I stood in the doorway of our bedroom, smoothing the fabric of my gown one last time. The deep emerald silk caught the light, hugging curves that had finally returned after months of recovery. Tonight was supposed to be perfect. My first public appearance since Boden's birth. My return as Luna of Silvercrest Pack.

I wanted Mason to see me like this before the banquet started. Before the crowd, the formality, the eyes of every ranked wolf in the pack. Just us. Just the way it used to be.

Silver stirred uneasily in my chest.

*What's wrong?* I asked her silently.

She didn't answer. Just a low rumble, like distant thunder.

I pushed the feeling aside. Silver had been restless for weeks now. The healer said it was normal after a difficult pregnancy. That some wolves took longer to settle back into their strength. I believed her because I wanted to. Because believing anything else meant acknowledging something I wasn't ready to face.

The drive to the pack house took fifteen minutes. Mason had been staying there more often lately, handling pack business late into the night. He said it was easier than driving back and forth. That he didn't want to wake me and Boden. I told him I understood. That I was proud of how seriously he took his responsibilities as Alpha.

Now, walking through the corridor toward his private quarters, I felt a flutter of excitement. Maybe we could steal a few minutes alone before the banquet. Maybe he'd look at me the way he used to—like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

That's when the scent hit me.

Mason's cedar-and-smoke musk. I knew it instantly. I'd buried my face in his neck a thousand times, breathed it in like oxygen. But tonight it was different. Drenched in something floral. Jasmine and vanilla. A she-wolf's scent.

Selena's scent.

I stopped walking. My heels clicked once more on the marble floor, then went silent.

Silver exploded inside my mind—not a warning this time, but vindication. A howl that said *I told you. I told you. I told you.*

The scent wasn't casual. Not the kind you'd pick up from standing too close during a meeting. This was intimate. Skin against skin. The mingling that happened when bodies pressed together, when sweat and heat made scents inseparable.

I should have turned around. Should have left. But my feet carried me forward, drawn by something I couldn't name. Dread. Disbelief. The terrible need to know.

I stopped outside the door to Mason's private office. It was cracked open just enough. Voices drifted through—low, comfortable, laughing.

Then I felt it. The mind-link channel. Open. Unguarded.

Mason never closed his link to me completely. He said it was because he wanted to feel me nearby, even when we were apart. Now I realized it was carelessness. Arrogance. He never imagined I'd be here.

I slipped into the connection like a ghost.

*"—can't believe she hasn't figured it out yet,"* Selena's voice purred through the link, smug and satisfied.

*"She won't,"* Mason replied. His tone was light. Amused. *"Macy's too desperate to believe her fated mate still wants her. A weak, used-up she-wolf whose wolf has gone soft."*

He laughed.

The mate bond screamed.

It wasn't metaphorical. It was physical. A blade twisting between my ribs, carving through muscle and bone, shredding everything I thought I knew. My knees buckled. I pressed my hand against the wall to keep from collapsing.

Silver howled—raw, agonized, furious.

*Weak. Used-up. Soft.*

The words looped in my mind, each repetition a fresh cut.

I heard movement inside the office. Footsteps. The rustle of fabric being adjusted.

I forced myself upright. Forced my face into something calm. Neutral. I stepped back from the door, smoothed my gown, and waited.

The door opened.

Mason emerged first, straightening his collar. His hair was slightly mussed. Selena followed a beat later, her fingers smoothing her own hair back into place. She wore her Gamma leathers, but they were loose at the collar. Her lips were swollen.

Mason's eyes widened when he saw me. Just for a second. Then his face split into a warm, easy smile.

"Macy! You're early." He crossed the distance between us and kissed my cheek. His scent wrapped around me—cedar and smoke and jasmine and lies. "I didn't expect you for another hour."

"I wanted to surprise you," I said softly. My voice didn't shake. I was proud of that. "I know how hard you've been working."

Relief flooded his face. He believed me. He actually believed I didn't know.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, his hand settling on my waist. The same hand that had touched her minutes ago.

I smiled. Leaned into him. Let the mate bond sing its poisoned song in my chest.

"Selena and I were just going over border patrol logistics," Mason said, glancing back at her. "The eastern perimeter needs reinforcement."

"Of course," I said, turning to Selena. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing at her lips. "Thank you for keeping him on track. I know how much the pack depends on you."

Her smirk widened. She thought I was weak. Oblivious. Exactly what Mason said I was.

I filed that look away. The angle of her chin. The confidence in her stance. The way she scent-marked the space around Mason like she already owned it.

I would remember everything.

"We should get ready for the banquet," I said, slipping my arm through Mason's. "Everyone's waiting to see their Alpha and Luna together."

Mason squeezed my hand. "Let's go show them."

As we walked down the corridor, I felt Selena's eyes on my back. Felt the weight of her contempt.

