CECELIAS POV

The list sat between us on Zeke's desk like an accusation. Seven names. That was all I could come up with. Seven people in Seacreek who knew Golden existed and that Zeke

was his father.

"That's it?"

Zeke asked, scanning the paper.

"Seacreek is a small pack. I kept to myself mostly." I pointed at the names. "Fatima and her three children, though they're too young to really understand. My neighbor

Elena who watched Golden sometimes when I had to work late. Marcus at the market where I worked. And Sarah,

Golden's preschool teacher."

Zeke made notes next to each name. "What about medical

records? Did you take Golden to a healer?"

"The pack healer, yes. But I never mentioned who his father was. I just said he wasn't in the picture."

"The healer would have seen his eyes." Zeke tapped his pen against the desk. "Those eyes are

distinctive. Anyone who's seen me would make the connection."

I hadn't thought of that. "Doctor Chen is a good man. He wouldn't gossip about his patients."

"People talk, Cecelia. Even good people." Zeke added the healer's name to the list. "What about Fatima's husband?

Other family members?"

"Fatima's a widow. Her husband died in a fishing accident before I arrived." I pulled the list closer, studying the names like they might suddenly reveal themselves as

traitors. "Her children are six, eight, and nine. They knew Golden's father wasn't around but I don't think they

understood the significance."

"Kids repeat things they overhear." Zeke stood, moving to the window. Morning light cut across his face at sharp angles. "Their friends, their teachers, other parents at

school. Information spreads."

The thought made my chest tight. I'd been so careful. I'd never spoken Zeke's name in Seacreek, never mentioned the Brooke Pack, never told anyone where I came from

But Golden's eyes had been a billboard announcement to anyone who looked close enough.

"I'll have investigators interview everyone on this list," Zeke said. "Quietly. We don't want to spook whoever might be

involved."

"They're not involved." The words came out more defensive than I intended. "These people are my friends. They helped

me when I had nothing."

"One of them talked to the wrong person." His voice was gentle but

firm. "Whether they meant to or not, someone gave information that led to Golden being taken."

Before I could respond, a knock interrupted us. One of Zeke's guards entered, looking uncomfortable.

"Alpha, there's a woman here from Seacreek Pack.

She says she's a friend of Miss Mayers and insists on seeing her. We've detained her at the gate but she's quite

persistent."

My heart jumped. "Fatima. That has to be Fatima."

Zeke nodded to the guard. "Bring

her to the main parlor. We'll meet her there."

The main parlor was one of the formal receiving rooms, all dark wood and heavy furniture that screamed old money and Alpha authority. I'd always hated this room during my brief time as Luna. It felt like a stage set, designed to intimidate

rather than welcome.

Fatima rushed in the moment the doors opened, her arms full of bags and her face creased with worry. She took one look at me and dropped everything, pulling me into a fierce hug.

"Thank the goddess you're alright," she breathed against my hair. "I've been worried sick. Your phone kept going to voicemail and I didn't know if something had happened."

I hugged her back, feeling tears prick my eyes. This woman had saved my life, had taken me in when I had nothing, had loved Golden like he was her own grandson. Whatever the

investigation revealed, I knew in my bones Fatima would never hurt us.

"I'm fine," I said, pulling back. "Just exhausted. Everything's been so chaotic."

Fatima's eyes moved past me to where Zeke stood watching us. Her expression shifted, becoming more guarded. "You must be Alpha Zeke."

"Mrs. Fatima." Zeke inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you for coming. And for everything you've done for Cecelia and Golden."

"I didn't do anything special." Fatima bent to gather the bags she'd dropped. "Just what any decent person would do when they find someone in need." She handed the bags to me. "I brought some of Golden's things. His favorite blanket, some clothes, toys. I

thought they might help with the search."

My throat closed up as I looked through the bags. Golden's stuffed whale that he'd had since he was a baby. The blue blanket he couldn't sleep without. A stack of his drawings from preschool. Each item was a punch to the chest, a

reminder of my son's absence.

"Thank you," I managed. "This is perfect."

Zeke took one of the bags from me, pulling out Golden's blanket and holding it carefully. "This will help

the trackers. Fresh scent markers are invaluable."

"Have you found anything?" Fatima asked. "Any leads?"

"Some." Zeke gestured to the seating area. "Please, sit. We have some questions for you."

