My Mate Lied About My Death to Steal My Pack

The howls grew louder. More desperate.

I didn't wait for Xavier's response. The lock on my door was cheap, designed to keep in someone who didn't know how to break it. I had the tumblers picked in under thirty seconds.

The guards were gone—probably pulled to deal with the alarm. Good.

I moved through the pack house like water, silent and fast. Aurora surged forward in my mind, eager for the hunt. The eastern border was two miles through dense forest. Derek's squad would be there in ten minutes. The rogues would hit them in five.

I shifted mid-run, my bones cracking and reforming with practiced ease. My silver-white wolf form was smaller than most Alphas, built for speed and stealth rather than brute force. Exactly what the Northern Territories had trained me for.

The forest swallowed me whole.

I caught Derek's scent first—young, nervous, trying too hard to be brave. His squad of six moved in a tight formation, weapons drawn but held wrong. They were expecting a small incursion. Maybe three rogues, max.

They had no idea.

I circled wide, staying downwind. The rogue pack was larger than I'd sensed through the link. Fifteen, maybe twenty. They moved with the coordination of wolves who'd hunted together before, flanking Derek's position from three sides.

This wasn't random. This was planned.

The first rogue struck before Derek's squad even knew they were surrounded. A massive gray wolf took down the rear guard, teeth sinking into his shoulder. The Delta's scream cut through the night.

Chaos erupted.

I didn't think. I just moved.

The Northern Territories had taught me to fight like a ghost—silent, lethal, gone before anyone realized you were there. I hit the gray wolf from behind, my jaws closing around his spine. He dropped without a sound.

Two more rogues turned toward me, but I was already gone, melting back into the shadows. They saw nothing but silver light and the scent of ozone.

I struck again. And again.

Each kill was surgical. Precise. I didn't waste energy on displays of dominance or prolonged fights. I found the weak points—throat, spine, major arteries—and I ended them.

Derek's squad rallied, fighting back-to-back now. They were holding, barely. But three of them were already down, bleeding into the forest floor.

A massive black rogue, clearly the leader, lunged for Derek's throat. I intercepted mid-leap, my smaller frame using momentum to knock him off course. We rolled, a tangle of fur and fangs. He was stronger, but I was faster.

I went for his eyes first, blinding him. Then his throat.

He died choking on his own blood.

The remaining rogues broke and ran. Smart. I let them go.

Derek stood in the center of the carnage, his wolf form trembling. His squad gathered around him, staring at the bodies. At me.

I met Derek's eyes for one long moment. Recognition flickered there—something familiar in the way I moved, the silver of my fur.

Then I turned and vanished into the trees, leaving only the scent of ozone and silver in my wake.

---

I was back in my locked room before anyone noticed I'd left.

The commotion started an hour later. Voices in the hallway, running footsteps. Xavier's Alpha tone booming through the pack house, demanding answers.

I sat on my bed, perfectly still, and listened.

"—saved us, Alpha. I swear it. A silver wolf, like nothing I've ever seen—"

"You're hallucinating from blood loss!" Xavier's voice cracked like a whip. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the walls. "There is no silver wolf. You failed to secure the border, and now you're making up stories to cover your incompetence!"

"But Alpha, the rogues—"

"Were handled by my warriors. Your warriors. Not some phantom."

Silence. Then Marcus's voice, quiet but firm. "Xavier, the boy is telling the truth. I can smell it on him. Something was out there."

"Are you questioning me, Beta?"

The pause stretched too long.

"No, Alpha," Marcus finally said. But I heard the doubt in his voice. The first crack in his loyalty.

Good.

---

Baylee came to visit me the next morning.

She swept into my room like she owned it, wearing a designer dress that probably cost more than the medical supplies Xavier had cut from the pack budget. Her phone was out, of course, recording everything.

"I have news," she announced, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She held up a small white stick. "I'm pregnant."

I looked at the positive test, then at her face. She was glowing with triumph.

"Xavier's pup," she continued. "The true heir to the Silver Moon Pack. Once he's born, you'll be executed for treason. Xavier promised."

Aurora stirred in my mind, but I kept my expression neutral. I inhaled deeply, using the enhanced senses the Northern Territories had sharpened to a razor's edge.

And I smelled it.

Rot. Decay. The sickly-sweet stench of something dying from the inside out.

It came from her womb.

The pup she carried wasn't healthy. It was corrupted, poisoned by Xavier's weak, depraved wolf. I'd heard of it before—Never-Shifts, pups born to corrupted fathers who would never awaken their wolves. They lived half-lives, neither fully human nor fully wolf, often dying young.

Baylee had no idea she was carrying her own tragedy.

"Congratulations," I said softly.

She frowned, clearly expecting more of a reaction. "You're not even going to beg? Plead for your life?"

I met her eyes. "Why would I? You've already lost."

Her face twisted with rage. She stepped closer, her phone still recording. "I haven't lost anything. I'm going to be Luna. I'm going to have Xavier's heir. And you're going to die knowing you were replaced by an Omega."

I smiled. "Keep telling yourself that."

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

I sat back down on the bed, my mind already moving to the next step. Xavier's corruption was deeper than I'd thought. He wasn't just stealing my legacy—he was poisoning the future of the pack itself.

And Baylee, desperate and blind, had tied herself to a sinking ship.

The Moon Goddess had a cruel sense of justice.