Alvera POV

"Fix it?" I repeated, my voice trembling not with fear, but with a sudden, cold fury that rose from the pit of my stomach.

I shoved Gina's hand off my arm. The force of it surprised her, and she stumbled back a step, her heels clicking sharply against the linoleum floor.

"Let's get one thing straight, Gina," I said, stepping into her personal space. I might be wolfless, I might be an Omega in the eyes of the Pack, but I had spent three years managing the most powerful Alpha in the region. I knew how to wield authority, even if I couldn't growl it. "I don't get paid for warming anyone's bed. I get paid because I am the only one competent enough to run this administration without burning it to the ground."

Gina's eyes narrowed, her mouth opening to retort, but I cut her off.

"And if you think shouting about my private life in the hallway is going to get Jarred a better house, think again. One word to the Resource Allocation Committee about your 'misuse' of the current housing allowance, and I can have you all moved to the barracks on the perimeter. Do you want to explain to my brother why he's sleeping in a bunk bed because you couldn't keep your mouth shut?"

The color drained from Gina's face. The perimeter barracks were notorious—drafty, cramped, and dangerously close to the Rogue lands.

"You wouldn't," she hissed, though the uncertainty in her eyes betrayed her.

"Try me," I whispered.

Gina glared at me, her chest heaving. Then, her eyes glazed over. The tell-tale sign of a *Mind-Link*. She was talking to someone—Jarred, undoubtedly. I couldn't hear their mental conversation, a constant reminder of my defect, but the malice radiating from her was loud enough.

"This isn't over, Alvera," she spat, spinning around and storming off into the shadows.

I leaned back against the cold metal of the filing cabinet, exhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding. My hands were shaking. It was a temporary victory. The walls were closing in, and the wolves were circling.

*

By evening, the headache pounding behind my temples was rivaling the dull ache in my chest. I was at my desk, trying to focus on the quarterly budget, when the air suddenly thickened with that cloying, synthetic sakura scent.

"Brennan, darling," a voice purred, dripping with false sweetness.

I looked up. Kassie was leaning against the doorframe of Brennan's office, her hand resting possessively on the wood. Brennan stood behind her, shrugging on his suit jacket. His face was impassive, his golden eyes sweeping over the office before landing on me.

"You can't work your little wolfless assistant to the bone," Kassie continued, turning her smile toward me. It didn't reach her eyes. "Let her go home. *We* have plans. Dinner at The Obsidian."

The Obsidian. It was the most exclusive restaurant in the territory, a place Brennan had taken me only once, under the cover of darkness, entering through the back door.

Brennan adjusted his cuffs, his gaze lingering on me for a second too long. "Kassie is right. Go home, Miss Dalton. Finish the reports tomorrow."

"Miss Dalton." The formality was a blade between my ribs.

"Thank you, Alpha. Miss Warren," I said, my voice flat. I began packing my bag, my movements mechanical.

"See? He's not a tyrant," Kassie giggled, linking her arm through his. She practically dragged him toward the elevator, her body pressed tight against his side.

I watched them leave. The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the sight of her hand on his bicep. The silence they left behind was suffocating. With the Severance Declaration sitting in the legal draft folder on my computer, I knew my time was running out. Once he signed that, once he marked her... I would be nothing. Just an employee he could fire.

And if I lost this job, I lost everything.

*

The Pack Infirmary was quiet, the air sterile and sharp with antiseptic. I found Dr. Elian Vance in his office, studying a holographic chart. He looked up as I entered, his expression grave.

"Alvera," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "I'm glad you came."

"Is it Mom?" I asked, gripping the back of the chair. "Is she worse?"

"Her condition is... stabilizing, but the degradation of her cells is accelerating," Dr. Vance sighed, rubbing his temples. "However, there is a new protocol. A purification ritual involving Moonflowers harvested from the Silver Creek territory. Combined with our current therapy, it could extend her life by five years. Maybe more."

Hope, bright and painful, flared in my chest. "Five years? Elian, that's... that's a miracle. When can we start?"

He hesitated. "The Moonflowers are rare. We have to import them. The cost is double the current regimen, Alvera. And because it's an external import, it requires direct authorization from the Alpha to release funds from the Pack Treasury."

The hope died instantly, replaced by cold dread.

Double the cost. Alpha authorization.

How could I ask Brennan for this now? With Kassie hanging off his arm, auditing his schedule, and the rejection looming?

"I... I need a few days," I managed to say, my throat dry.

"Don't wait too long," Elian warned gently.

I walked out of his office like a ghost. I went to Room 304. My mother, Ruby, was awake, staring out the window at the training grounds. She looked so frail, her skin translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Earlier, the bed next to hers had been occupied by Old Man Miller. Now, it was empty, the sheets stripped. He had passed this afternoon because his family couldn't afford the advanced healers.

