I Marked My Sister's Alpha Fiancé

"Take this, Maeve, the storm out there is an absolute nightmare." Thorne shoved his heavy wool trench coat into my arms, the damp fabric releasing a sharp gust of cold air and the suffocatingly sweet lavender perfume of my younger sister, Clara. Resting right on the dark velvet collar was a single, impossibly long strand of platinum blonde hair.

I stared at the bright thread against the black velvet. My own hair is dark, cut sharply at the shoulders. Clara is the only person I know who bleaches her hair to that exact, icy shade.

"You're freezing," I said, my voice tight. I folded the collar inward, hiding the hair from view.

"I parked three blocks away." Thorne rubbed his hands together, his knuckles red from the chill. He kicked off his soaked leather shoes, leaving wet marks on the rug. "Traffic was backed up for miles. I thought that merger meeting would never end."

He stepped closer, leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek. The lavender scent grew stronger, wrapping around my throat like a snare. I turned my head just enough so his lips grazed my jaw instead.

"A long night?" I asked.

"Brutal," he sighed, missing my evasion entirely. "The clients kept arguing over pennies. I need water. Is there any sparkling left?"

"Top shelf of the fridge," I said.

He reached out, his warm fingers brushing my shoulder. "You look pale. Are you feeling alright?"

"Just a headache," I lied, stepping back to hang the coat. "Go get your water."

Thorne walked down the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing against the hardwood.

I stood frozen in the dim foyer. I raised the lapel closer to my face. The floral scent punched me in the lungs. Clara bought that custom blend from a boutique downtown. She wore it everywhere, dabbing it behind her ears and along the curve of her throat. No client meeting smelled like my sister.

I lowered the coat. I pressed the wrinkles flat against my chest, smoothing the velvet the way I always smoothed everything in this house. The strand of platinum hair drifted to the floorboards. I watched it settle against the dark wood.

Down the hallway, the refrigerator door opened. Ice rattled into a glass. Thorne hummed to himself, relaxed, certain I had swallowed his lie whole.

"Find the sparkling water?" I called out. My voice came out perfectly even.

"Top shelf," he answered. "You were right."

"I usually am," I murmured.

I hung the coat on the brass hook by the door. Then I reached into my jacket and pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over the tracking app I had installed the month his pack received the security threat. The red dot still pulsed quietly against the map, harmless, waiting.

I did not open it yet. I had a shift starting in an hour. The motel strip on Route 9 always flooded during a storm like this, and dispatch would need a unit out on patrol.

I slid the phone back into my pocket and picked up my keys.

Tonight, I would do my job. And I would find out exactly where my fiancé went when he thought no one was watching.