"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."
