The training grounds echoed with the sound of clashing practice blades and heavy breathing. I stood at the edge, watching the Black Moon warriors move with fluid precision. My muscles ached from yesterday's session, but I refused to show weakness.

"Again," Parker commanded, his voice carrying across the field. "Your stance is wrong."

I adjusted my feet, lowering my center as James approached with a training staff. Three days of this—three days of being the weakest link in a chain of elite warriors.

James lunged forward. I parried awkwardly, stumbling backward.

"Too slow," he said, not unkindly. "Your reflexes need work."

Parker watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed. The heat in his eyes when they met mine made my skin tingle.

"Enough," he finally said, stepping forward. "Let me show her."

James stepped back, yielding his position. Parker moved behind me, his chest brushing my back as he adjusted my grip on the staff.

"Like this," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "Feel the balance."

His hands guided mine, strong and sure. The contact sent electricity racing through me, my wolf stirring restlessly.

"Again," he instructed, stepping away.

This time when James attacked, I was ready. I blocked his strike and countered with one of my own.

"Better," Parker nodded, a rare smile touching his lips.

I caught my breath, suddenly aware of how close he'd been. The warriors around us had stopped training, their eyes darting between Parker and me.

"Is it just me," James muttered, "or does it suddenly smell like mating season out here?"

Parker's jaw tightened. "Back to work," he barked, but the damage was done.

Every wolf on the training ground could smell our arousal—his and mine—hanging heavy in the air.

Parker stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. "I promised I'd wait until you're ready."

---

The Werewolf Council chamber was imposing—all stone and ancient wood, with five solemn figures seated at a raised dais. I stood straight-backed beside James, with Parker slightly behind me—a position that spoke volumes about my new status.

"Travis Patterson," announced the Head Councilor, "you stand accused of embezzlement and neglect of pack resources."

Travis entered from the opposite door, looking nothing like the polished Beta I'd known. His clothes were rumpled, his hair unkempt. Without my management, his carefully constructed image was crumbling.

"This is ridiculous," he snarled, his eyes finding mine. "A runaway Omega with delusions of grandeur."

He stalked toward me, aggression radiating from every pore. "You think you can just leave? Take my son?"

Parker moved forward, his massive frame blocking Travis's path. "Step back."

Travis's lip curled. "The great Alpha Parker Shaw, reduced to guarding a reject."

I placed my hand on Parker's arm, gently moving him aside. "This is my fight."

I stepped forward until I was inches from Travis. "Your son? The one you dressed in second-hand clothes while spending fifty thousand on a trinket for your mistress?"

Travis flinched as I released my Alpha aura—not as strong as Parker's, but enough to make him stumble back.

"You're nothing," he hissed, but there was fear in his eyes now.

---

"The Council has reviewed all evidence," the Head Councilor intoned. "Financial records, testimony from Dr. Helena Cross regarding the wolfsbane incident, and documentation of Mr. Patterson's expenditures."

Travis paced like a caged animal. "This is a farce. A Beta's son belongs with his father!"

"A Beta who neglects his duties?" I countered, opening the folder I'd prepared. "A Beta who spends pack funds on luxuries for a rogue while his own son wears patched clothing?"

I laid out the evidence methodically—receipts for Georgina's gifts alongside those for Mac's necessities.

"And finally," I said, stepping into the center of the chamber, "there's this."

I let my shift take me, bones cracking and reforming as my white wolf emerged. Gasps echoed through the chamber.

"A White Wolf," the Head Councilor whispered. "Royal Lycan bloodline."

I shifted back smoothly. "I was told I was wolfless. Worthless. Yet here I stand."

The verdict came swiftly. "Custody granted to Olivia Campbell. Visitation suspended pending further review. All assets frozen until investigation complete."

Travis's face contorted with rage. "You stole her face!" he screamed, pointing at me. "You stole my chosen mate's face!"

The chamber fell silent as everyone turned to stare at him.

"Your chosen mate?" the Head Councilor asked coldly. "Not your legal one?"

Travis's eyes widened as he realized his mistake. He'd just admitted to choosing another over his legal mate—a serious offense in werewolf law.

I smiled thinly. "I wonder what the Council will think of that confession."

Parker stepped forward, his hand finding mine. "I think we're done here."

As we turned to leave, Travis's screams echoed behind us. But for once, I didn't flinch. I was finally free.

The supply convoy crawled along the narrow forest road, our wagons loaded with precious medical supplies for the Black Moon Pack. I rode at the front beside James, my body still aching from yesterday's training but my mind sharp with focus.

"Stay alert," James murmured, scanning the trees. "We're nearing Silverfang territory."

