Scent of Betrayal, Law of the Pack

"And YOU!"

"Scent-stealing wretch—prancing around like you've actually claimed something worth having!"

Aria Nightclaw thrust a claw-tipped finger toward the moonstone pendant glittering against the Omega's throat.

"Unless my senses have failed me entirely, that little treasure was purchased with MY packmate's tribute funds!"

Her hackles rose, a low growl building in her chest.

"Remove it and return it to her. Now."

She lunged forward. The Omega shrieked in terror, but Rogan seized Aria's wrist and flung her aside. She crashed into a carved wooden table, sending bone platters and drinking horns scattering across the stone floor. Then his roar echoed through the den:

"Selene!"

"Is THIS the conduct befitting your bloodline?!"

The Omega cowered against Rogan's broad chest, tears streaming down her delicate features like morning dew on pale petals—the very image of wounded innocence.

"Rogan and I share a true bond!" she whimpered.

"He ceased feeling anything for you long ago!"

"Selene! He doesn't want you!"

Aria was still sprawled on the ground, but that didn't silence her snarls: "I'll tear you both apart—you oath-breaking traitor and your pathetic heat-bait!"

She scrambled to her paws, ready to launch herself at them again. But suddenly... I felt nothing. No fury. No desperation. Just a hollow calm settling over me like fresh snowfall.

I crossed the distance and drew her behind me, positioning myself between her and Rogan. His expression shifted to wariness, his wolf-gold eyes narrowing.

"Apologize to my packmate."

Rogan stared at me as though I'd gone feral.

"Rogan." I'd expected this moment to shatter me—to feel my heart being crushed until I couldn't draw breath. But watching someone else burn with protective rage on my behalf, watching someone fight for me... it cleared my head instead. "Apologize to my packmate."

"You've lost your mind!"

The words barely escaped his throat.

I swung my leather satchel and cracked it across his skull. Then I seized the Omega by her hair and slammed her face into the corner of the table.

"Rogan Ashfen."

My voice was winter ice.

"I will not let this go."

Then I turned, took Aria's arm, and walked out of the waystation den.

She'd only been part of the administrative den for six moon-cycles. I'd trained her myself, guided her from her first day among us.

Now she sat beside me in my traveling carriage, her face creased with worry. But I simply stared at the scent-tagged missives arriving on my communication stone, perfectly calm, as Rogan's messages flooded in:

[Selene! You went far beyond acceptable bounds today!]

[Do you have any idea—someone captured your little display at the waystation and spread it through the pack networks! If this reaches the Council, how is Lyra supposed to show her face?!]

[Send word immediately to clarify this situation. Do that, and I'll pretend nothing happened.]

[Selene, don't forget—your parents have retired from pack leadership. Your entire bloodline depends on MY position now. I'm not the Alpha I used to be!]

Then a bond-request flickered across the stone's surface.

From the Omega Rogan had been so desperate to shield.

Lyra Vulpayne.

She sent mirror-orb recordings. Scent-memory captures. And a message:

[Selene, Rogan stopped feeling anything for you long ago. Staying bonded to you was merely obligation.]

[Since we're all done with pretenses now...]

[Why bother hiding anymore? So what if pack opinion turns against me? The bold ones claim their pleasures first!]

[The more wolves attack me, the more your mate protects me. The better my standing becomes. Believe it or not!]

I watched the mirror-orb recording she'd sent.

Rogan, already making arrangements to transfer territory rights and den resources. His voice carrying through a speaking-stone, giving instructions:

"Separate everything tied to my mating bond with Selene—including my holdings in the outer territories. Transfer all of it into Lyra's name. Make the ward-stone bindings seamless. Selene has zero tolerance for deception, so I need to prepare for the worst."

"Understood, Alpha."

"If Selene can accept this situation, admit she was wrong, and make room for Lyra within our den... then fine. She remains my bonded Luna."

"But if she refuses to know her place?"

"Then I'll make certain Selene ends up with nothing—no territory, no tribute, no pack standing."

I stared at that familiar face in the orb's glow.

A chill seeped through me, settling deep in my bones like silver poison.

The Alpha I'd shared a den with for years—the moment I caught him in his scent-betrayal, his first instinct wasn't fear. Wasn't remorse.

It was demanding that I clear his Omega consort's reputation.