The moon hung like a silver pendant in the night sky, casting long shadows across the Omega quarters. I pressed my face against the small window, watching the patrol pass beneath me for the third time. Their footsteps were heavy, predictable—every two hours, like clockwork.

"Time to change shifts," I whispered to myself, my fingers working the hairpin I'd kept hidden in my sock. The lock on my cell door was basic—designed to contain ordinary Omegas, not a former Luna with nothing left to lose.

The mechanism clicked open with a soft sound that seemed deafening in the silence. I froze, listening for any response, but the hallway remained empty.

*Now*, my wolf urged. *While they're distracted with the shift change.*

I slipped through the door like a ghost, my bare feet silent on the concrete floor. The Omega quarters were located in the basement of the packhouse, but I knew every tunnel and passage—I'd walked them countless times as Luna, visiting the sick and elderly.

"Did you hear something?" A voice echoed from around the corner.

"Probably just the crazy Luna talking to herself again," another replied with a snicker. "Bella says she's completely lost it."

I pressed myself against the wall, controlling my breathing as two of Bella's cronies passed within feet of me. Their scents were familiar—Delta warriors who'd been assigned to guard the medical wing. They were taking the long route, giving me exactly the window I needed.

"Alpha wants extra security around Dr. Sarah's lab," one of them muttered. "Something about sensitive research."

"Sensitive my ass," the other replied. "I think he's just protecting his mistress's secrets."

Their voices faded as they rounded the corner. I waited until their footsteps were distant before moving again, my heart pounding so loudly I was certain it would give me away.

The medical wing was located on the east side of the packhouse, accessible only through a series of security doors. As I approached the first one, panic fluttered in my chest.

*What if they've changed the codes?*

But my fingers remembered what my mind had forgotten—the sequence Lawrence had shown me years ago, when we were still young and in love. 0-8-1-5. Emma's birthday.

The lock blinked green, and the door swung open silently.

"Still using the same code," I whispered, a bitter smile touching my lips. "Some things never change."

Dr. Sarah's office was at the end of the corridor, marked with her name and a red biohazard symbol. The door required both a keycard and a fingerprint scan—security measures I would have found impossible to bypass just days ago.

But I'd spent hours watching from my window, memorizing the patterns of the packhouse staff. Dr. Sarah always left her keycard in the pocket of her lab coat, which she hung on the hook just inside her office door.

I slipped inside, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. Medical equipment hummed softly around me, monitoring systems and refrigerated storage units filled with samples and medications.

"Where would she keep Emma's records?" I whispered, scanning the room frantically.

Archived physical records were kept in the filing cabinet behind her desk—I'd seen her retrieve files from there during my visits with Emma. My fingers trembled as I pulled open the drawer marked "Patient Records: G-M."

Green, Emma Marie. My daughter's file was thicker than I expected, bound with a black ribbon that seemed to pulse with malevolence in the dim light.

I flipped it open, scanning the pages with desperate eyes. Initial examination reports. Treatment notes. Progress updates. And then—

"Autopsy Results: Green, Emma Marie. Cause of death: Acute wolfsbane poisoning."

My blood turned to ice as I read further. "Subject exhibits classic symptoms of exposure to highly concentrated, unrefined wolfsbane: convulsions, respiratory failure, cardiac arrest. Toxicology confirms presence of alkaloids unique to laboratory-grade wolfsbane."

Laboratory-grade. Controlled by the Alpha family.

The room spun around me as pieces clicked into place. The strange scent in Emma's room that day. Margaret's insistence on handling the arrangements personally. Lawrence's desperate cover-up.

"Find anything interesting?"

I whirled around, clutching the file to my chest. A Delta warrior stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Just looking for some sleeping pills," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "The stress has been... difficult."

He stepped closer, his nostrils flaring as he caught my scent. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I know." I backed away slowly, the file still clutched in my hand. "I was just leaving."

His hand moved to his radio. "I need to call this in."

