"Sit still, sweetie."

The brake pedal groaned as I stopped at the intersection. I leaned across the center console, pretending to adjust the collar of Caleb's private academy uniform.

His scent hit my nose. It smelled exactly like Seraphina’s perfume. The heavy, floral aroma completely masked whatever natural scent a ten-year-old pup should have carried. Worse—there wasn't a single trace of me on him. Not one.

"Mom, you're choking me," Caleb complained. He swatted at my wrist.

"There's a white hair right here," I lied. My fingers found a thick strand near the nape of his neck. I pinched the root and yanked.

"Ow!"

"Got it," I murmured, keeping my fist tightly closed.

"Why are you acting so weird today?" Caleb asked. He rubbed the red mark on his neck. "Dad said you were stressed out."

"Did he?"

"Yeah. He told me to give you space. Said you were working too hard on the territorial consolidation."

"Your father says a lot of things," I replied. "What else did he say?"

"Just that you need quiet time. Are you mad at him?"

"No, sweetie. I'm not mad."

The light turned green. I steered the SUV into the drop-off lane of the school. My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

"Bye, Mom," Caleb grumbled. He unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out without looking back.

"Have a good day," I called out.

I watched the heavy iron gates close behind him. Once he disappeared from view, I opened my hand. My fingers shook violently. I pressed the single brown hair onto the sticky edge of a page in my leather notebook and shut the cover with a loud snap.

I threw the car into drive.

The Pack DNA Center smelled of antiseptic and ozone. I bypassed the empty waiting area and slapped my credit card onto the reception counter.

"I need this analyzed immediately," I told the technician. I slid the sealed notebook across the glass.

She opened the cover with a pair of metal tweezers. "Standard processing takes five days, Ms. Voss. Rush is four days."

"Make it faster."

"That requires triple the fee. Plus, we have to run the full Lycan marker panel to get a complete genetic profile."

"Rush it," I demanded.

"I'll put it in the priority queue." She typed rapidly on her keyboard. "We'll email you the results."

"How secure is your system?" I asked.

"State of the art. Only the email on file receives the decryption key."

"Good. Make sure nobody else accesses this file. Not even an Alpha."

She blinked, surprised by the command. "Understood, Luna."

I retreated to a plastic chair in the corner. My neck throbbed. The Mating Mark pulsed, transmitting Kael’s frantic, erratic emotions from across the city. He knew I was digging. The bond felt infected, pushing his panic straight into my bloodstream.

I pulled out my phone and dialed.

"Marek," I said the second the line connected.

"Elara. It's early." The private investigator's voice sounded gravelly. "What's wrong?"

"I need everything you can find on Kael Rourke. Especially the last six months."

"Your husband?" Marek whistled through his teeth. "That's a dangerous game for a Luna."

"Just do it," I ordered. "And find out whether he has paid any witches or purchased restricted spell components."

"Blood magic? That's forbidden. You think he's masking something?"

"I think I don't know the man I married. Send me whatever you find."

"I charge double for Alpha investigations."

"Bill the Silver Moon trust," I said. "And Marek?"

"Yeah?"

"If he catches you, don't try to fight him. Run."

"I know how to handle an Alpha, Elara."

"He's not acting like a normal Alpha right now. Just be careful." I ended the call.

At 3:40 PM, a notification pinged on my screen.

An email from the lab.

I tapped the attachment. A PDF loaded, filled with complex charts and genetic sequences. I bypassed the scientific jargon and scrolled straight to the bottom.

*Based on the tested genetic markers, maternity is excluded. Elara Voss is not the biological mother of Caleb Rourke.*

*Lycan markers indicate paternal lineage consistent with Kael Rourke. No hereditary claim to the Voss Blessed line detected.*

The phone slipped from my grasp. It clattered onto the linoleum floor.

My knees gave out. I slid down the cold, painted wall until I hit the baseboard.

A low, pathetic whine echoed in the empty hallway. It took me a second to realize the sound came from my own throat. The wolf inside my chest clawed at my ribs, howling in sheer agony.

Not my child.

I had raised a boy who wasn't mine for a decade.

One question swallowed every other thought: Where was my baby?

Silence answered.

I grabbed my phone, scrambled to my feet, and ran to the car.

