I waited until Ryder left for what he called a 'regional Alpha briefing' before I moved.
The briefing was real—I'd confirmed it through the Pack Alliance network. But the system showed him crossing into Sector Seven thirty minutes after departure, heading southwest toward the border. Same pattern. Same lie.
I gave him a twenty-minute lead, then shifted.
My wolf surged forward, gray fur rippling in the late afternoon light. The transformation still hurt after all these years—bones reshaping, senses sharpening—but I welcomed the clarity it brought. In wolf form, I couldn't lie to myself. Couldn't suppress what I smelled.
Cedar. Strong and fresh, cutting through the forest. And underneath it, threading through the underbrush like smoke: that synthetic-floral wrongness I'd been smelling on Emilia since she was born.
I'd told myself it was baby powder. Laundry detergent. Something mundane.
My wolf had always known better.
I followed the trail southwest, staying low and quiet. The scent led me to the narrow access road I'd found last week, then across the territory border into Bellevue. Human territory. Neutral ground where pack law didn't reach.
Smart.
I shifted back behind a cluster of pine trees, pulling on the clothes I'd stashed earlier. My hands were steady as I buttoned my jacket. My pulse was calm.
The trail continued down a quiet residential street lined with modest houses and well-kept lawns. Nothing ostentatious. Nothing that would draw attention. At the end of a cul-de-sac, partially hidden by wolfsbane hedges, stood a single-story den with warm lights glowing in the windows.
I stopped at the hedge line. Wolfsbane burned faintly against my skin—not enough to harm, just enough to warn. A deliberate barrier. Ryder had planned this carefully.
Through the front window, I could see into the living room.
Ryder sat at a wooden table, relaxed in a way I hadn't seen in years. His shoulders were loose. His jaw wasn't tight. He was smiling at something off to the side, his expression open and unguarded.
Then Emilia ran into view.
My breath stopped.
She was laughing, her dark hair flying behind her as she threw herself into someone's arms. Aria caught her easily, lifting her up and spinning her once before setting her down. Emilia wrapped her arms around Aria's waist and pressed her face against her stomach.
"Love you, real Luna Mom," she said, voice muffled but clear.
Aria stroked her hair. "Love you too, sweetheart."
My claws pierced my palms before I realized I'd shifted them. Blood welled hot and slick between my fingers. I forced them back, human nails digging crescents into torn skin.
Ryder stood and crossed to them, wrapping his arms around both. A family embrace. Comfortable. Practiced. Real.
I watched Emilia tilt her face up to him, watched him kiss her forehead the same way he used to kiss mine. Watched Aria lean into his side with the ease of a mate who knew she belonged there.
The den was decorated for winter. A small tree in the corner, lights twinkling. Stockings hung on a mantle I recognized from the social media post. Framed photos on the walls—I was too far to see details, but I could guess what they showed.
A decade. He'd built a decade of this.
My wolf was utterly still. Not pacing. Not growling. Just watching with the cold focus of a predator assessing prey.
I stood there until the light began to fade, until Aria started setting the table for dinner and Emilia ran to help her. Until Ryder pulled out his phone, probably checking the time, probably calculating when he needed to leave to maintain the fiction.
Then I turned and walked back through the dark.
I didn't shift. Didn't run. Just walked, one foot in front of the other, blood drying on my palms.
By the time I reached the border, the moon was rising.
***
Felicity met me at the clearing two hours later. She took one look at my face and set down her folio.
"You found it," she said.
I nodded.
"Tell me."
So I did. The den. The wolfsbane hedges. The warm lights and the family dinner and Ryder's unguarded smile.
Emilia calling Aria 'real Luna Mom.'
My voice was steady through all of it. Clinical. Factual. I described the layout of the den, the position of the windows, the security camera mounted above the front door.
Then I got to Emilia's laugh—that bright, unguarded sound I knew better than my own heartbeat—and my throat closed.
I stopped speaking. Pressed my fingertips against my wrist. Counted my pulse.
Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
Felicity didn't move. Didn't offer comfort or platitudes. Just waited, pen poised over her notepad, until I could continue.
At sixty seconds, I started again.
"They looked happy," I said quietly. "All three of them. Like a real family."
Felicity wrote something down, her handwriting sharp and precise. When she finished, she looked up.
"We need that den's security footage," she said. "Give me three days."
"How?"
"Smart home systems require wolf-ID registration for territory compliance. It's a legal requirement even in neutral zones." She tapped her pen against her lip. "Most wolves use default security settings. If Ryder registered that system, I can exploit the firmware vulnerability and pull the footage remotely."
"Three days," I repeated.
She met my eyes. "Three days. And Lina—once I pull this, there's no going back. You'll see everything. Every moment they've had in that den. Every lie he's lived."
I looked down at my palms. The claw marks had already healed, but I could still feel where they'd been.
"Pull it," I said. "All of it."
Felicity nodded once and closed her folio. "Then we'd better get to work."
