They Bet I’d Never Shift, Then the Alpha King Called Me His Mate

By the time I reached Birch Street that afternoon, someone was already prying Grandma's name off the door.

A worker in a paint-stained hoodie had a crowbar wedged behind the brass plate. *Dr. Ruth Calloway, Pack Healer.* One screw popped loose, then the second, and the plate tipped forward.

"Toss it in the bin," he called over his shoulder.

I caught it before it hit the gravel. The brass was warm from the sun and heavier than I remembered.

Inside, through the open door, I heard my mother's voice.

"And this whole waiting room comes out," she was saying. "Picture a marble reception desk right here, sweetheart. Somewhere your VIP clients can sit without looking at a bunch of limping farmhands."

Vanessa stood beside her in white jeans, nodding, one hand resting on the back of Grandma's old wooden bench like she already owned it.

"Mom."

They both turned. My mother's smile tightened at the corners.

"Aria. You shouldn't be here. They're working."

"I noticed." I set the nameplate on the front counter and pulled a blue folder from my bag. "The probate cleared last month. The deed was recorded in my name on the fourteenth." I laid the papers flat so the county seal faced up. "Nobody authorized construction on my property. Everyone stops. Right now."

The worker with the crowbar glanced at a heavyset man holding a clipboard by the window. The foreman, I guessed.

"Ma'am, we were hired by the family," he said.

"I'm the family that owns it." I held out my hand. "I'll take the keys. And the equipment inventory."

Vanessa laughed softly. "Aria, you're being dramatic again."

---

My father came through the back hallway, drying his hands on a paper towel. He took one look at the deed on the counter and his jaw set.

"Put that away," he said. "This project is tied to Cole's wedding. The Maddox family's already told half the pack. You want to humiliate them twice in two days?"

"I didn't sign anything."

"I signed for you. I'm your father."

"Then let's fix that." I turned to the foreman. "Whatever permission you were given, it didn't come from me, and I'm withdrawing it. You can send your invoice to whoever hired you. If anything else comes off a wall, I'll call the pack council."

The foreman looked at my father for a long moment. Then he tucked his pencil behind his ear.

"Pack it up, guys."

The crowbar clattered into a toolbox. My father's face went a dull red.

"You've lost your mind," he said quietly.

"No. I've read my grandmother's will."

Martha, Grandma's nurse for twenty-two years, had been hovering in the exam room doorway the whole time. Her gray braid was pinned up, and she was holding a ring of keys against her chest like she'd been protecting them.

"Martha," I said. "From now on, schedules, supplies, anyone who wants to come in here, you check with me directly. Not my parents. Not Vanessa."

Her eyes went glassy. "Your grandmother said you'd come back." She pressed the keys into my palm. "The inventory's in her office. So are her private files."

Behind me, Vanessa's heels scraped against the tile as she left without a word. My mother followed her.

My father stayed long enough to say, "Don't expect help from us," and then the door banged shut.

---

Grandma's office smelled like dust and peppermint. Her handwriting covered everything, from the patient cards to the cabinet labels to the sticky notes on the lamp.

I went through the equipment list first, then her personal ledgers. She kept records of everything she dispensed, even the small stuff. Willow bark. Burn salve. Sleep drops.

Three years ago. The morning of my first shift.

*V. Price. Moonveil tablets, 2. Requested for "cramping."*

I read it twice. Moonveil wasn't a cramp remedy. Grandma had taught me that when I was twelve. It suppressed the shift. Healers used it on pups who changed too early, to slow the bones down.

In the margin, in pencil, Grandma had written: *Dose seems high. Ask her again.*

There was nothing after that.

It didn't prove Vanessa had given it to anyone. It didn't prove she'd given it to me. But my hands weren't steady when I pulled the page from the binder and photographed it front and back.

I texted Eva. *Can you verify this entry and the dosage? I need to know what this dose would do.*

Her reply came in under a minute. *Bring the original. I'm at the guesthouse.*

For three years, I'd believed my body just failed. That I was the girl who couldn't shift.

Now I wasn't sure it had been my body at all.

---

The Northern delegation had taken over the entire second floor of the Moonridge guesthouse. Eva met me in the sitting room, reading glasses pushed into her dark curls, a laptop open on the coffee table.

She took the ledger page with gloved fingers and slid it into a clear sleeve.

"I'll have our lab look at the ink date and cross-check the batch," she said. "Don't tell anyone you have this."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good." She turned the laptop toward me. "Now. The other reason you're here."

The screen showed a contract. *Appointment: Director, Northern Territories Rehabilitation Program — Moonridge Site. Aria Reed.*

My name, spelled right, above a signature line.

"The committee approved you six weeks ago," Eva said. "Before you ever bought your train ticket. The team's just been waiting for you to secure the building."

"I secured it about an hour ago."

She smiled for the first time. "Then sign."

I did. She countersigned, then scrolled to the site plan. Grandma's clinic was on the first page, with Northern funding and new equipment listed in neat rows.

"One change," I said. "I want thirty percent of the rehab slots kept low-fee. Sliding scale."

Eva raised a brow. "That'll cut into the budget."

"Grandma treated people nobody else wanted. Old wolves who couldn't pay. Pups whose shifts went wrong." I tapped the screen. "Vanessa wanted to put a marble desk where they sit. I'm keeping the bench."

Eva studied me, then typed it in.

"Done."

---

She left to take a call. I was gathering my folder when the door opened again.

Kael walked in, still in a dark suit from whatever council meeting he'd sat through, loosening his tie with one hand. He stopped when he saw me.

We'd emailed for months about the program. We had never been alone in a room.

The air changed. It was warm and sudden, like stepping too close to a fire. I felt it under my ribs, a pull so strong I had to lock my knees. He smelled like cedar and cold rain, and something in me recognized it before my mind caught up.

He took one step toward me.

My shoulders went rigid on their own.

Kael stopped. He didn't move closer. He just stood there, hands open at his sides.

"You feel it too," he said quietly.

"Yes."

"Then I'll say this once." His voice stayed even. "You don't have to decide anything today. Or this week. I'm not going anywhere."

My throat tightened. Nobody had given me room in a long time.

"Eva told me about last night," he said. "The video. The betting."

"It's still up. The poll's at ninety-four percent."

"And the Hunt's tomorrow." He watched my face. "What do you want me to do?"

I could've asked him for anything. He was the Northern Alpha, and one word from him would've shut the livestream down.

"Let me run it," I said. "All of it, on my own. Then come find me at noon."

He was quiet for a second. He didn't argue.

"Noon," he said. "I'll bring you a bottle of water."

The corner of his mouth lifted, and he stepped back to let me pass.

My legs were shaking by the time I reached the stairs. Tomorrow, the whole pack would be watching to see me fall again.

This time, someone would be waiting at the finish line.