I nodded, my newly awakened senses picking up the faintest scents on the breeze. Something wasn't right. The forest was too quiet.

"Hold," I called, raising my hand. "Something's wrong."

The convoy halted. James looked at me questioningly.

"Rogues," I whispered, catching the acrid scent of unfamiliar wolves. "At least fifteen. Surrounding us."

James's eyes widened as he caught the scent too late. "Form defensive positions!" he shouted.

We were outnumbered three to one. The mercenaries burst from the trees with coordinated precision that spoke of military training. These weren't ordinary rogues—they were professionals.

"Protect the supplies!" James roared, shifting into his wolf form.

I remained human, my mind racing through tactical options. Direct confrontation would mean casualties we couldn't afford.

"They're trying to flank us," I realized, watching their movements. "James, take four warriors and circle behind them. Use the ridge for cover."

James hesitated. "But you—"

"Go!" I commanded, my Alpha tone emerging naturally. "I'll hold the center."

The warriors obeyed instantly. I grabbed a fallen branch as a makeshift weapon.

"Form a pincer," I instructed the remaining warriors. "We'll squeeze them between us."

The mercenaries faltered at our unexpected strategy. Their leader—a scarred wolf with a missing ear—growled in confusion.

"Who's in command?" he demanded.

I stepped forward. "I am."

His laugh turned to shock as I lunged forward, my stick striking his forearm with precision. "A little Omega thinks she can lead?"

"Former Omega," I corrected, dodging his counterattack. "Now White Wolf."

The battle was brutal but brief. My pincer maneuver worked perfectly—the mercenaries found themselves trapped between two forces, unable to exploit their superior numbers.

I was surveying the damage when pain exploded in my side. A rogue had snuck behind me, his claws tearing through my flesh.

"Olivia!" James shouted, finishing off his opponent and racing toward me.

I collapsed to one knee, blood soaking my shirt. Through blurring vision, I saw Parker burst through the trees, his massive black wolf form radiating fury.

The remaining mercenaries didn't stand a chance. Parker tore through them like a force of nature, his roars shaking the forest. I'd never seen such raw power—such controlled rage.

"Parker," I gasped as he shifted back to human form beside me.

His hands were gentle despite his rage, lifting me carefully. "Who did this?" he demanded.

"The rogues," I managed. "They're mercenaries. Paid to attack us."

Parker's eyes flashed amber as he carried me toward the pack house. "We'll find out who sent them."

---

Back at the infirmary, Parker refused to let anyone else tend my wounds. His fingers trembled slightly as he cleaned the gashes in my side.

"You could have been killed," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"But I wasn't," I replied weakly. "The tactic worked."

"You're a natural commander." His eyes met mine. "Where did you learn that maneuver?"

I hesitated. "Old war journals. Travis thought they were useless, but I read them all."

Parker's jaw tightened. "Of course he did."

As he applied healing salve to my wounds, something inside me finally broke. Three years of suppression, of pretending I was worthless—it all came flooding out.

"I thought I was nothing," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "For so long, I believed him."

Parker set aside the salve and gathered me in his arms. "You were never nothing, Olivia."

I buried my face against his chest, feeling truly safe for the first time in years. "I don't know who I am anymore."

"You're a White Wolf," he murmured into my hair. "You're a warrior. You're..."

"Mate," I finished for him, looking up into his eyes.

His breath caught. "Not yet," he said gently. "But soon, if you want that."

---

"The camp is here," Parker said two days later, pointing to a crude map. "The mercenary's phone led us to this location."

I studied the layout of the rogue encampment. "We need to move quickly. They'll have moved Georgina by now."

Parker nodded. "You're sure you're up for this?"

"I need to see her," I said firmly. "I need to understand."

The raid was swift and silent. We captured the remaining mercenaries and found ourselves facing a small cabin at the center of the camp.

"She's inside," Parker confirmed.

I approached slowly, my heart pounding. When I pushed open the door, I froze.

A woman sat bound to a chair—a woman who looked exactly like me.

"Georgina?" I whispered.

She lifted her head, and I saw my own eyes staring back at me.

"Who are you?" she asked hoarsely.

"I'm Olivia," I replied, my voice shaking. "Olivia Campbell."

Realization dawned in her eyes. "Campbell... that was our mother's name."

The world seemed to tilt beneath me as understanding crashed through me like a tidal wave.

"We're twins," I breathed. "Separate at birth."

Georgina's eyes filled with tears. "They stole me," she whispered. "The rogues took me to use as leverage against our family."

I knelt before her, cutting the ropes that bound her. "Our family?"

"The Lycan Royal House," she said simply. "They feared what we might become."

As we stared at each other—mirror images with different souls—I felt something shift inside me. The final piece of my identity falling into place.