"Alvera," Mom whispered, turning her head. Her eyes were wet. "I saw Mr. Miller go. He looked peaceful."

"Mom, don't," I said, sitting on the edge of her bed and taking her cold hand.

"It's too much, baby," she said, her voice cracking. "The money. The stress. I see it on your face. You're working yourself to death for a dying woman. Just... let me go. Save your money. Take care of Dulce."

Something inside me snapped. The fear, the humiliation from Kassie, the threat from Gina—it all boiled over into a desperate, hard protective instinct.

"Stop it," I said, my voice harsh, cutting through the room.

Mom blinked, startled.

"I don't care about Dulce," I lied, squeezing her hand tight enough to hurt. "I don't have a blood obligation to her. I do this for *you*. You are the only thing I have in this world. If you give up, if you dare talk about leaving me, I will walk out that door and I won't come back."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Alvera..."

"Promise me," I demanded, my eyes burning but dry. "You fight. You take the treatment. Or you lose me right now."

It was cruel. It was necessary.

She nodded slowly, sobbing quietly. "I promise. I'll fight."

I stayed until she fell asleep, listening to the steady beep of the monitor. I had bought her time, but I had no idea how to pay for it. As I looked at her sleeping face, I knew one thing for certain: I would beg, steal, or shatter my own heart to keep that monitor beeping. Even if it meant facing Brennan and his new Luna tomorrow.

Alvera POV

The morning light filtering through the infirmary blinds was gray and unforgiving, much like the future stretching out before me. It had been three days since Kassie Warren returned, and the silence from the Alpha's office was deafening.

"Alvera," Mom whispered, her grip on my hand weak but insistent. "You can't keep doing this. Waiting for a ghost."

I stiffened. I knew where this was going.

"It's been six years since the rejection, baby," she continued, her voice trembling with a mother's desperate love. "He made his choice. You need to find someone else. Even a Beta... or a kind human. Just someone to protect you when I'm gone."

My chest tightened. The memory of that night—the rain, the agony of the bond snapping before it could fully form—threatened to surface. "Mom, please—"

"Morning, sunshine! And morning to the best patient in the ward!"

The door swung open, and Dulce breezed in, balancing a tray of oatmeal and fruit. My stepsister was a burst of chaotic energy in the sterile room, her brown hair tied back in a messy bun that smelled of yeast and vanilla from the Pack kitchens. Unlike me, she had a wolf, though a dormant one, which kept her blissfully ignorant of the crushing weight of Pack politics.

"Dulce," I exhaled, relief washing over me.

"Don't look at me like that, Vera. The Head Cook almost took my hand off for snagging extra berries," she winked, setting the tray down and effectively cutting off Mom's lecture. "Eat up, Ruby. I need you strong enough to critique my soufflé later."

Mom smiled, the tension breaking. I squeezed Dulce's shoulder in silent gratitude, grabbed a piece of toast, and fled before the conversation could circle back to my nonexistent love life.

*

The elevator ride to the penthouse was usually my time to armor myself. Today, it felt like a cage.

Dulce had insisted on walking me to the lobby. As the doors slid open, she grabbed my arm, her playful demeanor vanishing.

"Vera," she said, her voice dropping to a hush. "You need to know. The kitchen staff... they're talking."

"They're always talking, Dulce."

"Not like this." She bit her lip, her eyes wide with pity. "They say Brennan and Kassie had dinner at The Obsidian last night, and then... they came back here. Together. To his private quarters. She didn't leave until an hour ago."

The toast in my stomach turned to lead. It was one thing to suspect it; it was another to have it broadcasted to the entire Pack. My sacrifice—warming his bed in secret, enduring his coldness to pay for Mom's treatment—suddenly felt cheap. Dirty.

"I have to go to work," I said, my voice brittle.

"Vera..."

"I'm fine."

I wasn't.

I stepped out onto the top floor and keyed the code into the Alpha's private residence. The heavy door clicked open, and immediately, I was assaulted.

*Sakura.*

The air was thick with it—synthetic, cloying cherry blossoms. It was Kassie's scent, and it was everywhere, choking out the crisp, winter scent of Cedar and Blizzard that usually defined Brennan's space.

I walked into the living area, my eyes stinging. And there they were. A pair of delicate, red-soled stilettos kicked haphazardly next to Brennan's heavy combat boots by the door.

A visual confirmation of my replacement.

Brennan was in the kitchen, drinking black coffee. He was shirtless, his low-slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. The sight of his scarred, muscular back usually made my mouth go dry. Today, it just made me want to vomit.

