The mahogany gleamed under my cloth, each swirl revealing the wood's natural grain. Gideon's private study was the last room on my cleaning rotation—a task I'd volunteered for, desperate to feel useful in some small way. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with leather and pine still made my chest tighten, even after everything.

I moved methodically, dusting the bookshelves filled with pack histories and territorial maps. My fingers traced the spine of an old photo album tucked between two volumes. Inside were pictures of better days—our mating ceremony, my Luna coronation, Oliver's first steps in the memorial grove.

A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I shoved the album back into place.

As I bent to retrieve a fallen pen from beneath the desk, Gideon's voice suddenly filled the room. Not from the doorway, but from everywhere at once—the distinctive echo of an active mind-link left carelessly open.

"—appointment is confirmed for next Thursday." His tone was cold, clinical. Nothing like the broken man who'd spoken to me just hours ago.

I froze, my hand still reaching for the pen.

"The Council bought it completely," Marcus's voice responded through the link, tinged with something I couldn't quite identify. Guilt? "Especially after... after what happened with Oliver."

My blood turned to ice.

"His death was unfortunate but necessary." Gideon's words sliced through me like shards of glass. "The timing couldn't have been more perfect. A grieving Alpha who lost both his wolf and his heir? The sympathy vote was unanimous. Even Alpha Thorne couldn't argue against my appointment after that display."

"Still, watching it happen—" Marcus started.

"You did what was required, Marcus. The rogues played their part perfectly. No one suspects the truth."

The pen slipped from my numb fingers, clattering against the hardwood floor. But neither voice paused. The mind-link continued, oblivious to my presence.

"Three years of this charade," Gideon continued, and I heard the smile in his voice. "Three years of suppressing my wolf, watching Katherine grovel and scrub floors like a common Omega. But it worked. The Alpha King position is mine. By next week, I'll miraculously 'recover' my wolf, and no one will question it. They'll see it as the Moon Goddess rewarding my perseverance."

"And Katherine?"

There was a long pause. When Gideon spoke again, his voice held a note of irritation. "She served her purpose. Her white wolf bloodline legitimized my claim, and her degradation reinforced my supposed weakness. Once I'm officially crowned, I'll decide what to do with her. Carla's been patient enough."

The room spun. I gripped the edge of the desk, my knuckles white as bone. This couldn't be real. This had to be a nightmare, a cruel trick of my exhausted mind.

"Gideon." Marcus's voice carried a warning. "Your link is still open."

The connection severed abruptly, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

I stumbled backward, my legs barely supporting me. Three years. Three years of believing, of enduring, of defending him to anyone who questioned his leadership. Three years of accepting my reduction to Omega status because I thought we were surviving together.

And Oliver—

My knees hit the floor. A keening sound escaped my throat, raw and animalistic.

*Lyra?* I reached desperately for my wolf. *Please, tell me you didn't know. Tell me this is a lie.*

She stirred, and for the first time in months, I felt her full presence. But with it came a crushing wave of anguish.

*I knew,* she whispered, her voice broken. *Katherine, I've always known. His wolf—it never left. I could sense it, feel it prowling just beneath the surface. But something... something blocked me from telling you. Every time I tried, it was like hitting a wall in our mind.*

My hands shook as I pressed them against the cold floor. "How?" The word came out as barely a whisper.

*Dark magic, maybe. Or an Alpha command so deeply embedded even I couldn't break it. He's been playing us from the beginning.*

The truth crashed over me in waves. Every humiliation, every pitying look, every night I'd cried myself to sleep worried about my broken mate—all of it had been orchestrated. And Oliver, our beautiful boy with his father's eyes and my gentle heart, had been nothing more than a political sacrifice.

I stayed there on the study floor, surrounded by the evidence of Gideon's carefully constructed life, as everything I'd believed crumbled into ash.

The medical supply closet smelled of antiseptic and dried herbs. I counted the vials of wolfsbane extract with practiced efficiency, cataloging each item in my mental inventory. Three bottles of healing salve. Two packets of silver nitrate for emergency wounds. One small blade, sharp enough to cut through rope—or flesh, if necessary.

"Just organizing the healer's supplies," I murmured to myself, practicing the lie I'd tell if anyone caught me. My hands moved steadily, but my mind raced through border patrol schedules I'd memorized over the past week.

