The silence that followed Dorothy's final breath was deafening. I remained kneeling beside her body, my hands still clutching hers, unable to process what had just happened. The banquet hall had erupted into chaos—pack members shouting, glasses shattering, chairs scraping against stone floors.

"Clara's mother collapsed!" someone yelled again, and Andrew was already moving toward the commotion, Eden clutched dramatically against his chest.

I tried once more to mind-link him. *Andrew, please! It's your mother who's dying!*

His mental wall slammed against me, so violent I physically recoiled.

"Stop being hysterical," he snapped over his shoulder. "Deal with your own family!"

The servant's door creaked open then, and a familiar figure stepped through, carrying a pitcher of water. My mother—very much alive—looked confused by the uproar.

"What's happening?" she asked, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. "I was just getting fresh water for—"

The room fell silent. Utterly silent.

Andrew froze mid-step, his arm still around Eden. Slowly, he turned toward the figure on the floor—the figure I was still cradling in my lap.

"Mother?" he whispered, his face draining of color.

In that moment, I expected him to rush to Dorothy's side. To fall to his knees beside me. To show some semblance of the grief that was tearing me apart.

Instead, his expression hardened into something I'd never seen before—pure, calculating rage.

"You," he snarled, advancing toward me with such fury that several pack members stepped back. "You did this."

I stared up at him, bewildered. "What?"

"You confused me," he spat, towering over me. "You let me believe it was your mother who collapsed. You failed as a Healer!"

The accusation hit me like a physical blow. Behind him, Eden's eyes gleamed with something that looked disturbingly like satisfaction.

"I tried to tell you," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I mind-linked you—"

"And I blocked you because I was dealing with an emergency!" Andrew roared, his Alpha aura flaring so violently that nearby pack members winced. "An emergency you fabricated!"

He turned to the assembled crowd, his voice rising to carry to every corner of the hall. "My Luna has failed in her most basic duty. She couldn't even identify who needed help!"

Murmurs rippled through the pack. I felt their eyes on me—some pitying, others accusatory.

"Eden," Andrew said, his voice softening instantly as he turned to her, "you're clearly traumatized by this... this incompetence."

Eden nodded, her lower lip trembling perfectly. "I just want to help," she whispered. "Let me comfort you, Alpha."

---

Hours later, I found myself alone in the preparation chamber, gently washing Dorothy's body for the funeral rites. The pack elders had given me this task—perhaps as punishment, perhaps because no one else wanted it.

"You deserved better," I murmured, combing her silver hair with trembling fingers.

That's when I noticed it—a faint, sweet scent clinging to the foam that had dried at the corners of her mouth. It wasn't the metallic smell of death I'd expected. It was something else entirely.

I leaned closer, inhaling deeply. My wolf stirred within me, suddenly alert.

*What is it?* she asked.

I closed my eyes, calling upon the knowledge Dorothy had secretly taught me over the years—the advanced herbal lore she'd shared when Andrew wasn't around.

"Midnight Aconite," I whispered, my blood running cold. "A modified wolfsbane."

My fingers trembled as I examined the residue more carefully. The modification was subtle—someone had combined the wolfsbane with sweetbriar to mask its bitterness. But they hadn't accounted for the distinctive scent it left behind.

This wasn't natural heart failure. This was murder.

---

"Andrew," I said firmly, pushing open his office door without knocking.

He looked up from his desk, where he sat with Eden. A half-empty bottle of whiskey stood between them, two glasses catching the lamplight.

"What is it now, Clara?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation.

"I found something," I said, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. "Dorothy was poisoned."

Eden's hand flew to her throat. "Poisoned?"

"Midnight Aconite," I continued, watching her reaction carefully. "Modified wolfsbane. I found traces in the foam from her mouth."

Andrew's expression darkened. Before he could speak, Eden burst into tears.

"She's trying to frame me!" she sobbed, clinging to Andrew's arm. "Because she's jealous of us!"

"Clara," Andrew growled, rising from his chair. "Enough."

"Andrew, please," I begged. "Just listen—"

"SILENCE!"

His Alpha command hit me like a physical blow, forcing me back a step. My wolf whimpered in pain at the assault.

"You are forbidden from investigating further," he snarled, his eyes flashing gold with Alpha power. "You will return to the Healer's wing immediately."

"But—"

"You're confined there until further notice," he continued, each word hammering into me with the weight of his command. "Perhaps some time alone will remind you of your place."

Eden's tears vanished instantly, replaced by a small, triumphant smile as Andrew placed a protective arm around her shoulders.

