloodline.'" She drew out each word like she was savoring expensive chocolate. "He's been personally invited to the Lycan Prince's reception. Can you imagine?"

I could imagine a lot of things. Most of them involved wiping that smirk off her face.

"How wonderful," I said flatly.

Lorelai's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "You should be grateful we're allowing you to attend at all, given your... condition." The way she said 'condition' made it sound like a disease. "Most wolfless pack members aren't permitted at regional summits. But someone needs to serve refreshments, and the pack needs to present a united front."

United. Right. United like the way they'd united to drive my mother out. United like the way my father sat there every single night, cutting his steak into smaller and smaller pieces while Lorelai picked apart everything I did, everything I was.

My fingers found my mother's locket under the table. The silver was warm against my palm, worn smooth from years of worry. Mom had been a healer. A good one. Strong enough that even the Alphas had respected her, right up until Lorelai's poison campaign destroyed her reputation, her wolf, her life.

I was eleven when they exiled her. Thirteen when we got word she'd died alone, rogue and broken, in some nameless stretch of territory three states over.

Yareli was still talking, reading Travis's messages aloud like they were poetry. "He says the summit is the perfect place to make connections. He's thinking of expanding Ashvale's territory next spring..."

I tuned her out. My decision crystallized with the same cold clarity as the locket's silver.

Tomorrow. The summit. Travis Moore with his verified near-Lycan bloodline and his expensive gifts and his arrogant, parading girlfriend.

I was going to destroy him. Destroy them both.

Not with strength I didn't have. Not with a wolf that had never awakened. But with the only weapon I'd ever been allowed to keep—my face, my body, my ability to make men look twice.

If Yareli wanted to flaunt her Alpha boyfriend, fine. Let's see how smug she stayed when that boyfriend couldn't keep his eyes off her wolfless stepsister.

"May I be excused?" I asked.

Lorelai waved a dismissive hand. My father said nothing. Yareli was too busy texting to notice.

I climbed the stairs to my room—the smallest bedroom, naturally, the one that used to be storage—and locked the door behind me. Then I opened my laptop and started working.

Yareli's social media was a gold mine. She'd posted approximately eight thousand photos of Travis over the past six months, each one tagged with breathless captions about his strength, his lineage, his Alpha aura. I studied every angle. Memorized the set of his shoulders, the way he stood, the dark hair, the build.

Then I opened the encrypted browser I'd installed last year and found what I needed on a black-market pack supplier site. Synthetic Alpha-attractant scent lure. Pheromone-enhanced. The reviews promised it could make any wolf turn his head, mate bond or not.

I paid extra for overnight shipping.

The package arrived at noon the next day, plain brown box with no return address. Inside: a small vial of clear liquid that smelled like fake roses and something sharper, almost chemical. The instructions said to apply it to pulse points and layer it under perfume for maximum effect.

I stood in front of my bathroom mirror for twenty minutes, practicing. Practicing the smile that looked inviting instead of desperate. The laugh that sounded genuine. The way to touch a man's arm that suggested interest without seeming cheap.

This wasn't seduction. This was war.

I tried on three dresses before settling on the red one—fitted, elegant, just low enough to be interesting. I applied the synthetic lure to my wrists and throat, then covered it with the cheapest floral perfume I owned. The combination was cloying, artificial, but it masked my real scent completely.

Good. I didn't want to smell like myself tonight. I wanted to smell like every fantasy Yareli had shoved in my face for the past year.

The summit reception hall was already crowded when I arrived. Alphas and their mates clustered in groups, their auras pressing against each other in invisible territorial displays. I felt the weight of their power like humidity, thick and oppressive.

I scanned the room. There—standing apart from the main crowd, broad-shouldered and commanding, dark-haired and tall. The build matched every photo I'd memorized.

Travis Moore.

My heart kicked against my ribs. Not nerves. Anticipation.

I crossed the room like I had every right to be there. Like I wasn't staff. Like I was exactly the kind of woman an Alpha with a verified near-Lycan bloodline would want.

He turned as I approached, and his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath.

I smiled. Leaned close. Let my fingers brush his arm.

"You look like you could use better company," I said softly.

I pulled a cocktail napkin from the bar, wrote my number across it in quick strokes, and pressed it into his palm. His hand was warm. Strong. It trembled slightly around his glass.

