The records room smelled like dust and old paper and the faint chemical tang of scent-seal wax. I had spent three years organizing these files. I knew the weight of every binder, the exact angle of every label. I knew which treaty folders had been handled recently and which ones sat undisturbed for months.
So when I pulled the Thornridge correspondence from the third shelf and saw Leanna's handwriting on the contact log, I did not need to guess. I knew.
The log was supposed to be initialed only by the Alpha or his designated representative—which had been me until forty-eight hours ago. Leanna's looping signature sat at the bottom of three entries, all dated within the last week. The reassignments were small. Contact names shuffled. Meeting times altered by thirty minutes. Nothing that would trigger an immediate alarm.
But I had drafted the original schedule. I remembered every name, every time slot, every carefully negotiated detail that had taken me two months to finalize.
I set the folder on the worktable. I pulled my phone from my pocket. I photographed the log, then the altered entries, then the scent-seal on the envelope that had been cracked and resealed—badly. The wax was a slightly different shade. She had not noticed. Or she had not cared.
I moved through the rest of the Thornridge files with the same methodical precision I had used to build them. Four more folders showed signs of tampering. I photographed everything. I copied the images to the secondary archive Jase had set up years ago, the one only he and I knew about. I did not send him a message. Not yet.
My hands were steady. My wolf was still silent.
I put the folders back exactly where I had found them and left the records room without making a sound.
***
Leanna's scent was everywhere now.
Not just in the Luna quarters—I had expected that, and I did not go near them. But in the common areas. In Maddox's office. On the jacket he left draped over the back of a chair in the strategy room, the one I used to borrow on cold mornings when I arrived before dawn to prep alliance briefings.
Jasmine and vanilla and something sharper underneath, like overripe fruit. It clung to every surface she touched, thick and deliberate. Territorial.
I walked through the pack house on my way to the supply depot and passed three wolves I had trained in tactical strategy last summer. One of them—Kira, a Delta with a sharp mind and a sharper tongue—looked directly at me. Then she looked through me. Her gaze slid past my face like I was furniture.
I kept walking.
Genesis caught up with me at the depot entrance. She did not say anything. She just stepped closer, close enough that her shoulder brushed mine as we walked through the door. Close enough that anyone watching would know she was choosing to stand there.
I picked up a crate of wolfsbane tea—standard border patrol supply—and carried it to the loading cart. My knuckles were white around the edges. Genesis saw. She always saw.
She picked up the next crate without a word.
We worked in silence for twenty minutes. When the cart was full, she finally spoke.
"How long are you going to let this go on?"
I did not look at her. "Until I have enough."
"Enough for what?"
"Enough that no one can say I was bitter. Enough that no one can say I imagined it."
Genesis was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded. "Okay."
That was all. She did not push. She did not tell me to leave sooner. She just stood there beside me, her presence a steady weight in a world that had gone liquid and uncertain.
I let myself lean into it. Just for a second.
***
The Thornridge envoy arrived at noon the next day.
I was not invited to the meeting. I was in the east wing, inventorying cleaning supplies, when I heard raised voices from the direction of the Alpha's office.
I set down the clipboard. I walked closer.
The door was open. Inside, Alpha Corran Vale of Thornridge stood with his arms crossed, his face carved from stone. Maddox stood behind his desk. Leanna sat in the chair to his right—the chair that used to be mine.
"Irregularities," Corran said, his voice flat and cold. "Three meeting times that do not match our records. Two contact reassignments we never authorized. And this—" He slapped a folder onto the desk. "—a scent-seal that has been tampered with."
Maddox's jaw tightened. "We can review the—"
"We are done reviewing," Corran interrupted. "Thornridge does not do business with packs that cannot maintain filing integrity. Consider our treaty suspended pending formal investigation."
He turned and walked out. He passed me in the hallway without a glance.
I stood very still.
Inside the office, Leanna's voice was soft and careful. "Maddox, I'm so sorry. I don't understand how this could have happened. Unless... someone with access and a reason to be angry..."
She trailed off. She did not need to finish.
Maddox said nothing for a long moment. Then: "Get Jase. And Vienna."
I turned and walked back to the supply closet. I picked up my clipboard. I made a note about the wolfsbane tea inventory.
My hands did not shake.
Inside my chest, where my wolf had been, that cold sharp thing watched and waited.