As I turned to leave, defeated by his command, my wolf's voice echoed in my mind: *We will find the truth. No matter what it costs.*

The moonlight cast long shadows across the Alpha's study as I slipped through the door, my heart pounding against my ribs. Three days of confinement in the Healer's wing had left me restless, but it had also given me time to think. To plan.

Dorothy's journals. I needed them before Andrew destroyed them.

"We have to hurry," I whispered to my wolf, who prowled anxiously within me. "If he finds us here..."

*He won't,* she growled back. *We are quieter than he is careless.*

The study smelled of leather and whiskey—Andrew's scent had always dominated this space, but now I could detect something else. Fear. His fear.

I moved toward Dorothy's bookshelf, hidden behind a false panel in the far wall. My fingers traced the outline of the secret compartment, finding the small latch that would reveal her precious journals.

"Where is it?" A frantic voice made me freeze. "Where is that damn recipe?"

Andrew burst through the door, his eyes wild, his usually immaculate appearance disheveled. He didn't notice me crouched in the shadows as he tore through the bookshelves, tossing leather-bound volumes onto the floor.

"The Grief Tea," he muttered, ripping pages from a notebook. "The pack expects it at the funeral. Mother always made it, but I—" He stopped, running his hands through his hair. "I don't know how to make it without her notes."

I pressed myself against the wall, barely breathing. This was it—the confession of his fraud, spoken in his moment of panic.

"Eden says I need to show strength," he continued, talking to himself. "But how can I lead if I can't even perform the basic rituals?"

He yanked another journal from the shelf, flipping through it desperately. "Where is it? Where is the recipe?"

I watched as he tore through Dorothy's life's work, searching for the knowledge he should have possessed as Alpha. The knowledge he'd been stealing from her for years.

---

"Clara." Andrew's voice cut through the morning air like a blade. "Come with me."

I followed him to his office, my body still aching from yesterday's Alpha command. Eden sat perched on the edge of his desk, her fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder.

"You called for me, Alpha?" I kept my voice neutral, though my wolf snarled at the sight of them together.

"I need you to hand over my mother's Luna Amulet." Andrew extended his palm toward me. "Immediately."

The amulet hung heavy around my neck—Dorothy's final gift to me before she died. I touched it reflexively, feeling the ancient silver warm against my skin.

"Why?" I asked, though I already knew.

"Eden needs spiritual comfort during this trying time," he said, not meeting my eyes. "As the future Luna, she should wear it."

Eden's eyes gleamed with triumph as she leaned forward. "It would mean so much to me, Clara."

"No." The word escaped before I could stop it.

Andrew's face darkened. "What did you say?"

"I said no." I straightened my spine, clutching the amulet tighter. "This is Dorothy's amulet. It's sacred. It's not yours to give away."

"SACRED?" Andrew roared, his Alpha aura exploding outward. "YOU DARE SPEAK OF SACRED THINGS AFTER WHAT YOU'VE DONE?"

The force of his rage hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, but refused to fall.

"KNEEL!" he commanded, his Alpha voice reverberating through my bones.

Pain shot through my body as my knees buckled against my will. I fought against it, trembling with the effort to remain standing.

"Andrew," I gasped, "please—"

"KNEEL BEFORE YOUR ALPHA!" His voice cracked like thunder.

My legs gave out. I collapsed to the floor, the amulet digging into my palm as I clutched it desperately. Something inside me cracked—a hairline fracture in our mate bond that sent waves of agony through my chest.

Eden's soft laugh floated down from above. "Poor Clara. Still so defiant."

---

"Gamma Stone?" I knocked softly on Marcus's door, wincing at the pain in my bruised body.

The door opened, revealing the tall, imposing figure of our pack's head warrior. His eyes widened slightly at my appearance.

"Luna," he said, glancing over his shoulder before pulling me inside. "You shouldn't be here."

"I need your help," I whispered, pulling out the toxicology notes I'd hidden in my boot. "Dorothy was poisoned. I have proof."

Marcus examined the papers, his expression darkening. "These are serious accusations, Luna."

"I know." I swallowed hard. "And I think Eden did it."

He studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "Dorothy was good to me. Better than good."

Hope fluttered in my chest. "Will you help me?"

"I can't openly defy the Alpha," he said carefully. "But if you can prove Eden's involvement..."

"I need to leave the Pack House," I said quickly. "There's a Rogue herbalist who might have supplied the wolfsbane. If I could just—"

"Tomorrow night," Marcus interrupted. "During the border patrol shift change. I'll make sure the east gate is unguarded for exactly seven minutes."

He handed back my notes, his eyes hard with resolve. "Find your proof, Luna. For Dorothy."