The tires of my SUV screeched as I pulled into the parking structure of the city's largest medical center. Ten years ago, this was the exclusive Pack hospital. Now, it was just another wing in a massive human facility.

I marched straight to the obstetrics department.

Dr. Aris sat behind a massive oak desk. She had been my delivering physician back then. Now, she served as the department head.

"Elara," she greeted, standing up quickly. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "What brings you here?"

"I need my medical records from ten years ago. From my delivery."

Dr. Aris froze. Her scent—usually a calm chamomile—shrank. The subtle shift reeked of fear. It was a tiny tell only another wolf would catch.

"That was ten years ago," she stammered. She shuffled a stack of papers on her desk. "Those files might be archived."

"Find them," I insisted.

"Please, take a seat. I'll have a nurse check the basement storage."

I refused to sit. I paced the length of her office, tracking the minutes on the wall clock.

Twenty minutes later, a young nurse entered and handed Dr. Aris a thin manila folder. The doctor passed it to me across the desk.

I flipped it open.

Three pages.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.

"Your file," Dr. Aris replied, avoiding my gaze entirely.

"This shows my admission time, discharge time, delivery method, and birth weight." I shook the flimsy paper in her face. "Where's the rest of it?"

"That's all we have on record."

"A premier Pack hospital doesn't just lose records," I said, my voice dropping an octave. "Where are the labor records?" I challenged, leaning over the desk. "Where are the nurse handoff sheets? The newborn exam? The Lycan marker panel?"

Dr. Aris swallowed hard. Her pulse jumped at the base of her throat. "Standard procedure dictates that physical copies are destroyed after digitization."

"Then show me the digital files."

"I don't have access to the legacy servers."

"Where are the footprints?" I shouted, cutting her off. "The heel prick card? The shifting potential test?"

She shook her head, backing her chair away slightly. "Those should be in the newborn file, but we can't find them."

"You didn't even look!" I slammed my hands on the desk. "Twenty minutes isn't enough time to search a basement archive."

I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. It startled her so badly she flinched.

"You expect me to believe a premier Pack facility just lost an Alpha heir's entire newborn file?"

"Mistakes happen during archiving," she offered weakly.

It was too clean. A missing file. A missing child. A son who shared Kael’s face but carried none of my Blessed markers.

The pieces snapped together, forming a horrifying picture.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. Kael's name flashed on the screen.

I swiped to answer, bringing the speaker to my ear but remaining completely silent.

"Where are you?" Kael demanded. His tone was clipped, authoritative. "I picked up Caleb."

I pressed the red button, ending the call instantly.

My wolf's instincts screamed, tearing at my mind. The answer wasn't at home with my husband. It was right here in this hospital, buried beneath ten years of blood magic and carefully constructed lies.

"Incorrect password."

I read the red text aloud, the glow of Kael’s laptop painting my face in harsh light.

I tried again.

I typed the date of our Mating Ceremony. The screen shook with a red error box.

"Okay. Kael's birthday."

Rejected.

"Caleb's birthday."

Rejected.

The scar on my neck throbbed. The Mating Mark pulsed in time with my racing heart.

"Our first meeting," I muttered, striking the keys harder.

Error.

"Your mother's birthday."

Error.

"The Pack Council founding day."

Error.

What else did he care about enough to make it his password?

I typed the name of his favorite hunting ground.

Error.

A countdown timer flashed on the display. *System locked for fifteen minutes.*

He had planned this.

We bought this computer together the week after we mated. He told me it was for family finances. Now, a steel wall stood between me and his secrets.

Why change it now? What was he hiding today that he had not needed to hide yesterday?

A wave of smug satisfaction rippled through our mind-link. It didn't come from me. It floated up from the first floor.

Kael was home.

"You know I'm locked out," I said, glaring at the door. "You feel it."

I left the room and walked down the stairs.

Kael stood in the foyer, yanking at the knot of his silk tie. He kept his Alpha aura suppressed, flattening the air around him.

"I'm leaving for Harbor City tomorrow," he announced without glancing up.

"A business trip?" I asked, stepping into the kitchen to grab a serving bowl.

"Yes. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone."

"So sudden," I noted. "Who are you going with?"

"Just the executive team."

"Is Seraphina going?" I pressed.

"She's my secretary, Elara. Of course she is going."

"You didn't mention this trip this morning."

"It came up this afternoon."

