When My Alpha Stripped Me of My Luna Rights

The scent was faint but unmistakable—a mixture of wild sage and something sharper, more acrid. I'd caught it on Eden's clothes three days ago, when she'd brushed past me in the hallway. My wolf had stirred then, whispering *danger* before I could even process what it meant.

Now, following that same scent through the dense forest at the edge of our territory, I moved silently between the trees. The morning mist clung to the underbrush, providing perfect cover as I approached the border.

"You're sure about this?" Marcus had asked when I'd told him my plan.

"Positive," I'd replied, remembering how Dorothy had taught me to track medicinal scents. "This particular blend of herbs isn't found in our territory. Someone brought it from outside."

The campsite appeared suddenly between the trees—a small clearing with the remnants of a fire pit and scattered herbal bundles hanging from nearby branches. But it was abandoned, the ashes cold and the bundles swaying in the morning breeze.

"Too late," I muttered, disappointment washing over me.

But my wolf nudged me forward. *Dig deeper.*

I knelt by the fire pit, my fingers tracing the edges of the stone circle. Something had been buried here recently—the earth was disturbed, still fresh. Carefully, I began to excavate, my Healer's hands working methodically through the soil.

"Got you," I whispered as my fingers closed around leather-bound edges.

The ledger was half-burnt, its pages singed and brittle. I opened it carefully, dusting away dirt to reveal neat columns of transactions. My heart raced as I flipped through, recognizing names of common herbs until—

"Modified Aconite. Special order."

And beside it, a signature I recognized instantly: *Eden Powell.*

Below the transaction was a hastily scrawled note: "Safe passage through Silver Moon territory guaranteed upon completion."

I photographed the page with my phone, then tucked the ledger into my bag. "Evidence," I whispered to my wolf, who purred with satisfaction.

---

Back at the pack house, chaos reigned in the kitchens. Andrew stood over a massive copper pot, his face twisted in concentration as he stirred the contents violently.

"It should be calming," Elder Thomas said, his weathered face creased with concern. "The Grief Tea is meant to bring peace, not agitation."

"I'm doing it right," Andrew snapped, sweat beading on his forehead. "It's these herbs—they're inferior quality."

I lingered in the doorway, watching as he added another handful of dried leaves to the pot. The smell was all wrong—bitter and sharp instead of the soothing lavender and chamomile Dorothy had always used.

"Perhaps Clara could assist?" Elder Isabella suggested, her eyes finding mine across the room.

Before I could step forward, Eden materialized at Andrew's side, her hand resting possessively on his arm.

"Clara gathered these herbs," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Maybe that's the problem."

Andrew's eyes narrowed as he looked at me. "Is that true? Are you sabotaging the ritual?"

"I gathered exactly what Dorothy always used," I replied evenly, though my wolf bristled at the accusation.

"Liar," Eden whispered just loud enough for nearby pack members to hear. "You've been trying to undermine Andrew since his mother died."

The Elders exchanged glances, their faith in their Alpha visibly wavering. One of them stepped back, murmuring something to another council member.

Andrew ladled a spoonful of the tea, taking a cautious sip. His face contorted instantly—the brew was undrinkable.

"See?" Eden hissed. "Even he can taste your incompetence."

---

I was heading to my quarters when Eden cornered me in the hallway, her body blocking my path.

"Enjoying your little investigation?" she asked, her voice no longer carrying the sweet innocence she used around Andrew.

I kept my expression neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb," she sneered, leaning closer. "It doesn't suit you."

Something shifted in her eyes—the mask slipping to reveal the calculation beneath. "You know what? I'm tired of pretending."

My wolf tensed within me, ready for danger.

"That old hag was never going to step aside," Eden continued, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "She was the gatekeeper, always standing between me and what I deserved."

"You killed her," I said quietly, not a question but a statement.

Eden's smile was cold. "I removed an obstacle. Dorothy was too traditional, too tied to the old ways. She'd never let Andrew see how much better things could be with me as Luna."

"You poisoned her."

"Modified Aconite," Eden confirmed, pride evident in her voice. "Untraceable, or so I thought."

I kept my face carefully blank, committing every word to memory even as I cataloged the scent of her arrogance—a mixture of excitement and fear.

"Andrew will never believe you," she continued, leaning so close I could feel her breath on my cheek. "He's too addicted to my praise, too desperate for my validation."

My wolf growled deep within me, but I remained still, watching as Eden's confidence grew.

"He'll always choose me over you," she whispered. "Always."

As she turned to leave, I caught a final whiff of her scent—something new mingling with the familiar herbs. Something that made my blood run cold.

Guilty knowledge.