Fatima's eyes narrowed slightly but she sat. I took the seat next to her, offering silent support. Zeke remained standing,

his Alpha presence filling the room.

"You told my investigators about a woman who came to your house asking questions," Zeke began.

"Can you walk me through that conversation again? Every detail you remember."

Fatima nodded slowly. "It was about a month ago, maybe a little longer. She knocked on my door in the afternoon, carrying a clipboard and wearing professional clothes.

She said she was doing a census for the pack, updating records."

"Did she show identification?"

"She had a badge on a lanyard around her neck. It looked official enough that I didn't question it." Fatima's face tightened with guilt. "I

should have been more careful."

"What did she ask about?" I prompted gently.

"General things at first. How many people lived in the house, their ages, occupations." Fatima met my eyes. "Then she started asking more specific questions about you and

Golden. Whether you had family in the area, if Golden's father was involved in his life, where he went to school."

"And you told her?" Zeke's tone wasn't accusatory but Fatima flinched anyway.

"I saw no reason not to. It seemed like standard census information." She twisted her hands in her lap. "I told her you

lived with me, that you worked at the market, that Golden attended the local preschool. I mentioned his father wasn't in the picture but didn't elaborate."

"Did you mention his eyes?" Zeke asked. "Their unusual color?"

Fatima thought for a moment. "She asked about distinguishing features for all the children. I might have

mentioned that Golden had striking gold eyes. I don't remember exactly." Zeke and I exchanged glances. That would have been enough. Anyone familiar with the Brooke

Pack would recognize those eyes as Alpha bloodline.

"Can you describe this woman?" Zeke pulled out his phone,

presumably to take notes.

"Thirties, I'd guess. Dark hair pulled back in a bun. Average height and build. She had a professional air about her, spoke with confidence." Fatima paused. "There was something else. She had a small scar above her left eyebrow. Just a thin line, but noticeable once you

saw it."

Zeke typed rapidly on his phone. "Anything else? Accent?

Unusual mannerisms?"

"She had a slight accent. I couldn't place it but it wasn't local to Seacreek." Fatima looked at me apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't think this was important before. If I'd known-"

"You couldn't have known," I interrupted. "None of us could have."

A staff member entered with tea service, setting it on the low table

between us. The interruption gave us all a moment to breathe. I poured for Fatima and myself, my hands steadier

than I expected.

"Mrs. Fatima," Zeke said once the staff member had left. "I need to ask you something directly. Did you tell anyone else

about Golden's father? Even in passing, even casually?"

Fatima's eyes widened. "You think I'm involved in this?"

"I think information leaked from somewhere." Zeke's voice was careful. "I'm trying to trace how."

"I never told anyone about Golden's parentage because Cecelia never told me." Fatima's voice went hard. "She showed up on my beach half dead. When she woke up, she

had no memory at first. By the time she remembered, she'd made it clear she wanted to leave her past behind. I respected that."

"But people must have asked questions," Zeke pressed. "A woman shows up pregnant with no history, no pack ties. That would generate talk."

"Of course people talked." Fatima set down her teacup with more force than necessary. "But I shut down gossip when I heard it. As far as Seacreek knew, Cecelia was a widow

who'd lost her mate in a tragedy. No one pushed for details because we respect privacy."

I watched Zeke process this, saw him weighing Fatima's words against his need to find Golden. The Alpha in him wanted to press harder, to interrogate until he was satisfied.

But something held him back.

"I believe you," he said finally. "But someone in Seacreek talked to that woman. Someone gave her enough

information to target Golden specifically."

"Then we need to find out who." Fatima looked at me. "What can I do to help?"

"Tell me about the people on this list." Zeke showed her the paper. "Everyone who might have known or suspected Golden's true parentage."

.

CECELIAS POV

Fatima studied the names. "Elena is a good woman. Single mother with two kids of her own. She watched Golden sometimes but I can't imagine her talking to strangers."

"What about Marcus at the market?"

"Marcus is harmless. A bit of a gossip but not malicious." Fatima tapped the paper. "Though now that you mention it, he did comment once on how Golden looked like he could be Alpheyes."

My stomach dropped. "When was this?"

"A few months ago. I brushed it off as Marcus being dramatic but he seemed quite certain." Fatima's face paled. "You don't think he would have mentioned it to someone else?"