Silver growled low and steady.

*Not weak,* she whispered. *Not anymore.*

I smiled.

They had no idea what was coming.

I became the perfect Luna.

In the three days after the banquet, I played the role so flawlessly that even I almost believed it. I brought Mason breakfast on a tray—scrambled eggs, toast, coffee exactly how he liked it. I asked about his meetings. I laughed at his jokes. I touched his arm in public, smiled at his side, deferred to his authority in front of the pack.

Every gesture was calculated. Every word a lie wrapped in silk.

Silver snarled constantly now, a low vibration in my chest that never stopped. But I kept her contained. Kept her quiet. We had work to do.

I watched everything.

Mason disappeared for hours at a time, claiming pack business. Border patrols. Warrior training. Supply negotiations. I nodded and told him I understood. Then I noted the times. The patterns. The way his scent changed when he returned—always faintly floral now, always jasmine and vanilla clinging to his collar.

I watched the wolves, too. The way some avoided my gaze. The way others looked at me with something that might have been pity. A young Delta named Marcus stammered when I asked him about eastern perimeter security. His eyes darted toward the training grounds where Selena was running drills.

"The Gamma has it handled, Luna," he said quickly. "She's—she's very thorough."

Thorough. That was one word for it.

I smiled. Thanked him. Moved on.

Selena was everywhere now. In spaces that belonged to me. The Luna's office. The strategy room. Even the private dining hall where pack leadership gathered. Her scent marked doorways, chairs, the corner of Mason's desk. Territorial. Possessive. A she-wolf claiming what she believed was already hers.

I said nothing. Just filed it away with everything else.

On the second day, a young Omega named Lily brought fresh linens to the pack house. She was new, transferred from a smaller pack last month. She didn't know the politics yet. Didn't know to guard her tongue.

She was folding towels in the hallway when I passed. She looked up, startled, and dropped into a clumsy bow.

"Luna! I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you—"

"It's fine," I said gently. "You're doing wonderful work, Lily."

Her face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, Luna. I just want to serve the pack well. Especially with everything changing soon."

I paused. "Changing?"

Her eyes widened. She realized her mistake immediately. "I—I mean—nothing, Luna. I just meant—"

"It's all right," I said softly. I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "You can tell me. I won't be upset."

She hesitated. Then, in a rush: "Some of the warriors have been saying that Gamma Selena will be marked soon. That she'll be the new—" She stopped. Swallowed hard. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," I said, keeping my voice warm. Understanding. "I'm glad you told me. It's important that I know what the pack is thinking."

She looked relieved. Grateful. She had no idea she'd just handed me another piece of evidence.

I touched her shoulder. "Keep up the good work, Lily."

She beamed.

I walked away, Silver's growl rising in my throat.

*Future Luna.*

They were already calling her that. Already preparing for the transition. Mason hadn't just betrayed me in private—he'd poisoned the entire pack against me.

That night, Mason came to our bedroom.

I was sitting at the vanity, brushing my hair. He appeared in the mirror behind me, his reflection overlapping mine. For a moment, I saw us as we used to be. Before Boden. Before the title. When he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

Then the scent hit me. Jasmine. Vanilla. Her.

Silver lunged against my ribs.

Mason's hands settled on my shoulders. His touch was warm. Familiar. The mate bond hummed, trying to pull me toward him.

"You've been so good to me these past few days," he murmured. His fingers traced the line of my neck. "I've missed this. Missed you."

I set down the brush. Turned to face him.

His eyes were soft. Affectionate. He actually believed his own performance.

I stood. Let him pull me close. His arms wrapped around my waist. His nose found the hollow of my throat where his mark sat—the bite that was supposed to mean forever.

He inhaled deeply.

I tilted my head, lips brushing his ear.

"I don't smell as sweet anymore, do I?"

His entire body went rigid.

I felt it—the spike of fear. The sudden racing of his pulse. His hands tightened on my waist, not in desire but in panic.

He pulled back just enough to look at my face. His expression was confused. Uncertain. Searching for whether I knew.

I smiled. Soft. Sad. The perfect wounded Luna.

"The healer said my scent might change after the pregnancy," I said quietly. "I hope it doesn't bother you."

Relief flooded his face so fast it was almost comical. He laughed—nervous, too loud.

"Of course not," he said quickly. "You smell perfect. You always do."

Liar.

I turned away, slipping out of his arms. "I'm tired tonight. Is that all right?"

"Of course," he said. But his voice was strained.

I climbed into bed. Felt him slide in behind me. His body pressed against my back. His heart hammered so hard I could feel it through his chest.

He didn't touch me again.

He lay awake all night. I know because I lay awake too, listening to every shift, every breath, every moment of his fear.

Good.

Let him wonder. Let him panic. Let him lie awake trying to figure out if I knew.

Because I did. And I was just getting started.

