"Sit still, sweetie."
The brake pedal groaned as I stopped at the intersection. I leaned across the center console, pretending to adjust the collar of Caleb's private academy uniform.
His scent hit my nose. It smelled exactly like Seraphina’s perfume. The heavy, floral aroma completely masked whatever natural scent a ten-year-old pup should have carried. Worse—there wasn't a single trace of me on him. Not one.
"Mom, you're choking me," Caleb complained. He swatted at my wrist.
"There's a white hair right here," I lied. My fingers found a thick strand near the nape of his neck. I pinched the root and yanked.
"Ow!"
"Got it," I murmured, keeping my fist tightly closed.
"Why are you acting so weird today?" Caleb asked. He rubbed the red mark on his neck. "Dad said you were stressed out."
"Did he?"
"Yeah. He told me to give you space. Said you were working too hard on the territorial consolidation."
"Your father says a lot of things," I replied. "What else did he say?"
"Just that you need quiet time. Are you mad at him?"
"No, sweetie. I'm not mad."
The light turned green. I steered the SUV into the drop-off lane of the school. My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.
"Bye, Mom," Caleb grumbled. He unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out without looking back.
"Have a good day," I called out.
I watched the heavy iron gates close behind him. Once he disappeared from view, I opened my hand. My fingers shook violently. I pressed the single brown hair onto the sticky edge of a page in my leather notebook and shut the cover with a loud snap.
I threw the car into drive.
The Pack DNA Center smelled of antiseptic and ozone. I bypassed the empty waiting area and slapped my credit card onto the reception counter.
"I need this analyzed immediately," I told the technician. I slid the sealed notebook across the glass.
She opened the cover with a pair of metal tweezers. "Standard processing takes five days, Ms. Voss. Rush is four days."
"Make it faster."
"That requires triple the fee. Plus, we have to run the full Lycan marker panel to get a complete genetic profile."
"Rush it," I demanded.
"I'll put it in the priority queue." She typed rapidly on her keyboard. "We'll email you the results."
"How secure is your system?" I asked.
"State of the art. Only the email on file receives the decryption key."
"Good. Make sure nobody else accesses this file. Not even an Alpha."
She blinked, surprised by the command. "Understood, Luna."
I retreated to a plastic chair in the corner. My neck throbbed. The Mating Mark pulsed, transmitting Kael’s frantic, erratic emotions from across the city. He knew I was digging. The bond felt infected, pushing his panic straight into my bloodstream.
I pulled out my phone and dialed.
"Marek," I said the second the line connected.
"Elara. It's early." The private investigator's voice sounded gravelly. "What's wrong?"
"I need everything you can find on Kael Rourke. Especially the last six months."
"Your husband?" Marek whistled through his teeth. "That's a dangerous game for a Luna."
"Just do it," I ordered. "And find out whether he has paid any witches or purchased restricted spell components."
"Blood magic? That's forbidden. You think he's masking something?"
"I think I don't know the man I married. Send me whatever you find."
"I charge double for Alpha investigations."
"Bill the Silver Moon trust," I said. "And Marek?"
"Yeah?"
"If he catches you, don't try to fight him. Run."
"I know how to handle an Alpha, Elara."
"He's not acting like a normal Alpha right now. Just be careful." I ended the call.
At 3:40 PM, a notification pinged on my screen.
An email from the lab.
I tapped the attachment. A PDF loaded, filled with complex charts and genetic sequences. I bypassed the scientific jargon and scrolled straight to the bottom.
*Based on the tested genetic markers, maternity is excluded. Elara Voss is not the biological mother of Caleb Rourke.*
*Lycan markers indicate paternal lineage consistent with Kael Rourke. No hereditary claim to the Voss Blessed line detected.*
The phone slipped from my grasp. It clattered onto the linoleum floor.
My knees gave out. I slid down the cold, painted wall until I hit the baseboard.
A low, pathetic whine echoed in the empty hallway. It took me a second to realize the sound came from my own throat. The wolf inside my chest clawed at my ribs, howling in sheer agony.
Not my child.
I had raised a boy who wasn't mine for a decade.
One question swallowed every other thought: Where was my baby?
Silence answered.
I grabbed my phone, scrambled to my feet, and ran to the car.
The tires of my SUV screeched as I pulled into the parking structure of the city's largest medical center. Ten years ago, this was the exclusive Pack hospital. Now, it was just another wing in a massive human facility.
I marched straight to the obstetrics department.
Dr. Aris sat behind a massive oak desk. She had been my delivering physician back then. Now, she served as the department head.
"Elara," she greeted, standing up quickly. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "What brings you here?"
"I need my medical records from ten years ago. From my delivery."
Dr. Aris froze. Her scent—usually a calm chamomile—shrank. The subtle shift reeked of fear. It was a tiny tell only another wolf would catch.
"That was ten years ago," she stammered. She shuffled a stack of papers on her desk. "Those files might be archived."
"Find them," I insisted.
"Please, take a seat. I'll have a nurse check the basement storage."
I refused to sit. I paced the length of her office, tracking the minutes on the wall clock.
Twenty minutes later, a young nurse entered and handed Dr. Aris a thin manila folder. The doctor passed it to me across the desk.
I flipped it open.
Three pages.
"What is this?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
"Your file," Dr. Aris replied, avoiding my gaze entirely.
"This shows my admission time, discharge time, delivery method, and birth weight." I shook the flimsy paper in her face. "Where's the rest of it?"
"That's all we have on record."
"A premier Pack hospital doesn't just lose records," I said, my voice dropping an octave. "Where are the labor records?" I challenged, leaning over the desk. "Where are the nurse handoff sheets? The newborn exam? The Lycan marker panel?"
Dr. Aris swallowed hard. Her pulse jumped at the base of her throat. "Standard procedure dictates that physical copies are destroyed after digitization."
"Then show me the digital files."
"I don't have access to the legacy servers."
"Where are the footprints?" I shouted, cutting her off. "The heel prick card? The shifting potential test?"
She shook her head, backing her chair away slightly. "Those should be in the newborn file, but we can't find them."
"You didn't even look!" I slammed my hands on the desk. "Twenty minutes isn't enough time to search a basement archive."
I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. It startled her so badly she flinched.
"You expect me to believe a premier Pack facility just lost an Alpha heir's entire newborn file?"
"Mistakes happen during archiving," she offered weakly.
It was too clean. A missing file. A missing child. A son who shared Kael’s face but carried none of my Blessed markers.
The pieces snapped together, forming a horrifying picture.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. Kael's name flashed on the screen.
I swiped to answer, bringing the speaker to my ear but remaining completely silent.
"Where are you?" Kael demanded. His tone was clipped, authoritative. "I picked up Caleb."
I pressed the red button, ending the call instantly.
My wolf's instincts screamed, tearing at my mind. The answer wasn't at home with my husband. It was right here in this hospital, buried beneath ten years of blood magic and carefully constructed lies.