I woke alone in our bed, the sheets beside me cold and undisturbed. The digital clock on the nightstand read 6:17 AM—Nash's birthday. I'd set my alarm early to prepare his favorite breakfast before he woke. Joseph hadn't come home last night.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains as I slipped from beneath the covers, my bare feet touching the plush carpet. The Alpha suite felt hollow without him. I'd grown accustomed to his absence, but today of all days...

"He'll be here," I whispered to myself, though my wolf whined in disagreement. She knew better. She always knew.

I dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a silver blouse—the color of our pack—and pulled my hair into a loose braid. Downstairs, I found Elena, our pack healer, already in the kitchen preparing Nash's birthday breakfast.

"Luna Sophia," she greeted me with a gentle smile. "I thought you might need help this morning."

"Thank you," I said, grateful for her thoughtfulness. "Nash specifically requested pancakes with blueberries and honey."

"Already on the menu," Elena assured me, her eyes holding a sympathy I didn't want to acknowledge.

I heard the front door open and close, followed by heavy footsteps. Joseph. My wolf perked up, eager despite everything.

"There's my birthday boy!" Joseph's voice boomed from the hallway. I stepped into the entryway to find him kneeling before Nash, who was still in his pajamas.

"Dad!" Nash squealed, launching himself into Joseph's arms. "Are we going to have cake later?"

"Of course we are, champ," Joseph replied, ruffling Nash's hair. His eyes met mine over our son's head. "Morning, Soph."

Something in me tightened as he approached. It wasn't until he leaned in to kiss my cheek that I caught it—a cloying, floral scent that didn't belong to him. To us.

Carla's perfume.

My wolf snarled, hackles raised. Joseph straightened, oblivious to my reaction.

"I need to shower," he announced. "Been on patrol all night."

"Patrol," I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.

Two hours later, while Joseph showered, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. I shouldn't look. I knew I shouldn't. But something drove me forward.

One swipe revealed dozens of messages between him and Carla.

*Thank you for being here last night. Talon finally fell asleep.*

*Anytime. You know that.*

*You're the father he needs.*

My hands trembled as I scrolled upward. Hours of messages exchanged during the time he claimed to be patrolling our territory.

"Mom! Everyone's here!" Nash burst into the room, his face glowing with excitement. "Can we cut the cake now?"

---

The Pack House glowed with silver and blue decorations. Pack members filled every corner, their faces warm with genuine happiness for Nash's special day. I'd spent hours ensuring everything was perfect—a small compensation for the father who was increasingly absent.

Nash sat in the center of it all, his eyes wide as Marcus brought out the cake. Five candles flickered, casting golden light across his hopeful face.

"Make a wish, little Alpha," Marcus encouraged.

Nash squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating intensely before blowing with all his might. The candles extinguished in a shower of sparks.

"Perfect!" I exclaimed, my heart bursting with pride despite everything.

That's when I felt it—the shift in energy. Joseph's posture stiffened beside me. His eyes unfocused slightly—the telltale sign of receiving a mind-link.

"Alpha?" I questioned quietly.

His face paled. "It's Carla. Talon's shifting early. He's in pain."

My grip tightened on his arm. "He's too young to shift."

"It's happening," Joseph insisted, already stepping back. "I need to go."

"No," I hissed. "Today is Nash's birthday. The entire pack is here."

But Joseph wasn't listening. He addressed the room with practiced authority. "There's a medical emergency with one of our pups. Please continue celebrating. I'll return as soon as possible."

Before I could protest further, he was gone, leaving Nash staring after him with confusion that quickly morphed into understanding beyond his years.

"Dad has to help someone else," he said quietly, picking up his fork. "That's okay."

The pack murmured sympathetically, but their eyes held questions. Questions I couldn't answer.

---

It was past midnight when Joseph returned. I sat in the guest room, a small suitcase open on the bed beside me.

"You're back," I said flatly.

"Talon was just feverish," he admitted, running a hand through his damp hair. "Not shifting."

"I figured."

"Sophia, don't start—"

"Three chances," I interrupted, my voice eerily calm even to my own ears. "You have three chances to prove you're the Alpha of this family, not Carla's surrogate."

Joseph laughed—actually laughed. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the mate bond," I said, standing to face him. "The sacred bond you've been systematically destroying. Three strikes, Joseph. That's all you get."

He rolled his eyes. "Always so dramatic."

"This isn't drama," I replied, zipping the suitcase closed. "This is your last warning."

As I brushed past him toward the door, I caught the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Too little, too late.