The next morning, I waited until Mason left for a council meeting. Then I drove to the edge of pack territory, to a small cabin nestled in the woods.

Elder Roland answered on the second knock.

He was older now, his hair more silver than brown, but his eyes were still sharp. He'd served my father for thirty years as Beta. Retired after my father's death. He'd accepted Mason's leadership without protest, the way a good Beta should.

But he'd loved my father. And I was betting he still loved what my father built.

"Luna," he said, surprise flickering across his face. "I wasn't expecting—"

"I need your help," I said quietly.

He studied me for a long moment. Then stepped aside. "Come in."

The cabin was small but tidy. Books lined the walls. A fire crackled in the hearth. I sat at his table and pulled the folded ledgers from my bag.

"I need you to audit these," I said.

He took them slowly. Unfolded the pages. His eyes scanned the columns, the dates, the account numbers.

His expression darkened.

"Where did you get these?" he asked.

"Mason's office."

His gaze snapped to mine. "Macy—"

"I know what you're going to say," I cut him off. "That I'm stressed. That new mothers sometimes imagine things. That the pregnancy was hard on me and maybe I'm not thinking clearly."

He closed his mouth.

"Look at the numbers," I said. "Tell me I'm imagining them."

He looked down. Studied the ledgers in silence. Minutes passed. The fire popped and hissed.

Finally, he spoke. "These accounts don't match pack records."

"I know."

"Funds are being diverted. Significant amounts."

"I know."

"If this is real—" He stopped. Looked at me with something close to fear. "Macy, if this is real, it's treason."

"I know," I said again. "That's why I need you."

He set the ledgers down. Rubbed his face with both hands.

"You're asking me to investigate your mate. The Alpha."

"I'm asking you to protect Silvercrest," I said. "The way you protected it for my father."

Silence.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

"I'll need time," he said. "Access to the full financial records. Quietly."

"You'll have it."

He looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time since I'd arrived. Not as the Alpha's sheltered daughter. Not as the recovering Luna.

As something else.

"You've changed," he said softly.

"Yes," I said. "I have."

I stood. Gathered the ledgers. Turned to leave.

"Macy."

I looked back.

"Your father would be proud."

Something cracked in my chest. Just for a second. Then I smoothed it over. Buried it.

"Thank you, Roland."

I drove back to the pack house. Smiled at the wolves I passed. Played the perfect Luna.

And inside, Silver and I began to plan.

Roland's thumb traced the edge of the ledger page. Back and forth. A nervous habit I'd seen my father's Beta do a thousand times when something troubled him.

"These accounts," he said slowly. "They're registered under shell companies. But the routing numbers—" He tapped a column of figures. "These trace back to Blackthorn territory."

I leaned forward. "How much?"

"Six months of systematic diversion." His voice was flat. Professional. But I saw the muscle jump in his jaw. "Training budgets. Territory maintenance. Emergency reserves. Everything funneled out in amounts small enough not to trigger immediate flags, but large enough to—" He stopped. Looked up at me. "Macy, this is over two hundred thousand dollars."

Silver snarled. I kept my face perfectly still.

"What else?" I asked.

He hesitated. Then reached into the stack of documents I'd brought and pulled out a folder I hadn't seen before. "I cross-referenced the financial records with communication logs. Pack Alphas are required to file reports with the Council of Elders for any inter-pack negotiations. Mason filed nothing."

He opened the folder. Inside were printed transcripts—mind-link communications captured by the pack's official record crystals. Every ranked wolf's links were automatically archived for security purposes. Most Alphas never bothered to read them.

Mason had forgotten they existed.

Roland's finger moved down the page, stopping at a conversation dated three months ago.

*Mason Green to Dorian Voss: The merger terms are acceptable. Silvercrest territory absorbed under Blackthorn governance. I retain co-Alpha authority with full autonomy over former Silvercrest wolves.*

*Dorian Voss to Mason Green: And the Russell bloodline claim?*

*Mason Green to Dorian Voss: Dissolved. The Luna's authority derives from the mate bond. Once I mark my chosen mate, Macy's claim becomes void. No heir, no legacy.*

The words blurred. I blinked hard. Forced them back into focus.

No heir. No legacy.

Boden. He was going to erase Boden's claim too.

Roland's hands trembled as he set the page down. "He's selling your father's pack. Trading it for a title he already stole from you."

"Keep going," I said. My voice didn't shake. I was proud of that.

He pulled out another transcript. This one was dated two weeks ago.

*Mason Green to Dorian Voss: Selena Flores will be marked as Luna before the next full moon. The transition will be seamless. Macy is weak. Her wolf hasn't recovered from the pregnancy. The pack already sees it.*

*Dorian Voss to Mason Green: And if she challenges?*

*Mason Green to Dorian Voss: She won't. She's too desperate to believe I still want her. But if she does, I'll invoke Alpha authority and have her removed as unfit. The pack will support it. They've seen how fragile she's become.*

Fragile.