Perfect.

"Dinner?" I whispered. "Tomorrow night. Just us."

He pocketed the napkin, and a slow smile crossed his face. "Travis," he said, his voice low and rough.

I smiled back, victory singing through my veins.

"I know exactly who you are."

I walked away from him with my pulse hammering victory in my throat. The synthetic lure was working. The red dress was working. Everything was working exactly as I'd planned.

I made it maybe ten steps before Yareli materialized at my elbow.

She was wearing the midnight blue gown from dinner, the one Travis had bought her, and she looked like she'd stepped out of a magazine. Her arm was looped through a man's—tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired. He had the kind of presence that made other wolves step aside without thinking about it.

"Sophia!" Yareli's voice was sugar and venom. "I didn't know you were attending the reception. I thought you were on beverage duty."

The man beside her turned. His eyes swept over me with the kind of dismissive assessment Alphas reserved for Omegas. His aura pressed against my skin, heavy and arrogant.

"This is my Alpha," Yareli purred, and then she rose on her toes and kissed him. Full on the mouth. Right there in the middle of the reception hall, with half the regional packs watching.

My blood turned to ice water.

This man was shorter than the one I'd just approached. Different build. His shoulders were wider, but his stance was wrong—too stiff, too performative. The arrogance in his posture wasn't natural. It was practiced.

Yareli pulled back from the kiss and smiled at me. Her lipstick was perfect. "Travis Moore, Alpha of the Ashvale Pack. Verified near-Lycan bloodline." She said each word like she was placing stones on a scale. "This is my stepsister, Sophia. She's... well. She's here."

Travis—the real Travis—looked me over again. His lip curled slightly. "Charmed."

I stared at him. At the way he held his glass. At the set of his jaw. At everything that was wrong.

Yareli's smile sharpened into something poisonous. "Looking for someone, Sophia? Stay in your lane, wolfless."

I forced my face into a smile. Empty. Bright. The kind of smile I'd been practicing in mirrors since I was thirteen. "Just admiring the company," I said lightly. "You two look perfect together."

Yareli's eyes narrowed, but I was already turning away, already moving toward the exit with my heart slamming against my ribs.

I made it to the parking lot before my hands started shaking.

The man I'd approached wasn't Travis Moore.

I'd given my number to a complete stranger. I'd pressed a napkin into his palm and whispered about dinner and leaned close enough to let the synthetic lure do its work, and I had no idea who he was.

I sat in my car for twenty minutes, replaying every detail. The way he'd looked at me—not with Travis's performative arrogance, but with something deeper. Hungrier. The way his hand had trembled around his glass. The way he'd said my name—no, wait. He hadn't said my name. He'd just said "Travis" when I'd asked.

He'd lied.

Or I'd assumed.

Or both.

My phone was in my hand before I realized I'd pulled it out. No messages. No missed calls. Just the blank screen and my own reflection staring back at me, wide-eyed and flushed.

I drove home. Lorelai was already asleep. My father's study light was off. Yareli's room was dark.

I locked my bedroom door and sat on the edge of my bed, still in the red dress, still smelling like fake roses and chemical lure.

Who did I just give my number to?

My phone buzzed at 11:47 PM.

I grabbed it so fast I nearly dropped it.

Unsaved number. The message was brief. Magnetic.

*Dinner. Friday. Your pick of venue. —Travis*

I stared at the screen until the words blurred.

He'd played along. He'd called himself Travis. He'd pocketed my napkin and smiled and now he was texting me like this was normal, like I hadn't just made the most catastrophic mistake of my life.

I should delete the message. Block the number. Pretend tonight never happened.

But something stopped me.

Something about the way he'd looked at me. The way his scent had wrapped around me even through the synthetic perfume—something I couldn't consciously name but that had been humming beneath my sternum since the reception. Something that made the right side of my neck feel warm, exactly where a mate mark would sit if I had a wolf to feel it.

I typed back before I could think too hard.

*I'll send you the address.*

I hit send.

Then I sat there in the dark, holding my phone, feeling the phantom warmth bloom across my skin.

Friday came too fast and too slow.

I chose a steakhouse two towns over, far enough from pack territory that no one would recognize me. I arrived ten minutes early in a fitted black dress, synthetic lure reapplied, armed with rehearsed vulnerability and calculated smiles.