The morning sun filtered through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow over the breakfast table. Joseph had actually made an effort—pancakes stacked high, fresh berries scattered across the plate, and maple syrup warming in a small pitcher. Nash bounced in his chair, his eyes bright with excitement.

"This looks amazing, Dad!" he exclaimed, reaching for his fork.

Joseph smiled, ruffling Nash's hair. "Only the best for my birthday boy."

I watched them from the coffee maker, my wolf stirring uneasily despite the domestic tranquility. For once, Joseph seemed present—really present. Maybe yesterday's warning had penetrated his thick skull after all.

"Mom, can I have some orange juice?" Nash asked, his legs swinging beneath the table.

"Coming right up," I replied, pouring the juice into his favorite cup—the one with silver wolves racing across the rim.

Joseph caught my eye and offered a tentative smile. "About last night—"

The doorbell rang, sharp and insistent.

"I'll get it," Joseph said, already moving toward the door.

My wolf growled low in my chest. The scent hit me before I saw her—Carla's cloying floral perfume, now masked with something herbal. Scent masking. She was deliberately hiding her anxiety-inducing pheromones.

"Alpha," she gasped, her voice trembling perfectly. "I'm so sorry to intrude, but Talon was just crying for you."

Sure enough, Talon stood behind her, his eyes wide and innocent. "Uncle Alpha, I had a bad dream."

Joseph's face softened instantly. "Come in, come in. You'll have breakfast with us."

I stepped forward. "Joseph, we were having family time."

Carla's eyes welled with tears. "I understand completely, Luna. We'll just... we'll go."

The pathetic tremor in her voice made my stomach turn. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Nonsense," Joseph insisted, his hand already on her shoulder. "You're part of this pack. Sit down."

Nash's fork clattered against his plate. "But Dad, you said—"

"Plenty for everyone," Joseph interrupted, pulling out chairs for Carla and Talon.

I watched as our family breakfast crumbled before my eyes.

---

"The perimeter drive will be fun," Joseph promised later that morning, keys jingling in his hand. "Nash can sit up front with me."

Nash's face lit up. "Really? In the front seat?"

"Absolutely," Joseph confirmed, opening the passenger door. "My special co-pilot."

I bit back a smile, watching my son scramble into the front seat of Joseph's SUV. Maybe this was his way of making amends.

"Ready to inspect our territory, buddy?" Joseph asked, adjusting the rearview mirror.

"Ready, Alpha!" Nash replied enthusiastically.

That's when Carla appeared again, this time clutching a piece of paper. "Alpha, I... I found this outside my door."

Joseph took the note, his expression darkening as he read it. "A threat?"

"I don't feel safe," Carla whispered, hugging Talon close. "Could we... could we come with you? Just until Marcus checks our cabin?"

I rolled my eyes. "Carla, we're doing a family—"

"We can't leave them unprotected," Joseph interrupted, already opening the back door. "Sophia, you'll need to move."

"What? No, Joseph—"

"Please," he said, his tone firming. "Carla needs protection."

I stared at him in disbelief. "And what about your Luna and Heir?"

"You'll be fine," he insisted. "Nash, buddy, let Carla sit up front. She's scared."

Nash's face fell as he climbed out of the front seat. I opened my mouth to protest, but Joseph was already helping Carla into the passenger seat.

"Talon can sit with Nash," Joseph said, settling Talon in the back row.

I slid into the back seat beside my son, my jaw clenched. "This isn't right, Joseph."

"He'll be okay," Joseph replied dismissively. "Buckle up."

---

The forest blurred past as we drove along the perimeter road. Nash had fallen silent beside me, his earlier excitement replaced by a quiet dignity that broke my heart.

"Look at the size of that oak," Joseph pointed out, attempting normalcy. "Must be three hundred years old."

Carla laughed softly. "You know so much about the territory."

"Alpha's job," Joseph replied proudly.

That's when it happened. A blur of movement on the road ahead—a massive rogue wolf lunging from the treeline.

"Watch out!" I screamed.

Joseph slammed on the brakes. The SUV skidded, tires squealing against asphalt.

Instinctively, Joseph's Alpha protective aura flared—a brilliant gold shield that should have enveloped his mate and heir.

Instead, it wrapped around Talon.

The force of the stop threw Nash against the door frame. I heard the sickening crack before I saw the blood.

"Nash!" I cried, pulling him into my arms.

His forehead was split open, blood streaming down his face. His eyes were wide with shock.

"It hurts, Mommy," he whimpered.