He brushed by the counter. The scent hit my nose immediately.

Pine and leather. His normal scent. But underneath it lurked a cloying floral perfume threaded with the metallic residue of spellwork.

"Why do you care who goes?" he asked, dropping his briefcase onto the hardwood floor. The heavy thud echoed in the quiet house.

"I'm your Luna," I reminded him. "I should know who travels with my Alpha."

He spun around. His eyes flashed gold, but the dominance wavered. The authority he performed so effortlessly before the Pack cracked under private scrutiny, making his voice sharp and defensive.

"Why do you have to interrogate everything, Elara?" he snapped.

"I asked a simple question," I said.

"You're treating me like a suspect!"

"I'm treating you like a husband who just dropped a sudden trip on me."

"I'm just going for work!"

"Work," I repeated, my tone flat. "Right."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," I lied.

I turned my back to him and plated his dinner—roast chicken, green beans, and warm rolls. My hands shook so badly the serving spoon rattled against the ceramic.

The Mark on my neck burned like a branding iron.

"Just asking," I said quietly.

"Stop asking," he shot back.

"I'll ask whatever I want in my own house."

He didn't offer another word. He marched down the hall and slammed the bedroom door.

Dinner was a silent affair.

Caleb pushed his peas around his plate, his head bowed. The ten-year-old usually talked endlessly about his academy training. Tonight, he kept his mouth shut.

"Eat your food, Caleb," Kael ordered.

"I'm not hungry," Caleb mumbled.

"I said eat. You need your strength for training."

"Dad, I don't want it."

"Don't argue with me tonight," Kael warned, his voice dropping an octave.

"Leave him alone," I intervened.

"He needs discipline," Kael argued.

"He needs peace," I countered, grabbing Caleb's plate. "Go up to your room and finish your homework."

"But Dad said—" Caleb started.

"I said go," I told him gently.

Caleb scrambled out of his chair and ran upstairs.

Kael threw his napkin onto the table. "You coddle him."

"You're terrifying him," I shot back. "He can feel the tension."

"I have a territorial consolidation to handle, Elara. I don't have patience for this."

"Is that why you're acting like this?" I asked. "The consolidation?"

"What else would it be?"

"You tell me."

"I'm not doing this with you," he stated, pushing his chair back. The wood scraped loudly against the floor.

"Then go pack your bags," I suggested.

"I will," he growled.

He headed for the bathroom without looking back.

The shower ran for twenty minutes.

I cleared the table, wiping the granite counters until they shined.

Kael emerged from the hallway, his hair damp. He grabbed his suit jacket from the living room sofa.

A small slip of white paper slipped from the inner pocket. It fluttered to the rug, landing right at my feet.

He didn't notice. He slung the jacket over his arm.

"I'm going to pack my suitcase," he said.

"Need any help?" I offered, testing him.

"No. I can manage."

"Take your time."

I waited until his bedroom door clicked shut.

I crouched down and snatched the paper from the floor.

It was a store receipt. The total at the bottom made my stomach twist. It was exorbitant.

The date stamp read yesterday afternoon.

I scanned the itemized list. *Midnight Bloom Elixir.*

I recognized the bottle instantly. I had seen it sitting on Seraphina's desk in the Silver Moon administrative tower.

It wasn't ordinary perfume. It was a witch-brewed masking oil, the kind used to anchor an illegal blood-cloaking spell. A trace amount of wolfsbane stabilized the magic; any more would have been lethal.

He had bought it for her. In ten years, he had never chosen a gift for me with that much care.

For years, I told myself Kael just wasn't a romantic man. He never bought me gifts. He never left his scent on my neck to mark our anniversaries.

"He's too busy," I used to tell my friends.

"He shows love through providing," I used to tell myself.

I excused his coldness because I thought he was overwhelmed by Pack duties.

He wasn't incapable of romance. He just saved it for a scent he preferred.

I stared at the receipt, my wolf memory snapping a mental photograph. I locked every number, every timestamp, every barcode into my brain.

The mind-link in my head buzzed with a deafening static.

It wasn't a glitch. It wasn't a typo.

My husband was hiding a Rogue woman, and the boy I had raised carried none of my blood.

Who was Kael Rourke really?

The answer was waiting in Harbor City.

"I'm going with you," I promised the silent house. "Whether you like it or not."