Silver exploded inside my chest. Not a growl this time. A roar. Pure, incandescent rage.

I pressed my palms flat against the table. Felt the wood grain bite into my skin. Breathed.

Roland was staring at me. Not with pity. With something else. Recognition.

"You knew," he said quietly. "You already knew most of this."

"I suspected."

"And you came to me anyway. To confirm it."

"I need evidence," I said. "Not suspicion. Not intuition. Evidence that will hold up before the Council of Elders. Evidence that will destroy him."

Silence settled between us. The fire crackled. Outside, wind rattled the windows.

Roland studied my face for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. "You have your father's eyes. I didn't see it before. But I see it now."

"Will you help me?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I'll need access to the full pack financial system. Quietly. And I'll need to cross-reference these communications with physical records—meeting logs, territory patrol reports, anything that corroborates the timeline."

"You'll have it."

He gathered the documents, sliding them back into the folder with careful precision. "Macy. When you move against him, it has to be absolute. No hesitation. No room for him to maneuver. If you leave him any opening—"

"I won't," I said.

He believed me. I saw it in the way his shoulders straightened. The way he met my gaze without flinching.

"Your father would be proud," he said again.

This time, I didn't let it crack me. I just nodded. Stood. Turned toward the door.

"Macy."

I looked back.

"You're not fragile," Roland said quietly. "You never were."

I drove back to the pack house with the evidence locked in my trunk and Silver singing victory in my chest. Not yet. But soon.

The next morning, I woke early. Made breakfast. Set Mason's coffee on the counter exactly how he liked it. Kissed his cheek when he came downstairs.

"I thought I'd bring lunch to the pack house today," I said lightly. "For the warriors. They've been training so hard."

Mason smiled. Squeezed my hand. "That's thoughtful. They'll appreciate it."

"I know you have council meetings this afternoon," I continued. "So I'll come by around noon. Before the eastern patrol runs."

Something flickered in his eyes. Just for a second. Then it was gone. "Perfect timing. I'll see you then."

He kissed my forehead. Left.

I watched him go. Then I pulled out my phone and texted Petra, my personal Gamma. The only ranked wolf I trusted completely.

*Eastern grounds. Noon. Keep Mason and Selena occupied.*

Her reply came instantly. *Understood, Luna.*

I spent the morning cooking. Roasted chicken. Fresh bread. Vegetables from the pack gardens. Enough food for twenty warriors. I packed it carefully into insulated containers, arranged everything in baskets.

The perfect dutiful Luna, caring for her pack.

At eleven-thirty, I loaded everything into my car. Drove to the pack house. Smiled at the wolves I passed in the corridors.

Petra met me at the entrance. "They're on the eastern grounds," she said quietly. "Selena's running a drill. Mason's observing."

"How long?"

"At least an hour. I made sure the drill was complicated."

I touched her arm. "Thank you."

She nodded. Took the baskets. "I'll set these up in the dining hall. Take your time."

I walked through the pack house like I belonged there. Because I did. This was my father's house. My bloodline's seat of power. Every stone, every beam, every inch of territory—mine.

Mason's office was on the second floor. Private. Locked.

I pulled the key from my pocket. The one I'd lifted from his jacket two nights ago while he slept. Slid it into the lock. Turned.

The door opened.

Inside, everything was exactly as I remembered. Mahogany desk. Leather chair. Bookshelves lining the walls. My father's sword mounted above the fireplace—the blade that should have passed to me.

I crossed to the desk. Tried the drawers. Locked.

I pulled a thin metal pick from my pocket. Another gift from Roland, who'd taught me how to use it yesterday. It took three tries. Then the lock clicked.

Inside the drawer were files. Contracts. Maps.

And a small velvet box.

I opened it.

A Luna's marking ring. Silver band. Moonstone center. Engraved with Selena's name.

Silver howled.

I closed the box. Set it aside. Pulled out my phone and started photographing everything. Every page. Every signature. Every map showing Silvercrest territory carved up and redistributed under Blackthorn authority.

Every piece of evidence I needed to destroy him.

When I finished, I put everything back exactly as I'd found it. Locked the drawer. Pocketed the key.

Walked out of the office like I'd never been there at all.

Downstairs, the warriors were gathering for lunch. Petra had set everything up beautifully. They thanked me. Called me Luna. Smiled.

I smiled back.

Mason returned an hour later, Selena at his side. Both still in their training clothes. Both smelling of sweat and earth and each other.

He saw me in the dining hall and his face lit up. "This is wonderful, Macy. The warriors are so grateful."

"I'm happy to help," I said softly.

Selena's eyes met mine across the room. That same smirk. That same contempt.

I smiled at her.

She had no idea.

None of them did.