Tuesdays: Eastern border, six guards, rotation at midnight.

Thursdays: Northern pass, four guards, blind spot near the old oak grove between two and three AM.

Saturday: The memorial grounds, completely unguarded—too sacred for patrol routes.

I slipped a small vial of scent masker into my apron pocket. The weight of it felt like carrying a loaded gun.

*We could run tonight,* Lyra whispered urgently. *The northern pass—*

*Not yet,* I replied, forcing my breathing to remain steady. *He'll sense any sudden change through the mate bond. We have to wait until he's distracted.*

The pack meeting announcement echoed through the hallways, Marcus's voice commanding attendance. Perfect timing. I closed the supply closet and made my way to the great hall, my bucket and cleaning supplies in hand—my shield of invisibility.

The hall buzzed with excitement. Pack members filled the rows of chairs while I took my position along the wall with the other Omegas, ready to serve refreshments. My eyes found Gideon immediately. He stood at the podium, his shoulders broad, his presence commanding despite his supposed weakness.

"Brothers and sisters of Silver Moon," he began, his voice carrying that perfect note of humility mixed with determination. "Three years ago, I lost my wolf in service to this pack. Many thought I should step down, that a wolfless Alpha could never lead."

Murmurs of sympathy rippled through the crowd. Sarah, the Delta's daughter who'd stepped over me this morning, actually dabbed at her eyes.

"But you stood by me," Gideon continued, his gaze sweeping the room. "You believed that strength comes not just from our wolves, but from our unity, our determination, our refusal to surrender."

I moved mechanically, pouring wine into crystal glasses, the burgundy liquid reminding me sickeningly of blood.

"Today, I stand before you with news that validates your faith." His voice rose with triumph. "The Council of Alphas has unanimously appointed me as Alpha King of the united territories."

The room erupted. Cheers, howls of celebration, pack members embracing. I continued pouring, my hands steady even as my heart shattered with each word.

"This is not just my victory," Gideon proclaimed, raising his hands for silence. "This belongs to every member of Silver Moon who endured these difficult years. To Beta Marcus, whose loyalty never wavered." Marcus stood, accepting the applause with a tight smile. "To our warriors who protected us despite having a weakened Alpha."

More cheers. I reached for another bottle, the motion automatic.

"And yes," Gideon's voice softened, "to those who sacrificed the most. To the memory of my son, Oliver, whose loss reminded us that even in our darkest moments, we must persevere."

The wine bottle slipped slightly in my grip. I caught it before anyone noticed, but inside, Lyra snarled with rage.

*He dares speak Oliver's name?*

*Steady,* I told her, though my own fury threatened to consume me. *We can't show anything. Not yet.*

Carla Brooks rose from her seat in the front row, gliding toward Gideon with practiced grace. She wore a silver dress that caught the light—a future Luna's dress. She placed her hand on his arm, a gesture of public claim, and my stomach turned.

"The coronation ceremony will take place next week," Gideon announced, Carla beaming beside him. "Representatives from all territories will attend. Silver Moon will show them what true strength looks like."

As the crowd surged forward to congratulate their Alpha, I retreated to the serving station. My hands moved automatically, refilling platters, replacing empty bottles. Each task a small anchor keeping me from drowning in the tsunami of rage and grief threatening to pull me under.

"Omega." Carla's voice cut through my focus. She stood before me, her empty glass extended. "More wine."

I met her eyes as I poured, searching for any sign she knew the truth. But her gaze held only dismissive superiority, the look of someone who'd won a game her opponent didn't know they were playing.

"Congratulations on the Alpha King appointment," I said quietly, my voice perfectly neutral.

"Thank you." She studied me for a moment, her lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Some of us were born for greatness. Others... well, they serve their purpose in different ways."

She walked away, leaving me holding the wine bottle, its weight suddenly unbearable. Around me, the celebration continued—a feast built on lies, a crown earned with blood.

My son's blood.

I set down the bottle carefully, deliberately, and returned to my place against the wall. Let them celebrate. Let Gideon bask in his false triumph.

Soon, very soon, I would disappear like smoke in the wind. And he would learn what it truly meant to lose everything.