He was already there.

He'd taken a booth in the back corner, away from the windows. When I walked in, his eyes found me instantly. He stood—an old-fashioned gesture that made something in my chest twist—and waited until I slid into the seat across from him.

"Sophia," he said. Just my name. Like it meant something.

Up close, in better lighting, he was devastating. Dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes that looked grey in some light and silver in others. His presence filled the booth, a possessive Alpha warmth that had nothing to do with the man I'd been targeting.

I smiled. Leaned forward slightly. Let my fingers toy with the edge of my napkin. "I'm glad you came."

"I wouldn't miss it."

The server appeared. We ordered. I asked for a salad—something light, something that wouldn't smudge my lipstick. He ordered a steak, rare, and didn't look at the menu.

When the server left, he leaned back and studied me. Not the way Travis—the real Travis—had looked at me at the reception. Not dismissive or arrogant. This was different. Hungry. Tender. Like he was memorizing every detail.

"Tell me about yourself," he said.

I launched into the script I'd rehearsed. Vague details about pack life. Careful omissions about my wolfless state. Practiced laughter at the right moments.

He listened. Really listened. His attention was so complete it made my skin prickle.

The bread basket arrived. We both reached for it at the same time.

His fingers grazed mine.

The electric current that jolted through me was so violent I nearly dropped my water glass. It wasn't static. It wasn't accidental. It was something deeper, something that started at the point of contact and spread through my entire body like wildfire.

I covered the reaction with a laugh. Pulled my hand back. Grabbed a roll I didn't want.

"Sorry," I said lightly. "Clumsy."

His eyes hadn't left my face. "Don't apologize."

I wrote another napkin note under the table while he was looking at the menu. Something flirty. Something that suggested a second date. I slid it across the table when the steaks arrived.

He read it. Tucked it into his breast pocket without breaking eye contact.

Then he smiled.

It wasn't the smile I'd expected. It wasn't arrogant or performative or calculated.

It was tender. Hungry. Possessive in a way that made my rehearsed smile falter—just for a fraction of a second.

"I'll hold you to that," he said softly.

And the warmth on the right side of my neck bloomed hotter, phantom and impossible, exactly where a mate mark would sit if I had a wolf to feel it.

The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and something sharper I could never quite place.

I was stirring my coffee when Yareli swept in, phone in hand, already talking.

"So Travis told me last night—and I mean, he was being modest, but I made him tell me everything—his bloodline goes back four generations of verified Alpha stock. Four, Sophia. Do you know how rare that is?" She didn't wait for an answer. She never did. "And his pack resources? The Ashvale territory includes two major commercial zones. He's projecting a thirty percent revenue increase next quarter."

I kept stirring. The spoon made small circles in the mug. Round and round.

"He's been approached about challenging for a seat at the Lycan Council," Yareli continued, leaning against the counter with the kind of casual elegance that came from never having scrubbed it. "Can you imagine? My mate on the Council. We'd have to attend state functions. I'd need an entirely new wardrobe."

I took a sip of coffee. It was too hot. I swallowed anyway.

Yareli's eyes narrowed slightly. She was watching my face, waiting for something. Envy, maybe. Anger. Any crack in the blank expression I'd learned to wear like armor.

I gave her nothing.

The kitchen door swung open. Lorelai entered carrying a bowl, steam rising from whatever she'd prepared. She set it in front of me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said. The endearment was poison wrapped in silk. "I made your favorite. You look peaky this morning. You need to keep your strength up."

The porridge was pale grey, studded with dried fruit. The same breakfast she'd served me since I was thirteen. Special recipe, she always said. Just for you.

I picked up the spoon.

"Travis says the summit connections are already paying off," Yareli said, still scrolling through her phone. "He met three regional Alphas last week. They're talking about a joint territory expansion."

The porridge tasted like cardboard and something bitter underneath. I ate it anyway. I always did.

The kitchen door opened again. My father walked in, poured himself coffee from the pot, and walked out without looking at either of us. His footsteps faded down the hallway.

Lorelai watched me eat. "Finish it all, dear. You need the nutrients."

I scraped the bowl clean.

Yareli finally pocketed her phone and smiled at me. It was the same smile she'd worn at the reception when she'd kissed the real Travis in front of half the regional packs. Sharp. Triumphant.