He turned as I entered, his golden eyes narrowing.

"Alpha," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "The Pack is buzzing. Do you need me to arrange a security detail to escort Miss Warren out unnoticed?"

Brennan set his mug down with a sharp *clack*. He stalked toward me, his massive frame blocking out the light. He stopped inches from me, inhaling deeply, his nose flaring.

"She's not here," he growled.

I blinked, glancing at the shoes by the door. "Her shoes are—"

"I said," his voice dropped an octave, vibrating in my chest, "she is not here."

He offered no explanation. No denial of the night before, just a flat refusal of her current presence. The gaslighting made my head spin.

"Fine," I whispered. "I'll prepare the meeting briefs."

I turned to leave, but he caught my arm. His grip was hot, searing through my blouse. He pulled me closer, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I froze, my heart hammering a traitorous rhythm against my ribs.

Then, he pulled back, his face twisted in a snarl.

"You stink," he spat.

I recoiled as if slapped. "Excuse me?"

"The Infirmary. Antiseptic and sickness. It's disgusting," he said, his upper lip curling. "It's all over you. It's making my wolf pace."

"I was visiting my dying mother, Brennan," I snapped, the hurt finally bleeding through.

"I don't care," he said, his tone icy and final. He pointed toward his office door. "Go wash. Now. There are spare clothes in the en-suite. Do not come near me smelling like death again."

It wasn't a request. It was a command, bordering on the use of his Alpha voice.

Humiliation burned my cheeks. He had spent the night rolling in Kassie's perfume, yet he couldn't stand the scent of my reality? I marched into his office bathroom, slamming the door with as much force as I dared.

Twenty minutes later, I emerged, scrubbed raw and wearing one of his oversized hoodies that hung to my mid-thigh. I smelled like him now—Cedar and soap.

I hadn't even made it to my desk when the elevator doors dinged.

Kristopher Warren stormed out, his Gamma aura rolling off him in waves of aggressive Fir needle scent. He was a tank of a man, with the same dark hair as his sister but none of the softness. Kassie trailed behind him, looking flustered.

"Where is he?" Kristopher barked, ignoring me completely.

"Kristopher, please, you're overreacting!" Kassie pleaded, grabbing his arm.

"Overreacting? He parades you around The Obsidian, lets the rumors fly that the Warren Pack is in his pocket, and then refuses to formalize the alliance?" Kristopher shook her off. "He's playing politics with your reputation, Kassie."

He slammed his fist against Brennan's office door. "Dawson! Open up!"

The door swung open. Brennan stood there, fully dressed now, radiating lethal calm. "Gamma Warren. If you damage my property, I will bill your Alpha."

"We need to talk," Kristopher snarled, pushing past him into the office.

The door clicked shut, muffling the sudden explosion of shouting.

I sat at my desk, trying to make myself invisible. Kassie stood by the door, wringing her hands. She looked at me, her eyes darting over the oversized hoodie I was wearing. Recognition flickered in her gaze—she knew who that hoodie belonged to.

"You," she said, stepping closer. Her voice was tight. "You're in there with him all day. You manage his life."

"I'm just his assistant, Miss Warren," I said, keeping my eyes on my screen.

"My brother is going to tear him apart if he thinks Brennan is stringing me along," she hissed, leaning over my desk. The smell of Sakura was suffocating again. "Help me. Go in there. Calm them down."

"I am a wolfless Omega, Miss Warren," I said quietly. "I have no place in a room with two dominant males."

Kassie stared at me, her eyes narrowing. She looked at the hoodie again, then at my face, searching for something.

"You've been by his side for three years," she whispered, her voice dropping to a dangerous, conspiratorial level. "You must know everything."

She leaned in closer, her breath fanning across my face.

"Tell me, Alvera. Do you know who his Fated Mate is?"

My heart stopped. The air in the room seemed to vanish, leaving me staring into the eyes of the woman who wanted to take the place that nature had designed for me.

Alvera POV

"Do you know who his Fated Mate is?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, like smoke in a burning room. Kassie's eyes bore into mine, searching for a crack in my armor. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage, but I forced my face to remain a mask of dull, Omega subservience.

"I am just an assistant, Miss Warren," I replied, my voice steady despite the tremors in my hands. "The Alpha's private affairs, especially regarding the Moon Goddess's will, are far above my station."

Kassie straightened, frustration marring her perfect features. "It doesn't make sense. If he rejected her six years ago, why hasn't he filed the Severance Declaration with the Council? It's just paperwork. Unless..." She tapped a manicured fingernail against her chin. "Unless he's hesitating."

"Kassie!"