"We need to talk to him." Zeke was already pulling out his phone again, sending messages. "What about Sarah, the

preschool teacher?"

"Sarah's devoted to her students. She's been teaching for twenty

years." Fatima shook her head. "I can't believe she'd do anything to put a child in danger."

"People don't always realize what they're doing," I said quietly. "An innocent comment to the wrong person could be enough."

The door opened and one of Zeke's investigators entered, a young woman with sharp eyes. "Alpha, I have an update from the Seacreek interviews."

"Go ahead," Zeke said.

The investigator glanced at Fatima and me. "It's sensitive information."

"They can hear it," Zeke said firmly.

"We questioned Marcus from the market. He broke down after twenty minutes of questioning." The investigator

consulted her tablet. "He admitted that a woman approached him about six weeks ago. She claimed to be a journalist doing a story on small pack communities and asked about

interesting residents."

My hands clenched in my lap. "What did he tell her?"

"Everything, apparently. About Cecelia showing up three years ago,

about Golden's unusual appearance, about the speculation that the boy might have Alpha blood." The investigator

looked apologetic. "He said the woman paid him five hundred dollars for the information. He thought it was harmless gossip, didn't realize the danger."

Five hundred dollars. Someone had paid Marcus five hundred dollars to betray us and he'd done it without a

second thought. Anger flooded through me so suddenly I had to clench my teeth to keep from screaming.

"Where is he now?" Zeke asked.

"Still in custody. He's cooperating fully and seems genuinely remorseful." The investigator swiped her tablet. "He provided a detailed description of the woman. Dark hair, professional

appearance, scar above her left eyebrow. Matches what Mrs. Fatima described."

"And he didn't think to mention this before?"

Fatima's voice shook with fury. "A strange woman paying hundreds of dollars for information about a child and he saw

nothing wrong with that?"

"He says he thought she was just gathering background for her article." The investigator's expression said what she

thought of that excuse. "He claims he had no idea anything bad would happen."

Zeke dismissed the investigator with orders to continue questioning Marcus. Once we were alone again, the silence felt suffocating.

"I'm going to kill him," Fatima said flatly. "I'm going to walk to wherever you're holding him and strangle Marcus with my bare hands."

"Get in line," I muttered.

Zeke moved to pour himself coffee from the service, his movements controlled but tight with tension. "This confirms what we suspected. Someone's been gathering information about Golden for at least six weeks. This was planned

carefully."

"The woman with the scar," I said. "Can we find her?"

"We're running the description through databases now. If she's associated with any pack, we'll find her." Zeke took a long drink of

coffee. "The question is who she's working for."

"Someone with money," Fatima said. "Five hundred dollars is nothing to sneeze at, especially for information. This isn't some random criminal. This is organized."

"Agreed." Zeke set down his cup. "Which brings us back to motive. Why target Golden? If this is about money, ransom

demands would have come already. If it's personal, who

would want to hurt Cecelia or me through our son?"

The question hung in the air. I ran through possibilities in my mind. My father was dead. Zeke's father was dead. The war between our packs had ended years ago. Who held grudges

that deep?

"Layla," Fatima said suddenly.

Zeke and I both turned to look at her.

"Think about it," Fatima continued. "She tried to kill Cecelia once because she wanted her position. Now Cecelia's back with proof that you have a biological heir. That threatens Layla's son's position,

doesn't it?"

"Cameron isn't my biological son," Zeke said quietly.

The words dropped like stones. Fatima's eyes widened.

"What?"

"We discovered recently that Cameron isn't mine." Zeke's expression was carefully neutral. "Layla lied about the paternity. We confirmed it with testing."

Fatima looked between us, processing this information. "Then she has even more reason to want Golden gone. If he's your only biological heir-"

"She's been removed from any position of authority," Zeke interrupted. "She has no power here anymore."

"Doesn't mean she doesn't have connections." Fatima leaned forward. "A woman scorned and desperate is dangerous. If she arranged this before you discovered the

truth about Cameron-"

"We're investigating Layla's activities," Zeke said. "Her communications, her contacts, her finances. If she's involved, we'll find proof."

I wanted to believe it was Layla. It would be easier somehow if the threat came from a known enemy rather than a

stranger. But something didn't sit right about it. Layla was impulsive and emotional. This kidnapping felt calculated and cold.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. A staff member entered with a message for Zeke. He read it quickly, his

expression darkening.