As I turned to leave, he added quietly, "And be careful. The pack is watching."

The scent was faint but unmistakable—a mixture of wild sage and something sharper, more acrid. I'd caught it on Eden's clothes three days ago, when she'd brushed past me in the hallway. My wolf had stirred then, whispering *danger* before I could even process what it meant.

Now, following that same scent through the dense forest at the edge of our territory, I moved silently between the trees. The morning mist clung to the underbrush, providing perfect cover as I approached the border.

"You're sure about this?" Marcus had asked when I'd told him my plan.

"Positive," I'd replied, remembering how Dorothy had taught me to track medicinal scents. "This particular blend of herbs isn't found in our territory. Someone brought it from outside."

The campsite appeared suddenly between the trees—a small clearing with the remnants of a fire pit and scattered herbal bundles hanging from nearby branches. But it was abandoned, the ashes cold and the bundles swaying in the morning breeze.

"Too late," I muttered, disappointment washing over me.

But my wolf nudged me forward. *Dig deeper.*

I knelt by the fire pit, my fingers tracing the edges of the stone circle. Something had been buried here recently—the earth was disturbed, still fresh. Carefully, I began to excavate, my Healer's hands working methodically through the soil.

"Got you," I whispered as my fingers closed around leather-bound edges.

The ledger was half-burnt, its pages singed and brittle. I opened it carefully, dusting away dirt to reveal neat columns of transactions. My heart raced as I flipped through, recognizing names of common herbs until—

"Modified Aconite. Special order."

And beside it, a signature I recognized instantly: *Eden Powell.*

Below the transaction was a hastily scrawled note: "Safe passage through Silver Moon territory guaranteed upon completion."

I photographed the page with my phone, then tucked the ledger into my bag. "Evidence," I whispered to my wolf, who purred with satisfaction.

---

Back at the pack house, chaos reigned in the kitchens. Andrew stood over a massive copper pot, his face twisted in concentration as he stirred the contents violently.

"It should be calming," Elder Thomas said, his weathered face creased with concern. "The Grief Tea is meant to bring peace, not agitation."

"I'm doing it right," Andrew snapped, sweat beading on his forehead. "It's these herbs—they're inferior quality."

I lingered in the doorway, watching as he added another handful of dried leaves to the pot. The smell was all wrong—bitter and sharp instead of the soothing lavender and chamomile Dorothy had always used.

"Perhaps Clara could assist?" Elder Isabella suggested, her eyes finding mine across the room.

Before I could step forward, Eden materialized at Andrew's side, her hand resting possessively on his arm.

"Clara gathered these herbs," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Maybe that's the problem."

Andrew's eyes narrowed as he looked at me. "Is that true? Are you sabotaging the ritual?"

"I gathered exactly what Dorothy always used," I replied evenly, though my wolf bristled at the accusation.

"Liar," Eden whispered just loud enough for nearby pack members to hear. "You've been trying to undermine Andrew since his mother died."

The Elders exchanged glances, their faith in their Alpha visibly wavering. One of them stepped back, murmuring something to another council member.

Andrew ladled a spoonful of the tea, taking a cautious sip. His face contorted instantly—the brew was undrinkable.

"See?" Eden hissed. "Even he can taste your incompetence."

---

I was heading to my quarters when Eden cornered me in the hallway, her body blocking my path.

"Enjoying your little investigation?" she asked, her voice no longer carrying the sweet innocence she used around Andrew.

I kept my expression neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb," she sneered, leaning closer. "It doesn't suit you."

Something shifted in her eyes—the mask slipping to reveal the calculation beneath. "You know what? I'm tired of pretending."

My wolf tensed within me, ready for danger.

"That old hag was never going to step aside," Eden continued, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "She was the gatekeeper, always standing between me and what I deserved."

"You killed her," I said quietly, not a question but a statement.

Eden's smile was cold. "I removed an obstacle. Dorothy was too traditional, too tied to the old ways. She'd never let Andrew see how much better things could be with me as Luna."

"You poisoned her."

"Modified Aconite," Eden confirmed, pride evident in her voice. "Untraceable, or so I thought."

I kept my face carefully blank, committing every word to memory even as I cataloged the scent of her arrogance—a mixture of excitement and fear.

"Andrew will never believe you," she continued, leaning so close I could feel her breath on my cheek. "He's too addicted to my praise, too desperate for my validation."

My wolf growled deep within me, but I remained still, watching as Eden's confidence grew.

"He'll always choose me over you," she whispered. "Always."

As she turned to leave, I caught a final whiff of her scent—something new mingling with the familiar herbs. Something that made my blood run cold.

Guilty knowledge.