The boom of Kristopher's voice made us both jump. The Gamma strode out of Brennan's office, the door clicking shut behind him. His scent—sharp, aggressive Fir needle—rolled over us, instantly silencing his sister.

He stopped at my desk, his imposing bulk casting a shadow over me. He didn't look at Kassie; he looked at me, his gaze dissecting.

"You will see a lot more of my sister around here," Kristopher said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Ensure she is accommodated. And ensure you remember your place, Omega. The Warren Pack does not tolerate loose ends."

He turned to Kassie, his eyes flashing with a silent, telepathic command. I saw Kassie flinch, her pupils dilating as she received the *Mind-Link*. She looked down, chastised like a puppy.

"Let's go," Kristopher grunted.

As they left, Kassie shot me one last look—not of suspicion, but of determination. She wasn't done.

*

By five o'clock, my stomach was in knots. Kassie had called me three times, her voice shifting from pleading to threatening. She had set up a "welcome home" surprise at The Silver Moon Lounge and needed Brennan there.

"Help me, Alvera," she had hissed over the phone. "It's the only way he'll see that I'm what's best for him, for the Pack. If you don't get him there, I'll make sure Brennan knows about your little 'chats' with the kitchen staff."

It was a bluff, but I couldn't risk her digging deeper.

I knocked on the Alpha's door. "Enter."

Brennan was reviewing files, his brow furrowed. He looked up, his golden eyes tired.

"Alpha," I lied, the taste of it bitter on my tongue. "We have a situation. Elder Thorne from the Northern Pack requested an urgent meet. He's waiting at The Silver Moon Lounge."

Brennan sighed, rubbing his temples. "Thorne? Now? Fine. Drive me."

The drive was silent. Guilt gnawed at me with every mile. I was leading him into a trap, delivering him to the woman who wanted to replace me, all to protect a secret that was already killing me.

When we arrived at the Lounge, the hostess led us not to a conference room, but to the private "Luna Suite."

I opened the door, and the scent hit us instantly—synthetic *Sakura* and expensive champagne. The room was dim, lit by hundreds of candles. Rose petals covered the floor.

"Surprise!"

Kassie stepped forward, wearing a dress that left nothing to the imagination. Behind her, Desmond, Brennan's Beta, raised a glass, grinning like a fool.

Brennan didn't move. He didn't smile.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. The scent of Cedar and Blizzard exploded from him, turning sharp and biting. He didn't look at Kassie. He turned slowly, his lethal gaze locking onto me.

"Elder Thorne?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

I lowered my head, unable to meet his eyes. "I... I was instructed to ensure your arrival, Alpha."

"You lied to me." It wasn't a question. It was an indictment.

"Brennan, don't be mad at her!" Kassie chirped, oblivious to the violence radiating off him. She looped her arm through his stiff elbow. "I told her to. I wanted to celebrate us!"

Brennan pulled his arm away, his movements jerky. "There is no 'us' to celebrate yet, Kassie."

The rejection was brutal in its public nature. Kassie's smile faltered. The tension was thick enough to choke on.

Desmond, clearly tipsy and misreading the room entirely, chuckled. He swirled his drink, his eyes drifting over to where I stood by the door, trying to blend into the wallpaper.

"Rough day, Alpha?" Desmond slurred slightly. "Hey, look on the bright side. Now that your chosen Luna is back and eager, you won't be needing your little Omega stress-ball anymore, right?"

He winked at me, a lewd, suggestive gesture. "Mind if I see if her scent is as calming as they say? I could use a little stress relief myself."

The air left the room.

A growl tore through the suite—a sound so primal, so filled with raw, possessive violence that the candles flickered.

Brennan moved. In a blur of speed, he was in Desmond's face, his hand gripping the Beta's shirt, lifting him onto his toes. His eyes were no longer human; they were the glowing, molten gold of his Lycan.

"Touch her," Brennan snarled, his voice vibrating with the power of a Command, "and you will lose the hand."

Desmond paled, instantly sobering up. He raised his hands in surrender. "Alpha... I didn't... I was joking."

Brennan shoved him back, his chest heaving. The silence that followed was deafening. Kassie stood frozen, her face pale as she looked from Brennan to me, her eyes wide with shock. She had wanted a reaction, but not this. Never this.

Brennan turned away from them, his wolf pacing just beneath his skin. He looked at me, his eyes burning with a mixture of fury and a dark, undeniable hunger that terrified me more than his anger.

He couldn't stay here. The *Sakura* scent was making him sick; I could see it in the way his nose wrinkled. He needed to ground himself.

He stalked toward me, grabbing my wrist. His grip was bruising.

"We're leaving," he rasped.

"Back to the penthouse, Alpha?" I whispered, trembling.

He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.

"No," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. "Let's head to your place."