"The investigators found something in Layla's quarters," he said. "We need to go."

"I'm coming," I said immediately.

Zeke looked like he might argue but nodded. He turned to Fatima. "You're welcome to stay here at the palace. We have plenty of guest rooms and it's safer than Seacreek right

now."

"Thank you, but I need to get back to my children." Fatima stood, hugging me tightly. "You call me the moment you hear

anything, understand?"

"I promise."

As Fatima gathered her things to leave, she pulled me aside while

Zeke was giving orders to his guards.

"That man still loves you," she whispered. "I can see it in how he looks at you. How he talks about Golden."

I shook my head immediately. "You're wrong. Whatever we had is long dead."

"Is it?" Fatima's eyes searched mine. "Because from where I'm standing, you both look like you're drowning and reaching for each other even as you try to swim away."

"Fatima-"

"Just think about it." She squeezed my hand. "Life's too short for pride, Cecelia. Especially when a child's happiness is at

stake."

She left before I could respond, her words echoing in my head as Zeke and I made our way through the palace toward Layla's quarters. Guards flanked us on both sides,

a constant reminder that nowhere was truly safe anymore.

"What did they find?" I asked as we climbed the stairs.

"I don't know yet. The message just

said it was important."

Layla's quarters were in the east wing, a suite of rooms that had once been designated for the Luna's sister or close family. I'd never been inside them during my time here. Now guards stood at the door, their expressions grim.

Inside, investigators were carefully sorting through drawers and closets. One of them approached Zeke immediately, holding an evidence bag.

"We found this hidden in a false bottom of her jewelry box," the

investigator said.

Through the clear plastic, I could see a burner phone. The cheap kind you bought with cash and threw away after use.

"Have you accessed it?"

Zeke asked.

"Not yet. We wanted your authorization first." The investigator handed him the bag. "But there's something else."

She led us to Layla's desk where papers were spread out. Bank statements showing large cash withdrawals over the past two

months. Receipts from a private investigator. And most damning, a handwritten note with an address in neutral

territory and a date from three weeks ago.

My blood ran cold as I read the note. The date was two days before Golden went missing.

"Get this phone unlocked immediately," Zeke ordered. "I

want to know every call made, every text sent. And find out what this address is."

"Already on it, Alpha." The investigator gathered the evidence

carefully. "We should have answers within the hour."

Zeke dismissed everyone except the guards at the door. He stood in the middle of Layla's room, his jaw tight and his

hands clenched.

"I trusted her," he said finally. "After everything, after all the lies about Cameron, I still gave her the benefit of the doubt. I

thought grief and desperation made her lie, not malice."

"We don't know for sure she's involved," I said, though my words felt hollow even to me. The

evidence was damning.

"A burner phone. Cash withdrawals. Meetings in neutral territory right before Golden disappeared." Zeke's voice was

cold with fury. "It's her, Cecelia. She did this."

I wanted to argue but couldn't. The pieces fit too perfectly. Layla hiring someone to gather information about Golden.

Layla arranging the kidnapping. Layla trying to eliminate the threat to whatever future she'd imagined for herself and Cameron.

"If it's her, where would she take

him?" I asked. "Where would she hide a child?"

"That's what we're going to find out." Zeke pulled out his phone. "And when we do, there won't be anywhere in this world she can hide from what's coming."

The certainty in his voice should have comforted me.

Instead, it made me realize how dangerous this situation had become. We weren't just looking for Golden anymore. We were hunting someone who'd proven they were willing to kill to get what they wanted.

And my son was caught in the middle of it all.

Layla's POV

Cameron stood at my window, his small hands pressed against the glass, watching the guards patrol the courtyard below. He'd been quiet all morning, too quiet for a boy who

usually bounced off walls with energy.

"Mama, why is everyone talking about the ghost boy?"

I set down my teacup carefully, forcing my expression into something gentle. "What ghost boy,

sweetheart?"

"The one who looks like Papa." Cameron turned from the window, his blue eyes confused. "Sarah at the kitchens said Papa has another son. A ghost boy who came back from the dead with his dead mama."

My fingers tightened around the teacup handle until I thought it might snap. The staff were gossiping. Of course they were gossiping. Cecelia's return was the biggest scandal to hit the

pack in years.