"Some girls," she said lightly, "just have all the luck. Right, Sophia?"

I stood. Rinsed my bowl in the sink. Dried my hands on the towel.

"Right," I said.

I left them both in the kitchen and climbed the stairs to my room. Behind me, I heard Yareli laugh.

---

A week after the steakhouse, I texted him.

*Forest trail tonight? There's a path on neutral territory. Moonlit. Private.*

His reply came in under a minute.

*Send me the coordinates.*

I chose the trail carefully. Far enough from pack borders that no patrols would pass. Close enough to civilization that I could leave if things went wrong. I wore a soft sweater and jeans, nothing too obvious, but I'd reapplied the synthetic lure before I left.

He was already there when I arrived. Leaning against a tree at the trailhead, hands in his pockets, looking like he'd stepped out of some old photograph. The moon was nearly full, hanging low and silver through the branches.

"You're early," I said, smiling.

"I didn't want to miss you."

We started walking. The trail was narrow, forcing us close. I let my shoulder brush his. Let my hair fall forward so it caught the moonlight. I'd rehearsed this. Planned every step.

But the forest did something to him.

His presence expanded in the open air, filling the space between the trees with something primal and overwhelming. It wasn't just confidence. It was power, raw and magnetic, the kind that made my breath catch and my rehearsed lines dissolve before they reached my tongue.

I tried anyway. "It's beautiful out here," I said. My voice came out softer than I'd intended. "I thought you might like—"

He stopped walking.

I turned. He was looking at me with an intensity that made my pulse stutter. The moonlight caught his eyes and turned them luminous, something beyond human, beyond anything I'd seen before.

He didn't say anything. Just looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he was memorizing every detail. Like he'd been waiting his entire life for this exact moment.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried for a flirtatious quip, something light to break the tension.

"You're staring," I managed. My voice cracked.

His mouth curved into a smile. Gentle. Devastating.

"I know," he said quietly.

The warmth on the right side of my neck bloomed so hot I almost touched it. Almost checked to see if there was a mark there, impossible and phantom and undeniable.

I turned away. Started walking again, faster this time. My fists clenched at my sides.

"We should head back," I said. "It's getting late."

He followed without argument. Walked me to my car. Opened the door for me like we were living in some other century.

"Good night, Sophia," he said.

I drove home with my hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, telling myself I was winning. Telling myself this was all going exactly according to plan.

My entire body burned with the memory of his proximity. With a scent I couldn't consciously identify but that something deep inside me was screaming to reach.

---

The next evening, Yareli's voice carried through the entire house.

"Sophia! Come look at this!"

I found her in the living room, phone held up like a trophy. Lorelai was already there, perched on the sofa with her evening tea.

Yareli's screen showed a photo series. Her and Travis—the real Travis—at some upscale restaurant. His arm around her shoulders. Her head tilted against his chest. The caption read: *Nothing like having a REAL Alpha by your side 💅 Some girls will never know the feeling 🐺*

She read it aloud. Slowly. Making sure I heard every word.

Lorelai sipped her tea. "It is a shame," she said, voice dripping with faux-pity, "that some she-wolves never shift. It must be a deficiency of character, not just blood."

My father passed through the hallway. Saw us. Sighed. Looked at the window instead.

Yareli scrolled to the next photo. "Travis says we're the perfect match. Bloodline, status, power. Everything aligned."

I stood there. Looked at the photos. At Yareli's perfect smile. At the real Travis's arrogant posture.

Inside my chest, something crystallized. Hard. Cold. Diamond-sharp.

This wasn't about Yareli anymore.

This was about every single person in this house who'd looked away while my mother was destroyed. Who'd watched me be ground down year after year and done nothing. Who'd fed me poison and called it love.

"Beautiful photos," I said evenly.

Yareli's smile faltered. Just slightly. She'd been expecting rage. Tears. Envy.

I gave her nothing.

I turned and walked upstairs. Closed my bedroom door. Pulled out my phone.

One new message.

*I'm still thinking about the forest. When can I see you again? —Travis*

I stared at the screen. At the name that wasn't his name. At the lie we were both living.

I typed back.

*Soon. I'll let you know.*

Then I opened my laptop and started planning.