I looked up to see Joseph staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He hadn't even turned to check on his son.

"Joseph," I said, my voice deadly quiet. "Your heir is bleeding."

He finally turned, his eyes widening at the sight of Nash's injury. "I... I didn't..."

"You protected the wrong pup," I said, each word precise and cutting.

The first strike had fallen.

The antiseptic smell of the pack infirmary burned my nostrils as I held Nash's trembling body against mine. Elena worked with practiced hands, her fingers gentle as she stitched the gash on my son's forehead.

"Almost done, little Alpha," she murmured, her eyes filled with a compassion that made my chest tighten. "You're being so brave."

Nash didn't cry. He hadn't cried since the accident. His silence worried me more than tears would have.

"Where's Dad?" he finally asked, his voice small.

I swallowed hard. "He's... checking on Talon."

Elena's hands stilled for just a moment—a telling pause that spoke volumes. She'd been in the pack long enough to understand what was happening.

"Luna," she said quietly, "this needs to stop."

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

When Elena finished, I helped Nash down from the examination table. His knees buckled slightly, and I caught him, my heart breaking at how light he felt in my arms.

"Let's find your father," I said, though the words tasted like ash.

We found them in the waiting area. Joseph sat in one of the comfortable chairs, Talon perched on his lap. The boy looked perfectly fine—not a scratch on him—yet Joseph was whispering comforts into his hair.

"It's okay, buddy. You're safe now," he murmured, his large hand cradling the back of Talon's head.

Carla sat beside them, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. When she saw us, her lips curved into a smirk so quick I almost missed it.

"There you are," Joseph said, looking up. "How is he?"

"Seven stitches," I replied coldly. "How is Talon?"

Joseph's brow furrowed. "He's shaken up. The accident was traumatic."

"Nash has a concussion," I said, my voice rising despite my efforts to control it. "He hit his head hard enough to lose consciousness."

"Mom," Nash tugged at my hand. "Can we go home?"

I nodded, but before we could leave, I grabbed Joseph's arm and dragged him into the hallway.

"What the hell was that?" I hissed once we were alone.

"What was what?" he asked, confusion crossing his features.

"You protected Talon instead of Nash!"

Joseph ran a hand through his hair. "Talon is weaker, Sophia. He needed protection."

"And Nash didn't?" My voice cracked. "He's your son! Your heir!"

"Nash is a born Alpha," Joseph replied, his tone maddeningly reasonable. "He can take a hit. Talon can't."

I stared at him, truly seeing him for the first time. "You rewired your biological instincts for another woman's child."

"It's not like that—"

"It's exactly like that," I cut him off. "You failed your son today."

From the doorway behind us came a small sound. I turned to see Nash standing there, his bandaged head tilted slightly as he listened.

"Dad thinks I'm strong enough to get hurt," he said quietly.

"Nash—" Joseph started forward.

My son turned his face to the wall. "I'm tired, Mom."

Later that evening, as I tucked Nash into bed, he looked up at me with solemn eyes.

"Is Dad mad at me?"

"No, sweetheart." I smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "He's just... confused."

"Because I'm not Talon?"

The innocence in his voice broke something inside me. "No, baby. Because he's forgotten what matters."

---

The next morning, Joseph cornered me in the kitchen, his expression determined.

"I've made arrangements," he announced. "We're going to Le Lune tonight."

I raised an eyebrow. "The French place downtown?"

He nodded eagerly. "Just the three of us. No pack business, no interruptions."

"A restaurant? That's your solution?"

"It's more than that," he insisted. "I've reserved the private dining room. We'll have a proper family dinner, just like Nash wanted."

I crossed my arms. "And Carla?"

His expression faltered for just a moment. "What about her?"

"You're not inviting her too?"

"Of course not," he said quickly. "This is about us. About making things right."

I studied his face, searching for sincerity and finding only desperation. "Fine."

"Really?" Relief flooded his features. "I'll make sure Marcus handles any pack business tonight."

"And no Carla," I reiterated firmly.

"Absolutely no Carla," he agreed, though something flickered in his eyes—something that made my wolf growl in warning.

As he walked away, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking into another trap. But for Nash's sake, I had to try.

My phone buzzed with a text from Marcus: *Healer says Nash's concussion is worse than expected. Keeping him overnight for observation.*

I looked up to see Joseph typing furiously on his phone, a small smile playing at his lips.

*Who are you texting, Joseph?* I wondered. *And why do I smell Carla's perfume again?*

The second strike was coming, and somehow, I knew it would be even worse than the first.