My Alpha Chose the Fake Luna

I backed away, my silver fur bristling as the massive black wolf approached. My wolf whimpered, torn between submission and flight.

"Mate," his voice echoed in my mind again, deeper this time.

The black wolf shifted, bones cracking as he transformed into human form. Brodie Jensen—the Tyrant Alpha of Silverbane Pack—stood before me, naked and unashamed. Moonlight carved shadows across his muscular frame, highlighting the power coiled beneath his skin.

I shifted back myself, clutching my torn clothes to my chest. "I'm not your mate," I whispered, though my wolf howled in protest.

Brodie didn't advance. Instead, he reached for something behind him—a black leather coat—and held it out. "You're freezing," he said simply.

I hesitated before accepting his offering, the warmth of the jacket engulfing me as I slipped it over my shoulders. It smelled of pine and winter frost—his scent.

"You're safe here," he said, his voice gentler than I expected from someone with his reputation. "No one will hurt you in Silverbane territory."

"I need to go," I said, taking a step back. "I can't stay."

"Where would you go?" His question hung between us, heavy with implication.

I had nowhere. My home had been given to another. My future had been stolen. I was adrift.

Brodie must have read the answer in my eyes. Without another word, he bent and lifted me into his arms.

"I can walk," I protested weakly.

"I know," he replied, carrying me toward a waiting SUV. "But you shouldn't have to."

---

The Silverbane stronghold loomed before us—a fortress of stone and glass that made Crescent Creek's crumbling estate look like a child's playhouse. Warriors nodded respectfully as Brodie carried me through massive iron doors.

"Alpha," they murmured, eyes widening at the sight of their leader carrying a stranger.

Brodie didn't acknowledge them, his focus entirely on me. "You'll stay in the east wing," he said, climbing a sweeping staircase. "Across from my quarters."

"Across?" I asked, confused.

His lips curved slightly. "Close enough to protect, far enough to give you space."

He placed me gently on my feet outside an ornate door. "Rest. Heal. Tomorrow is soon enough for questions."

---

Morning light streamed through unfamiliar curtains when I woke. For one blissful moment, I forgot everything—Carter's betrayal, Alice's smug face, the shattering of my future.

Then reality crashed back.

I dressed quickly in clothes that had mysteriously appeared in the closet—jeans and a sweater that fit perfectly—and made my way downstairs. The kitchen was vast and industrial, nothing like the homey chaos of Crescent Creek's.

A figure stood at the stove, broad shoulders outlined by a tight black t-shirt.

"You're trying to leave," Brodie said without turning.

I froze in the doorway. "How did you know?"

"I felt it." He glanced over his shoulder. "Through the bond."

"There is no bond," I insisted, though my wolf growled in disagreement.

Brodie turned off the stove and faced me. "There is. There always has been."

He moved to the counter and began plating food—bacon, eggs, toast. The domesticity of it struck me like a physical blow.

"Carter never cooked," I blurted out.

Brodie's eyes darkened. "I'm not Carter."

"No," I agreed, watching him carry plates to the table. "You're not."

He pulled out a chair for me. "I've known we were mates since we were children," he said quietly. "I recognized your scent at the inter-pack gathering when we were twelve."

I nearly choked on my coffee. "That was fifteen years ago."

"I waited," he said simply. "For you to grow up. For your wolf to recognize what mine already knew."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Would you have listened?" His gaze dropped to my arms where scars peeked from beneath my sleeves. "These aren't ugly," he said, tracing one with his fingertip. "They're proof of your strength."

I pulled away, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. "I need to get my mother."

"Then we'll get her," he replied without hesitation. "But first, I need you to understand something." His eyes locked with mine. "I'm going to help you destroy those who hurt you. Not because you're weak, but because you're my Queen. An Alpha by blood."

---

Night had fallen by the time we reached Crescent Creek territory. Brodie's Delta warriors moved like shadows through the underbrush.

"Stay close," Brodie murmured, his hand warm against the small of my back.

We slipped through the servant's entrance, the smell of bleach and laundry detergent heavy in the air.

"She works in the laundry room," I whispered, leading the way through narrow hallways.

I found her hunched over a tub of linens, her once-beautiful hair now streaked with gray. She looked up as I approached, her eyes widening.

"Evie?" she breathed.

"Mom," I whispered, pulling her into my arms.

Brodie's warriors secured the area while I explained everything in hushed tones. My mother's fingers trembled as she clutched mine.

"We need to go," Brodie urged, his senses alert for danger.

As we turned to leave, something caught my eye—Carter's office door, slightly ajar.

"I need a minute," I said.

Inside, I found his desk empty—he was probably with Alice. Perfect. I pulled out my knife and carved four words into the polished wood: "War is coming."

Let him wonder when it would strike.