After My Alpha Gave Our Heir to Rogues

The clock on my office wall ticked past midnight as I hunched over the final pages of the Lycan Treaty appendices. My eyes burned from staring at the screen, but I couldn't afford mistakes. Not when the entire pack's future depended on these documents.

"Just a few more pages," I whispered to myself, rubbing my temples.

The treaty I'd spent six months negotiating would save Silverclaw from financial ruin. The Lycan King's signature was already on the main document, but these logistical appendices needed precision. Every territory boundary, every resource-sharing agreement, every security protocol—all had to be perfect.

I glanced at the stack of files waiting to be organized. Three years of strategic planning, countless sleepless nights, and delicate negotiations had gone into this moment. Yet somehow, I doubted anyone would remember my contribution tomorrow night at the Victory Feast.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. The door opened before I could respond, revealing Nola's perfect smile.

"Still burning the midnight oil, Luna?" she asked, her voice dripping with false concern. "Alpha Travis is wondering where his copies are."

I straightened my spine, fighting the fatigue. "They'll be ready by morning. The territorial appendices require precision."

"Of course they do." Nola stepped closer, her floral perfume overwhelming my senses. Beneath it lurked something else—Travis's cologne. My stomach tightened.

She brushed her long sleeve down over her wrist as she reached for a pen on my desk. "Don't work too hard. Someone might think you're trying to prove yourself."

"I'm ensuring the pack's survival," I replied evenly, though something cold settled in my chest.

Nola's smile widened as she turned to leave. "Oh, I almost forgot. I was helping Alpha Travis get dressed for tomorrow's celebration. He wanted my opinion on which tie best matches his eyes." She paused at the door. "You know how important these public appearances are."

After she left, I tried to focus on the documents, but my mind kept drifting to the faint scent of Travis's cologne on her skin. Was I being paranoid? The thought gnawed at me as I forced myself back to work.

* * *

The grand hall glittered with silver decorations—silver balloons, silver streamers, silver confetti. The Victory Feast was in full swing, pack members mingling and celebrating what they believed was Travis's triumph.

I stood near the back, watching as Travis took the stage. His Alpha aura radiated confidence as he basked in the applause.

"Tonight, we celebrate not just a victory, but a new era for Silverclaw!" His voice boomed across the hall. "This treaty secures our future for generations to come."

The crowd cheered again. I caught Marcus, our Gamma, giving me a subtle nod. At least someone recognized whose strategy had actually secured those borders.

"Now," Travis continued, "I want to thank those who made this possible. First, my Beta assistant, Nola Bailey!"

Nola glided to the stage in a flowing silver dress that caught the light. She bowed her head slightly as Travis placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Nola's tireless assistance made this treaty possible," he announced. "Her attention to detail and late nights working beside me deserve special recognition."

My fingers curled into fists as I watched him present her with a small velvet box. The pack murmured in excitement.

"Open it," Travis urged.

Nola's eyes widened in feigned surprise as she lifted the lid. Inside lay a diamond-encrusted Patek Philippe watch, its intricate design glinting under the lights.

"An enchanted timepiece," Travis explained to the crowd. "Symbolizing eternal time and devotion."

The pack's whispers grew louder. Such a gift was traditionally reserved for...

My heart pounded as Nola fastened the watch around her wrist, pulling back her sleeve to display it prominently. Our eyes met across the room, and her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"And now," Travis said, finally gesturing toward me, "I'd like to acknowledge my Luna."

I walked to the stage, feeling hundreds of eyes on me. Travis's smile didn't look quite right.

"Madeline has always been... practical," he said, his tone shifting. "A thrifty wife is a blessing to any Alpha."

Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"With that in mind," Travis continued, "I have something special for her too."

He pulled out a black permanent marker. The room fell silent as he took my wrist in his hand.

"A timepiece for the one who watches the budget," he announced, drawing a crude watch on my skin with thick black strokes.

Laughter—awkward, uncomfortable—erupted around us. I stood frozen, unable to process what was happening.

"Perfect fit, isn't it?" Travis chuckled.

Across the room, Nola deliberately pulled back her sleeve, the Patek Philippe gleaming on her wrist. She mouthed four words that shattered something inside me: "It fits perfectly."

As I stood there, marker ink drying on my skin, the humiliation crystallized into something harder, colder. Something that would never forget this moment.