My Alpha Credited My Work to His Dead Mate

Lightning tore the sky in half, followed by a boom of thunder that shook the very foundation of the Obsidian Pack house. I scrambled backward, jamming myself into the corner of the bedroom, my hands clamped over my ears. It wasn't just the noise. It was the memory. Every time a storm like this hit Silver Creek, Cullen used to lock me in the basement because my flinching "embarrassed" him.

A low growl vibrated through the floorboards. I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting Evander to be angry at my weakness. Expecting punishment.

Instead, a wet nose nudged my elbow. I peeked through my fingers. Shadow, Evander’s massive wolf, loomed over me. He was a creature of nightmares for most—teeth like daggers and fur as black as the void—but his eyes were soft, glowing with liquid silver.

He didn't snap. He didn't posture. Slowly, the giant beast lowered his heavy head and rested it gently in my lap. A deep, rhythmic thrumming started in his chest—a purr. It was a sound I didn’t think wolves could make. My trembling hands uncurled, burying themselves in his thick ruff. The door to the bedroom was open, and I saw Beta Marcus and a few warriors standing in the hall, their jaws slack. Shadow never submitted. But for me, he was a shield.

That peace shattered three days before the showcase.

I was in the detached studio Evander had built for me, finalizing the topography model, when the smell hit me. Not pine or rain, but accelerant. Gasoline.

"Fire!" someone screamed outside.

I spun around. The back wall of the studio was already a curtain of orange flame. The heat punched me in the face, searing my eyelashes. My model—the Phoenix Sanctuary—was on the central table, right in the path of the blaze.

"No!" I didn't think. I dove toward the table.

"Vivian, get out!" Evander’s voice roared over the crackle of burning wood.

A beam crashed down between us. I coughed, smoke filling my lungs, but as the heat blistered my skin, something strange happened. deep in my gut, a spark flared. It wasn't fear. It was a answering heat, a feral growl buried under layers of trauma. For a split second, my vision sharpened, turning the flames into vivid, high-definition color.

Evander barreled through the fire, tackling me just as the roof groaned. He shielded me with his body, hauling me out into the cool night air just as the studio collapsed in a shower of sparks.

I fell to the grass, coughing soot. "The model," I choked out, watching my hard work turn to ash. "It's gone. Cullen wins."

Evander gripped my face, his thumbs smearing the soot on my cheeks. "Look at me. He wins nothing."

He stood up and turned to his pack. The warriors, the healers, even the visiting elders were gathered, watching the flames. "We have the digital backups," Evander announced, his Alpha tone commanding absolute focus. "We have forty-eight hours. We rebuild."

And they did.

I sat in the main hall, stunned, as the Obsidian Pack transformed into an assembly line. Warriors with hands designed for killing were delicately gluing miniature balsa wood trees. Omegas were cutting foam board with surgical precision. Even Beta Marcus was sanding down the edges of the miniature bridges. In Silver Creek, I had been a slave to the pack. Here, the pack was serving me. They weren't doing it because they were ordered; they were doing it because I was their Luna, and my fight was their fight.

We finished with ten minutes to spare.

The Grand Lycan Hall was suffocating, filled with the scents of a hundred different Alphas. When Cullen took the stage, he looked polished, perfect, and completely hollow. He unveiled the "Moonlight Fortress"—my old design—with a tearful speech about Sofia Barnes whispering the dimensions to him from beyond the grave. The crowd ate it up, clapping for the grieving hero.

Then, it was my turn.

My legs felt like jelly as I walked to the podium. I adjusted the microphone, the feedback whining shill. I looked out at the sea of faces—judgmental, bored, dangerous. Then, I found Evander in the front row. He nodded, once.

I took a breath and pulled the sheet off our reconstructed model.

"The Moonlight Fortress is designed to keep enemies out," I said, my voice trembling before finding its steel. "But it also keeps the pack in. It is a cage disguised as a castle."

A murmur went through the crowd. I saw Cullen stiffen.

"I present the Phoenix Sanctuary," I continued, gesturing to the organic curves of the model, the way the structures flowed with the mountain rather than dominating it. "This is not for the Alphas who sit on thrones. This is for the Rogues who have been forgotten. For the Omegas who have been silenced. It is a place where those who have been burned to ash can rise again."

I looked directly at Cullen. "Architecture is not about stone and mortar. It is about the soul. And you cannot build a home on a foundation of lies."

The silence in the hall was absolute. Then, slowly, Evander began to clap.