Wearing My Sister's Crown

I watched them disappear inside the pack house, their silhouettes brushing as they walked in sync. My chest aches—deep, primal.

The boy I’d raised, the young wolf I nurtured with every ounce of my soul, couldn’t see beyond the blood in his veins. Instead, he clung to a wolf Marcus dragged home, just because she resembles Kaela.

The storm grew worse, thunder echoing like a growl in the heavens. No cab would come this far into the woods. So I curled up near the wrought-iron gates of the Alpha's estate, drenched and shivering like a rogue left to rot. My wolf whimpered inside me, but I kept her caged.

Just when I thought I’d freeze through the night, the den doors creaked open. One of the Omega servants stepped out, holding an umbrella.

“Luna Brianna,” she said softly. “Alpha Marcus says you may come in.”

My limbs were numb, and my instincts dulled, but I nodded and followed her inside.

The warmth hit me like a slap. Lucas, my pup—not by blood but by bond—lay curled in Ava’s lap in front of the hearth.

Marcus was slicing through blood oranges beside them, a casual domesticity they’d never shown me.

I turned to go upstairs, but Marcus’s voice cut through the silence like claws on bone.

“You know Lucas's stomach can only handle the food you cook. From now on, don’t be gone longer than an hour.”

I gave him a tired smile, fangs just barely showing.

“Then maybe you should find someone who can replicate the recipe. Or teach Miss Ava Blackthorn herself. I wrote everything down. We’ll be divorced soon anyway, remember?”

The fruit knife clanged against the stone plate, sharp and deliberate.

“Brianna,” he growled, stepping forward with Alpha force.

“Have I been too lenient? Is that why you speak to me this way?” His grip on my wrist tightened, leaving a bruise my wolf growled at from within. “You think I won’t mark the end of this bond?”

Of course, he would. He never chose me. I was just the packmate who stepped in after Kaela’s death, for Lucas’s sake. Not his.

I met his eyes, unflinching. “Then ask Lucas if he even wants me around. Ask your son.”

As if summoned by a curse, Lucas's voice cut through the room, venom laced with a wolf’s snarl.

“Dad, I’ve wanted you to leave her for years. I hate her. I like Aunt Ava better.”

Ava quickly pressed a hand to his mouth, feigning shock.

“Lucas, sweetheart, you can’t say that. You’ll hurt your mother.”

But her eyes shone—triumphant.

“She’s not my mother!” Lucas shouted, twisting out of her grasp. “I don’t want a murderer as my mother!”

Murderer.

That word still echoed in my bones from the night I’d ripped through the rogue who nearly killed him—the same rogue Jayden now believes I wrongfully slaughtered.

I looked at Marcus and said flatly,

“There. He’s made it clear. He doesn't want me around. Can we finally get divorced now?”

Marcus’s expression darkened. He turned to Ava. “Take Lucas downstairs.”

She hesitated. The disappointment was palpable. But she obeyed, leading the boy away like he was already hers.

“Why don’t you make her Luna, Marcus?” I asked. “You both want her. I’m tired of carrying this title alone.”

“You’re so quick to throw me to another she-wolf?” His voice was low, dangerous.

I blinked. What the hell is he even talking about?

What did he expect? He’d never shown affection. His heart was buried with Kaela. Ava was just the next ghost to cling to.

But then his expression twisted. He barked over his shoulder,

“Ava. Come back.”

She reappeared, confused. And before she could say a word, he grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward the Alpha’s room.

“You want to see us together, Brianna? Fine. Watch how quickly I replace you.”

He shoved her into the bedroom and slammed the door behind them.

A few moments later, the moans began.

I felt... nothing.

I’d never come here for love. Only to repay a debt to the pack, to Elder Saska. I never let my heart, or my wolf, get too close. Kaela was always his mate, even in death. And now Ava, who looked and smelled like Kaela, had become his second chance.

He should be thrilled.

He should be celebrating.

I checked the time.

My flight out of the territory left soon.

I slid the divorce papers under his door, picked up my travel bag, and descended the stairs in silence.

But just as I reached the front entrance, Lucas blocked the door. His eyes gleamed amber. Shifted.

He kicked my bag over with a feral snarl.

“What? A little drama and now you're leaving? You think Dad will come chasing after you like some romance story? You're pathetic.”

I said nothing. I picked up my bag, calm as a full moon night.

Then he moved.

Lucas lunged, grabbing the same fruit knife from the table, fangs peeking out, the boy not fully in control of his wolf.

And this time, he aimed for the kill.

Right at my chest.