"No need," I said, my wolf surging forward with unexpected strength. "I'm going back to my cell. Tell Bella her secret is safe with me."

Confusion flickered across his face—just long enough for me to slip past him and disappear into the shadows of the corridor.

Behind me, I heard him calling for backup, but I was already gone, the precious truth clutched against my heart like a talisman.

Emma hadn't just died. She'd been murdered.

The Omega quarters were silent save for the occasional drip of water somewhere in the darkness. I sat on the edge of my cot, Emma's medical file hidden beneath my thin mattress, when I heard footsteps approaching. Heavy, deliberate steps that made the floor beneath me vibrate.

My wolf stirred within me, instantly alert. *He's coming.*

The door swung open without warning, and Lawrence filled the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking out what little light filtered through the corridor. His scent—pine and winter frost, once so comforting—now made my stomach turn.

"Evie," he said, his voice softer than I'd heard it in months. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The small room suddenly felt suffocating.

I remained seated, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower. "What do you want, Lawrence?"

He moved closer, his Alpha pheromones filling the space between us like a physical touch. I felt my wolf respond involuntarily, the mate bond still pulling at us despite everything.

"I came to make you an offer," he said, crouching before me so our eyes were level. His gaze was intense, searching mine for any sign of weakness. "I miss you, Evie."

"Don't," I warned, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "Don't pretend this is about anything other than damage control."

His expression hardened slightly, but he pressed on. "I'm willing to restore your Luna title."

I laughed, the sound harsh in the small room. "How generous."

"You would have everything you had before," he continued, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. I flinched away from his touch. "Your position, your quarters, your status."

"And what do you want in return?" I asked, though I already knew.

His eyes flickered to my flat stomach before returning to my face. "You would help raise Alexander as your own."

The name hit me like a physical blow. Alexander. He'd named the boy Alexander.

"Your mistress's son," I clarified, my voice ice-cold. "The one born the day our daughter died."

Lawrence's jaw tightened. "He's my son and heir. The pack needs stability."

"And what about Emma?" I demanded, rising to my feet despite the cramped space. "Did she get what she needed?"

Something flickered across his face—guilt, perhaps, or irritation at being questioned. "Emma's death was tragic, but—"

"But convenient?" I cut him off, my wolf surging forward with a growl. "Convenient timing for your new heir?"

His Alpha aura flared, filling the room with pressure that made my knees weak. "You will not speak of my son that way."

"Your son," I repeated, emphasizing the words. "Not our daughter."

Lawrence moved closer, his hand gripping my chin firmly. "Accept this offer, Evie. Be smart. You're still my mate—we can make this work."

I met his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. "And if I refuse?"

His eyes darkened. "Then you'll remain here, forgotten by the pack. Your name will be erased from our records. No one will remember that you were ever Luna."

"Except you," I whispered. "You'll never forget what you did to us."

Something snapped in his expression—a momentary crack in his composed facade. "I did what was necessary to protect this pack!"

"From what?" I pressed, sensing weakness. "From the truth about what really happened to Emma?"

His hand tightened on my chin. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" I leaned forward, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Wolfsbane poisoning, Lawrence. Highly concentrated, laboratory-grade wolfsbane."

The color drained from his face so quickly I thought he might faint. His pupils dilated, and for just a moment, raw panic flashed across his features before he regained control.

"Where did you hear that?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low.

"Does it matter?" I countered. "What matters is that you knew. You covered it up to protect whoever was really responsible."

He released me abruptly, stepping back as if burned. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I found her medical file," I said, watching his face carefully. "I know what killed our daughter."

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us like a chasm. Then Lawrence's expression hardened into something cold and unrecognizable.

"You should be careful with accusations like that," he warned. "Some truths are better left buried."

"Like your mother's involvement?" I challenged, taking a step toward him. "Was it worth it, Lawrence? Protecting her secret while our daughter's death went unavenged?"

His eyes widened fractionally—just enough to confirm my worst fears.

"You knew," I whispered, the final piece falling into place. "You knew all along."