My Alpha Used My Blood to Crown His Luna

The night of the Gala arrived with a steady rain that matched my tears. I stood in my small room, staring at the rogue's body on my bed—a young female wolf with dark hair like mine. Marcus had been thorough in his selection.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to her, though I wasn't sure why. She was already dead, a victim of pack warfare, now to become my substitute in death.

I changed quickly into the plain grey dress I'd worn to the announcement ceremony, then carefully dressed the corpse in my best clothes—the ones I'd hoped to wear to my own Mating Ceremony. The fabric stretched awkwardly over her frame, but in death, she would burn down to bones and ash. No one would notice the difference.

My fingers trembled as I fastened my mother's silver locket around her neck—the only piece of my family I had left. The moonstone pendant caught the dim light, seeming to pulse with a life of its own.

"It has to be convincing," I murmured, arranging her limbs in a natural position.

The Wolfsbane pills waited in a small vial on my nightstand. I'd counted them carefully—enough to stop my heart temporarily and mask my scent completely, but not enough to kill me permanently. At least, that was the theory.

"Three minutes without oxygen after consumption," I reminded myself, tucking the vial into my pocket. "Just long enough to get away."

I dragged the body to Dante's private cabin while the pack celebrated in the main hall. The rain soaked through my clothes, but I welcomed the cold—it kept me alert, focused on each step of my plan.

The cabin was empty, as I knew it would be. Dante would be at the Gala, showing off Amaya to the neighboring packs. I positioned the body on his bed, arranging it as if I'd been surprised during a nap.

"Forgive me," I whispered again, though I wasn't sure who I was asking forgiveness from.

In the kitchen, I found the gas line easily—Marcus had marked it on the diagram he'd given me. One swift cut with the wire cutters, and the sharp smell of gas filled the air.

I returned to the bedroom, struck a match, and touched it to the curtains. The flame caught quickly, spreading up the fabric to the ceiling.

"Now," I told myself, pulling out the vial.

I swallowed the pills in one gulp, feeling them burn down my throat. Immediately, my heart stuttered, then slowed dramatically. My vision blurred at the edges as I stumbled toward the door.

Behind me, the fire roared to life, consuming everything in its path. I made it to the tree line just as the gas ignited with a deafening explosion. The shockwave knocked me to my knees, but I didn't stop.

"Goodbye, Eva," I whispered as darkness claimed me.

---

I woke to screaming. Not mine—his.

Dante's howl of agony cut through the night as I watched from the shadows of the forest edge. The pack had returned from the Gala to find flames engulfing the Alpha's cabin. Now they stood in a circle, watching as their leader clawed through smoldering debris.

"Find her!" he roared, his Alpha tone making several wolves drop to their knees. "Find Eva!"

But there was nothing to find—at least, not the living version of me.

"Alpha," Marcus's voice was steady as he approached. "The fire's too hot. We can't get closer."

"Get out of my way!" Dante shoved him aside, his hands already blistered from digging through the ashes.

I should have felt something—guilt, perhaps, or satisfaction. Instead, I felt hollow as I watched him discover the charred remains of the rogue wolf wearing my locket.

"Eva," he whispered, dropping to his knees beside the body. The locket had fused to the neck bone in the heat, creating a permanent bond between my past and this anonymous corpse.

The mate bond snapped—or so he thought. The sound was audible even from where I hid, a crack in the air that made every wolf within hearing distance whimper in sympathy.

Dante's howl rose again, this time wordless and primal. Windows shattered in the main house as his grief exploded outward in waves of Alpha power.

"No one touch her!" he snarled when two Delta wolves tried to approach. "No one touch my mate!"

He cradled the blackened remains against his chest, rocking back and forth as rain mingled with his tears.

"Alpha," Marcus tried again, his voice gentle. "You need to let her go."

"She's mine," Dante growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Mine!"

I watched Marcus nod to someone behind Dante—the pack healer. A syringe glinted in the firelight as he approached cautiously.

"This will help you rest," Marcus said, plunging the needle into Dante's neck.

Dante's eyes widened, then rolled back as the sedative took hold. His grip on the charred remains loosened just enough for Marcus to pry them away.

As they carried Dante's unconscious form back to the pack house, I slipped away into the darkness, my heart beating steadily again—stronger than it had in years.

Eva Dunn was dead. And I was free.