My Brother Chose His Foster Sister, So I Chose the Rival Alpha

The roster board outside the pack hall had my name on it for five years straight.

North Patrol Lead: Ava.

Tonight, someone had pinned a fresh sheet over it.

I stood there with the Moon Ceremony drums already starting up behind me, reading the new name three times as if the ink might rearrange itself. Celeste. My foster sister. The girl who still asked me which side of the creek the old den markers were on.

"Ava!"

I turned. Logan was coming across the clearing, Beta insignia pinned to his collar, and Celeste was right beside him in a crisp charcoal patrol jacket so new it still had fold lines across the chest. Her blond hair was braided back the way I wore mine on duty.

She saw my face and slowed down, fingers tugging at her sleeve.

"Hey," Logan said, like this was any other night. "I was going to find you."

"You found me." I nodded at the board. "What is this?"

He had the decency to glance at it before answering. Logan had raised us both after our parents died, and he'd always had this way of looking tired and certain at the same time, like every decision he made had already cost him something.

"Celeste's had a great year," he said. "Her tracking scores are up, the Alpha likes her, and she's ready for more responsibility. I'm naming her North Patrol Lead tonight."

The drums picked up. Someone laughed near the fire pit.

"Tonight," I repeated. "You're telling me ten minutes before the ceremony."

"It came together fast."

"I've mapped every inch of that border. I built the patrol routes. I've been running the first-night training for the younger wolves since they were in middle school." My voice stayed level, which surprised me. "So what about me?"

Logan didn't even hesitate.

"You can help her."

For a second, I honestly thought he was joking. He wasn't. He said it the way he'd tell me to grab milk on the way home, easy and obvious, like the answer had never been in question.

Celeste stepped forward and caught my hand. Her palm was clammy.

"Ava, I told him this was a bad idea," she said, eyes going glossy. "I don't want to take your spot. Seriously. If you're upset, I'll just tell the Alpha no."

I looked down at her hand on mine. She'd never once turned down anything I'd had first. Not my room when she moved in, not my jacket, not my seat next to Logan at dinner.

"Then tell him no," I said.

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Logan put his hand on her shoulder before she had to find something. "Hey. You're not taking anything from anyone." He squeezed. "You're just finally getting a chance to prove yourself. Don't apologize for that."

Then he looked at me, and his voice dropped into the one he used on unruly pups. "Right, Ava?"

The whole pack was gathering. The Alpha was already at the stone circle, moonlight catching the silver in his beard.

I pulled my hand out of Celeste's. "Sure, Logan."

---

They called her name under the moon, and the pack cheered.

I stood at the edge of the circle and clapped because everyone could see me. Celeste bowed her head for the Alpha's blessing, then came out beaming, pink-cheeked, swallowed up by hugs and back slaps. Logan stood behind her like a proud father at graduation.

It took about fifteen minutes for the real questions to start.

Marcus, one of the senior trackers, made his way over with his beer. "Congrats, kid. So what's the plan for the ridge line? Are you keeping the double loop past the quarry, or cutting back to single rotations now that summer's over?"

Celeste smiled at him. Then her eyes slid sideways, straight to me.

I took a sip of my cider.

"Um," she said. "We're still, you know, finalizing that."

Marcus frowned but let it go. Behind him, a mother I'd trained two years ago stepped up with her son, a skinny fifteen-year-old who'd shift for his first night patrol next month.

"Jordan's so nervous," she said, laughing. "Will you be pairing him with an older wolf, or does he go out with the group? Ava always did the buddy system."

Celeste's gaze found me again, faster this time. A little desperate.

I knew the answer. Buddy system for the first three runs, then group, then solo along the creek only. I'd written the whole thing down in a binder that was sitting on my kitchen table.

I said nothing.

"Buddy system," Celeste said, too bright. "Definitely."

Then Harlan pushed through, still smelling of pine and wet earth from his shift. He didn't bother with congratulations.

"Rogue scent's been drifting over the north markers again. Three nights this week, stronger each time, and it's moving east of where it was in spring. What are you doing about it?"

The people around us went quiet. This was the question that actually mattered, and everyone knew it.

Celeste turned to me fully now, lips parted, eyes wide. Waiting. The way she'd waited my whole life for me to step in and smooth things over.

I held her gaze and kept my mouth shut.

The silence stretched until it became embarrassing. Harlan looked from her to me, then back again, and I watched understanding settle across his face.

"I'll look into it," Celeste finally whispered.

"You do that," Harlan said, and walked away.

Over her shoulder, Logan was staring at me. He wasn't proud anymore.

---

He didn't say a word the whole drive home. Celeste went straight upstairs, and her door clicked shut with a soft, wounded sort of sound.

Logan dropped his keys in the bowl hard enough to rattle it.

"What the hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"Don't." He turned around, arms crossed. "You stood there and let her drown in front of the entire pack. On her night. You knew every single answer."

"I did," I said.

"So why didn't you help her?"

"Because I wasn't asked to lead, Logan. She was."

He dragged a hand down his face. "I told you, you're supposed to help her. That was the whole point. She's new at this. She needed you, and you made her look like an idiot on purpose."

"She didn't need me to make her look like anything."

"Ava." It came out sharp. "That's beneath you."

I laughed, and it sounded strange even to me. My binder was still on the table between us, five years of tracking notes, tabbed and color-coded.

"Okay. Then explain something to me," I said. "If she needs me to answer every question about the routes, the training, the rogue scent, all of it, then why isn't the North Patrol Lead me?"

Logan's brow creased, like I'd asked something childish.

"Because you don't need to prove yourself anymore."

He said it gently. That was the worst part. He actually meant it as a compliment.

"Everyone already knows what you can do," he went on. "You'll be fine no matter what title you have. Celeste isn't like you. She needs this."

He patted my shoulder on his way to the stairs, and I heard him knock softly on her door. Heard her muffled crying. Heard him say, "Hey. It's okay. You did great."

I stood alone in the kitchen with my hand flat on the binder.

For years I'd thought being dependable was what earned me my place in this family. I'd shown up early, stayed late, fixed what broke, and never asked for anything, because I believed that was how you made yourself impossible to replace.

But it had worked the other way around.

The more I could handle, the easier I was to give away.