My Alpha Tried to Kill Me for Power

The scent-masking herbs burned against my skin as I rubbed them into my wrists and neck. The acrid smell made my nose twitch, but it was necessary. Without it, any Rogue within a mile would smell my pack affiliation.

"Remember," I whispered to myself as I adjusted my worn jacket, "you're just a lost traveler. Nothing more."

No Man's Land stretched before me—a lawless territory where pack laws didn't apply and rogues roamed free. The evening shadows cast long fingers across the barren landscape as I approached the ramshackle buildings that made up the Rogue encampment.

I kept my head down, my steps unsteady—the perfect picture of vulnerability. A few rogues glanced my way, but none paid me much attention. To them, I was just another human wandering too close to their territory.

"Got anything to trade?" A burly rogue with a scarred face blocked my path.

I fumbled in my pocket, producing a small vial of healing herbs. "Just this. I'm looking for water."

He snatched the vial, examining it before jerking his thumb toward a dilapidated warehouse. "Water's that way. But you'll need more than herbs to get it."

I nodded gratefully, slipping past him. My heart hammered against my ribs as I made my way toward the warehouse. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I forced myself forward.

The warehouse door hung crooked on its hinges. I slipped inside, the darkness swallowing me whole.

---

The metallic tang of blood hit me first, followed by the guttural moans of someone in agony.

"Please... make it stop..."

I pressed myself against the wall, straining to see through the dim light. In the center of the room, a young wolf—no more than sixteen—writhed on the floor. His body contorted grotesquely as he shifted between forms, never settling in one place.

"Silver Dust," a gruff voice said. "Best product on the market. Forces the shift whether you want it or not."

I edged closer, pulling out the small camera I'd concealed in my boot. The young wolf's eyes rolled back as another wave of pain hit him.

"That's the tenth shipment this month," another voice said. "Grant's boys are getting greedy."

My finger froze on the camera button. Grant? As in Damien Grant?

"Speaking of which," the first voice continued, "where's our payment? We've got crates piling up."

"Relax. The money's coming. Just load the trucks."

I carefully positioned the camera to capture the exchange. My gaze fell on a stack of wooden crates nearby. Each bore a distinctive mark—a crescent moon with a slash through it. My breath caught. That was the mark of Blackwood Industries, a supplier Damien had claimed to have destroyed years ago when he took over as Alpha.

"Liar," I whispered under my breath.

---

The rafters of the warehouse creaked beneath my weight as I shifted position. Below, the rogues had moved their operation to another room, giving me a moment's reprieve.

I needed to get closer to their communications center. If I could record their plans, maybe I could finally prove to Damien that—

"—tardiness is becoming a problem."

The voice came from my left. I froze, then slowly turned toward the sound.

A tall, lean rogue with piercing blue eyes paced below, a satellite phone pressed to his ear. Kael—the Rogue leader whose name I'd heard whispered in fearful tones back at the pack house.

"The shipment was supposed to be here yesterday," he growled. "My buyers are getting impatient."

I edged closer, my camera ready.

"If you want to keep this arrangement," Kael continued, "you need to be more reliable. I've got wolves dying out here because of your delays."

There was a pause as he listened to the response.

"Fine. But next time, I expect compensation for the inconvenience." He ended the call with a vicious jab at the button.

I kept my breathing steady, though my mind raced. Who was he talking to? The supplier? Another distributor?

Then Kael dialed another number.

"It's done," he said after a moment. "But I'm not happy about the delay."

My blood turned to ice as I recognized the voice that answered.

"You'll get your share, Kael. Just make sure the Silver Dust keeps flowing. The pack needs it."

Damien.

The camera slipped from my fingers, clattering against the wooden beam. Kael's head snapped up, his eyes locking on mine.

"Intruder!" he roared.

I bolted, my heart pounding in my ears as I leapt from the rafters and sprinted toward the exit.

---

The forest blurred around me as I ran, branches whipping against my face. Behind me, the sounds of pursuit grew louder—snarls and howls as the rogues shifted and gave chase.

"Damien," I gasped into the mind-link, my lungs burning. "It's a trap! Kael is your partner! I'm compromised at Sector 4, send backup!"

I stumbled over a root, catching myself against a tree trunk. The pack mind-link hummed with activity, but Damien's response wasn't among them.

"Please," I whispered, pushing myself forward again. "Please answer."

The howls grew closer. I could hear them coordinating, surrounding me. My legs trembled with exhaustion.

"Damien!" I called again, desperation clawing at my throat.

Silence.

And then, a single thought pierced through the chaos—*Run, Estella. Don't look back.*

But it wasn't Damien's voice. It was someone else entirely. Someone whose presence in my mind felt like ice water in my veins.

Who else was watching me die?