My Mate Faked Death to Steal My Luna Title

Three weeks after I buried my mate, his twin brother called a council meeting to discuss territorial transition procedures.

I sat at the far end of the Silverfang pack council table, in the seat I'd occupied since my eighteenth birthday when my father formally named me future Luna. The wood was old oak, scarred from decades of claws and arguments. I kept my hands folded on the surface and my expression carefully blank. Grief was expected. I wore it like armor.

"Kody Sullivan" stood at the head of the table, shuffling through documentation my father's Beta had prepared. He looked exactly like Cole—same dark hair, same sharp jawline, same broad shoulders that filled out his shirt in a way that used to make my wolf purr. The resemblance was perfect because they were identical twins. Estranged, Cole had said. Hadn't spoken in years. Kody lived out west somewhere, running a small territory Cole never talked about.

Now Kody was here, stepping into his dead brother's role. Helping with the transition. Being respectful and competent and saying all the right things about honoring Cole's legacy.

I wanted to believe it. I'd spent three weeks trying to believe it.

The council members—five senior wolves, my father's loyalists—listened as Kody outlined the procedural steps for transferring Alpha authority in the event of a death without a direct heir. His voice was steady. Professional. He moved around the table, handing each council member a packet of forms that needed signatures.

When he reached my seat, he leaned close to set the documents in front of me.

That's when I smelled it.

Pine and cedar. Sharp and clean, with an undertone of earth after rain. The exact scent that used to cling to Cole's skin when he came to bed. The scent that belonged to my fated mate—molecularly unique, Moon Goddess-ordained, unmistakable to the wolf bonded to it.

*Mate,* my wolf howled inside my chest.

Not Kody. Cole.

The world didn't tilt. It restructured. Every piece of the past three weeks snapped into a different configuration, and the picture that emerged was so clear I couldn't believe I'd missed it.

The rogue attack had happened at dawn, in the woods near the eastern border. Cole's patrol had been alone—no witnesses except the two wolves who found the "body" hours later, both newer pack members I didn't know well. The funeral had been closed casket. Too much damage, they'd said. A proper burial would dishonor what remained.

Kody had arrived within forty-eight hours, paperwork already in hand.

The territorial transfer documents had started moving through the council within a week. Efficient. Respectful. Necessary, Kody explained, because the Griffin bloodline's ancestral claim needed a supervising Alpha during my "grief period" or the Alpha Council might appoint an outside arbitrator.

I'd signed papers because I was too numb to argue. I'd stepped back from Luna duties because everyone told me to rest, to heal, to let Cole's family help.

I'd been compliant. Grief-stricken. Manageable.

I went very still.

Across the table, I saw Ivey Murphy—my Beta, my best friend since we were fifteen—lift her head sharply. She was watching me the way she always did, reading the things I didn't say. Her dark eyes narrowed a fraction. That particular stillness of mine was a signal she'd learned to recognize. Danger. Threat. Incoming.

The council members kept talking. Kody returned to the head of the table and continued his presentation. Something about arbitration timelines. I didn't hear it. My mind was elsewhere, pulling up every memory, every interaction, every tiny inconsistency I'd dismissed as grief playing tricks.

Kody's hands moved the same way Cole's did—sharp, economical gestures when he was making a point. He drank his coffee black, two sugars. Cole's exact preference. He'd referenced a vacation Cole and I took to the coast last summer, a detail Kody shouldn't have known because Cole said they hadn't spoken in years.

The scent didn't lie. Wolves could fake appearances, voices, mannerisms. But a mate's scent? That was written into biology. The bond didn't make mistakes.

Cole was alive. He was standing fifteen feet away, wearing his brother's name like a coat, and he was systematically stealing my bloodline's territory while I played the role of grieving, compliant widow.

Something cold and sharp settled in my chest where the grief used to be. It felt like clarity. Like purpose.

I stayed in my seat until the meeting ended. I shook hands. I nodded at the appropriate moments. I thanked Kody for his help with the transition, and my voice didn't shake once.

That night, I shifted and ran.

Ivey caught up to me before I reached the ridge. She always did. She matched my pace without a word, her gray wolf a steady shadow beside my tawny one. We ran until my lungs burned and my legs ached, until the rage in my chest had somewhere to go besides inward.

When I finally stopped at the overlook—the high point where you could see the whole valley and the forest beyond—I shifted back. The night air bit at my skin. Ivey shifted beside me, silent and waiting.

I stared at the dark trees below and said, "Cole is alive."

Her breath caught. I heard it. But she didn't interrupt.

"He's wearing Kody's face," I continued. My voice sounded flat. Empty. "I caught his scent at the council meeting. Pine and cedar. Exactly the same. He faked his death. He's stealing my territory. I need you to help me destroy him."

There was no hesitation. Ivey's answer came swift and sure. "Tell me where to start."

I turned to look at her then. Her face was hard in the moonlight, her jaw set. She wasn't asking questions. Wasn't doubting me. Just ready.

"We build a case," I said. "Something the Alpha Council can't ignore. I need every document he's filed since the funeral. Every procedural irregularity. Every witness who might know something doesn't line up."

"I'll start tonight," Ivey said.

I nodded. We shifted again and ran home in silence.

Over the next forty-eight hours, I compiled everything. I pulled every territorial transfer document "Kody" had submitted to the pack council since Cole's supposed death. I cross-referenced signatures against the samples in our archives. I checked procedural timestamps. I noted which council witnesses had been present for which filings.

Three documents had irregularities. Small ones—administrative details that most wolves would dismiss as clerical errors. But I wasn't most wolves. I was a Luna who'd spent her entire life preparing to run this territory, and I knew what a legitimate Alpha transition looked like.

I photographed every page. I saved copies in three separate locations.

Then I sent Ivey to the border. We had a rogue informant out there, a wolf named Dax Mercer who traded in information and owed me a favor. If Cole had staged a rogue attack, someone had to have been paid to play dead or look the other way.

Dax would know. And Ivey would get it out of him.

I sat alone in my office, staring at the evidence spread across my desk, and allowed myself one moment of feeling. The bond ached. A phantom pain where the mate connection used to sing. Cole had broken something sacred, something I'd trusted with my whole heart.

But I wasn't broken.

I was going to bury him for real this time.