After My Alpha Chose My Sister Over Me

The morning air bit at my cheeks as Parker led me to a clearing behind the cabin. Snow crunched under my boots—proper boots this time, thick leather ones he'd somehow procured for me. My breath came out in white puffs, but for the first time in weeks, I wasn't shivering.

"You need to learn to protect yourself," Parker said, his voice cutting through the crisp silence. He pulled a dagger from his belt, the blade gleaming silver in the pale sunlight. "The world isn't kind to she-wolves who can't fight back."

I stared at the weapon, my stomach clenching. "I don't know how—"

"You'll learn." He pressed the handle into my palm, his fingers brushing mine. That same electric spark shot up my arm, making my wolf stir restlessly in my chest. "Feel the weight. Get used to it."

For the next hour, he showed me how to hold it, how to thrust, how to block. My movements were clumsy at first, but gradually, something clicked. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was the memory of that feral Lycan's hands on me. But I started to move with purpose.

"Better," Parker murmured, circling me like a predator. "Now, tracking. You need to know when danger is coming."

He knelt in the snow, pointing to barely visible indentations. "Rabbit tracks. See how the back paws land in front? They're running from something." His finger traced another set of marks. "Fox. Hunting."

I crouched beside him, studying the patterns. His scent—pine and something wild and masculine—wrapped around me like a blanket. My wolf pressed against my ribs, wanting to get closer.

"Your turn," he said, standing. "Find my tracks from yesterday."

I searched the clearing, following the faint impressions his boots had left. It was harder than it looked, but slowly, I began to see the story the snow told. Where he'd paused. Where he'd changed direction. Where he'd—

"Good," his voice came from directly behind me.

I spun around, startled, and lost my footing on a patch of ice. I went down hard, but before I could hit the ground, Parker caught me. We tumbled together, and suddenly I was pinned beneath him in the snow, his hands braced on either side of my head.

Time stopped.

His amber eyes were inches from mine, pupils dilated. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell that intoxicating scent that made my wolf howl with recognition. The mate bond—I felt it like lightning in my veins, white-hot and undeniable.

Parker's breathing was ragged. His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. For a heartbeat, I thought he might kiss me. I wanted him to. Heat pooled low in my belly, a sensation I'd never felt with Ryker, not once in three years.

Then Parker jerked back like I'd burned him. He scrambled to his feet, putting distance between us, his jaw clenched tight.

"That's enough for today," he said roughly, not meeting my eyes.

He stalked back toward the cabin, leaving me breathless and confused in the snow.

Later that afternoon, I was cleaning the main room when I noticed a loose floorboard near the fireplace. Curious, I pried it up and found a small iron chest hidden beneath. It was locked, but the key hung on a nail just inside the hiding spot.

My hands trembled as I opened it.

Inside were dozens of letters, all addressed to me in careful handwriting. The dates went back three years—starting just after my forced mating to Ryker. With shaking fingers, I pulled out the first one.

*Angelina,*

*I watched you in the garden today. You were humming that song again, the one your grandmother taught you. Ryker walked past without even looking at you. The bastard doesn't deserve you.*

*I left healing herbs by the eastern border. For your cough. Please find them.*

*Always watching,*

*P*

My heart hammered against my ribs. I grabbed another letter, then another. They were all the same—Parker watching me from the shadows, documenting Ryker's cruelty, leaving anonymous gifts. He'd been my guardian angel for years, and I'd never known.

The last letter was dated just a week before my exile:

*My beautiful mate,*

*I can't stand watching him hurt you anymore. Soon, I'll find a way to claim you properly. I just need to survive long enough to be worthy of you.*

*The exiled king dreams of his queen.*

*Forever yours,*

*Parker*

"You weren't supposed to find those."

I spun around. Parker stood in the doorway, his face a mask of resignation and fear.

"Exiled king?" I whispered, clutching the letters to my chest. "Parker, what does that mean?"

He stepped into the room, his movements careful, like he was approaching a wounded animal. "It means I'm a hunted man, Angelina. It means I couldn't claim you because doing so would have put a target on your back."

"Claim me?" My voice cracked. "You knew? All this time, you knew we were mates?"

His amber eyes met mine, raw with years of suppressed longing. "From the moment I first caught your scent. You were meant to be mine, not his. Never his."

The letters scattered from my hands as the truth crashed over me like a wave.