"Come here, baby." I held out my arms and Cameron climbed into my

lap, his small body warm and solid against mine. Real. Mine. "That woman, Cecelia, she's not a ghost. She's Papa's old

mate from a long time ago."

"Before you?"

"Yes, before me." The lie tasted bitter but necessary. "She went away and now she's back, claiming she has a son."

"Does she?" Cameron's voice went small. "Does Papa have

another son?"

I could lie. I should lie. But Cameron was nearly four years old,

smart enough to piece together truth from the whispers around him. Better he heard it from me, shaped the way I

needed him to understand it.

"She says so," I said carefully. "But you're Papa's son, Cameron. You're the one he raised, the one he loves. That other boy, if he even exists, is just a stranger."

"But everyone keeps talking about him." Cameron's voice wobbled. "They say he's missing and Papa is looking for him. Papa never looks for me like that."

"That's because you're safe here with me." I stroked his hair, the same golden color as Zeke's even if the genetics didn't match. "This woman is trying to trick Papa. She wants to

take your place, make Papa forget about you."

Cameron's eyes widened. "She wants to replace me?"

"She wants to replace both of us." I let real fear bleed into my voice. "If Papa finds her son, if he believes that boy is

his, where does that leave you? Where does that leave me?"

"But Papa loves us." Cameron sounded less certain now. "He said he loves me."

"He does love you, baby. But this woman, she's dangerous. She's going to try to turn Papa against us." I tilted Cameron's chin up so he looked directly at me. "We have to be strong.

We have to show Papa that we're his real family, not some ghost from the past."

Cameron nodded slowly, processing this information the way children do, filtering it through their limited understanding of adult complexities. I could see the

jealousy taking root, the insecurity I'd carefully planted beginning to grow.

Good. Let him be confused and hurt. Let him act out. It would only prove my point that Cecelia's return was destroying the stability we'd built here.

"Can I go play now?" Cameron asked.

"Of course, sweetheart. But remember what I said. Be careful around that woman if you see her. She's not your friend."

Cameron climbed down from my

lap and ran out of the room, his little feet pounding against the hardwood floors. The moment he was gone, my gentle expression dropped.

They'd found the phone. The burner phone I'd been stupid enough to keep hidden in my jewelry box instead of destroying it. The investigators had torn through my quarters yesterday while I watched helplessly, unable to stop them

without admitting guilt.

I'd seen the evidence bags. The phone. The bank statements showing the cash withdrawals I'd

made to pay for information about Cecelia and her brat. The receipt from the private investigator I'd hired to track them

down in Seacreek.

It was only a matter of time before they unlocked the phone and saw the messages. The coordination with the woman I'd

hired to gather intelligence. The planning. The timeline of Golden's kidnapping.

I should run. Pack a bag and disappear before Zeke had me arrested. But where would I go?

I had no allies outside this pack, no resources beyond what Zeke

provided. And Cameron, I couldn't take Cameron without it looking like a kidnapping of my own.

My hands shook as I poured more tea, the liquid sloshing over the rim of the cup. Three years. I'd had three years of relative peace after Cecelia's death. Three years of being the

closest thing to Luna this pack had, of raising Cameron in the palace, of believing that eventually Zeke would forget about his dead mate and see what was right in front of him.

Then she came back. Rose from the grave like some avenging spirit

with her tragic story and her convenient son. And Zeke had looked at her the way he used to look at me, back before the

war destroyed everything between our families.

A knock at my door made me jump.

"What?"

One of the junior guards poked his head in. "Miss Layla, Master Cameron is in the south garden. He's upset and

asking for you."

I set down my teacup and smoothed my dress. "I'll be right there."

The south garden was one of Cameron's favorite places to play. It had a small fountain and flowering bushes that attracted butterflies in the summer. I found him there now, his face red and streaked with tears.

"Cameron, what's wrong?"

"She's mean," he sobbed. "She said I was being a brat."

I looked around and spotted Cecelia sitting on a bench near the rose bushes. She stood when she saw me, her expression weary.

"What did you do to my son?" I

demanded, moving to Cameron and pulling him against my side.

"I didn't do anything to him." Cecelia's voice was calm but I heard the edge underneath. "He threw rocks at the fountain

and splashed water all over my clothes. When I asked him to stop, he called me names."

"He's a child," I snapped. "What did you expect?

You show up here claiming to be his father's true mate, flaunting your supposed son, making Cameron feel unwanted in his own home."