Alina
I didn’t cry.
Not when Alpha Soren presented Evelina as though she were something sacred, untouchable, irreplaceable. Not even when the pack’s gaze shifted toward her with open admiration and toward me with quiet pity that stung worse than any insult.
I refused to cry.
Instead, I drifted through the packhouse like something unseen, something already forgotten, even though I had once believed this place would always be mine.
Five years. Five years of loving him without hesitation. Five years of enduring the elders’ cold stares, the warriors’ silent judgment, and the maids’ hushed whispers that followed me wherever I went. I bore every word and every look because I convinced myself love made it worthwhile. I told myself birth meant nothing, that being a maid did not decide what I could become.
He chose me, I used to believe.
But now the truth had taken shape too clearly to deny. He had never chosen me at all. He had mistaken me for someone else.
And even after realizing I wasn’t Evelina, he kept me near—not out of love, but because I resembled a memory he couldn’t release.
So what was I to Alpha Soren? Never his Luna. Never his equal. Only a substitute wearing someone else’s shadow.
Evelina and Gideon, heirs of the Crosswell Pack in the south, had arrived recently, and the pack spoke of them with clear admiration. Crosswell was known for its wealth, its strength, and its influence among allied territories. Their visit was described as a simple “vacation,” but no one truly believed that. Alphas did not cross into another Alpha’s lands without purpose.
There were always intentions beneath such visits. Often, arrangements. Sometimes, unions meant to bind power together.
The morning after they arrived, I went looking for Soren. I needed to hear him, even if the truth would hurt. Even a lie would have been easier than being left alone in silence.
I stopped a maid passing through the kitchen.
“Have you seen the Alpha?” I asked, steadying my voice.
She avoided my eyes. “He’s likely occupied, Miss Alina.”
“Likely,” I repeated softly.
“He usually tells me when he has meetings,” I added.
Her mouth tightened. “He’s with important guests.”
Important guests. I nodded once and stepped aside, though something inside me felt heavier than before. There had been a time when I always knew where he was. When he left, he told me—no matter how trivial it was. A patrol. A meeting. Even a brief errand.
Now I had to ask like a stranger.
Still, I went to his office.
The door was slightly open, and voices drifted out from within.
Hers.
I pushed it gently.
Soren stood by his desk, sleeves rolled up, expression focused. Evelina sat comfortably on the sofa, legs crossed with effortless elegance, reading through documents as if she had always belonged there.
They both looked up when I entered. His expression softened for a fleeting moment, instinctive, before hardening again.
“Alina,” he said flatly. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m busy.”
The words landed heavier than they should have.
I glanced toward Evelina. She met my eyes without hesitation, calm and faintly smiling, as though my presence did not unsettle her at all.
Soren followed my gaze and shifted slightly.
“She needs to be here,” he added quickly. “She’s from Crosswell. We’re discussing interterritorial matters.”
Interterritorial matters. Of course.
Important things.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came. What could I even say? Why didn’t you tell me she had returned two years ago? Why didn’t you tell me you were already close to her again? Why did you let me stay in a future that no longer existed?
None of it came out.
“I understand,” I said instead.
I turned and closed the door quietly behind me.
The hallway felt tighter as I walked away. Voices followed me, growing clearer as I passed.
“She really thought Alpha Soren loved her?”
A soft laugh trailed after.
“He’s been completely taken with Miss Evelina since she came back two years ago.”
Two years.
The words echoed, sharp and relentless.
Evelina had returned two years ago. That was when everything changed—when Soren began delaying our wedding without explanation, when his warmth faded, when his attention stopped lingering on me.
Everyone knew.
The warriors who bowed more deeply to Evelina. The elders who suddenly approved alliances. The maids who watched me with quiet pity.
Everyone knew.
No one told me.
Not one person warned me. Not one voice told me I should leave before it hurt more.
They let me stay, smiling at a future that was already gone.
By the time I reached the corridor bend, my steps had grown unsteady. I nearly collided with someone.
Gideon.
He leaned against the wall as though he owned it, arms crossed, eyes slowly tracing me without restraint. Not polite. Not respectful.
Just… assessing.
From my hair to my waist. Then lingering a moment too long.
He gave a low, amused whistle.
“Now that’s unexpected,” he said lazily. “For a maid, you’re… quite appealing.”
A chill crawled up my spine.
“I don’t understand what you’re implying,” I replied, stepping aside.
His smile deepened. “You look like my sister. I suppose Soren found that useful.”
My stomach tightened at his tone.
His gaze flicked over me again before returning to my face. “If things ever fall apart for you here, Alina, Crosswell might have use for someone like you.”
I didn’t wait to hear more. I walked away, pulse racing. Something about him felt wrong—too sharp, too invasive. My wolf stirred uneasily, though even she felt dulled, as if exhaustion had weakened her instincts.
By afternoon, I tried to bury myself in work.
Old habits returned easily. Before Soren chose me, I had been nothing more than a maid—cleaning, cooking, scrubbing stone floors until winter cracked my skin.
So I cleaned again.
I carried water into the garden and began wiping down the benches. The air was calm, almost too calm, the sky clear and indifferent above me. My head ached, but I pushed through it.
I knelt near the fountain, scrubbing a stain.
Then something struck the back of my head.
Everything went white.
Pain erupted instantly as I collapsed forward onto the stone path. I tasted iron before I understood what had happened. My ears rang so loudly I could barely hear anything else.
I forced my eyes open through the haze.
On the second-floor balcony of the Alpha wing stood Evelina.
She was looking down at me.
Our eyes met.
Her expression gave nothing away.
Then the world slipped away.
When I woke, antiseptic burned faintly in the air.
I was in a guest room, lying in bed with my head tightly bandaged. A dull, constant pain pulsed beneath the wrapping.
Voices reached me.
“She didn’t do it on purpose,” Soren said urgently. “Calm down, Evelina.”
I turned my head slightly.
He stood near the window, holding Evelina as she sobbed into her hands.
When she saw I was awake, she rushed over.
“Alina!” she cried, grabbing my hand. “I’m so sorry! I was holding a pot on the balcony and it slipped—I didn’t know you were down there. I swear I didn’t mean it.”
Her tears fell onto the blanket.
I looked at her in silence.
A pot.
My mind replayed the layout of the wing. No balcony plants. No decorations along the rail. The Alpha wing was kept minimal, precise.
There had been no pots there.
Unless someone brought one.
“You injured me seriously,” I said quietly.
Even my own voice sounded distant.
Soren stepped forward immediately, his expression tightening.
“Can’t you just let it go?” he snapped. “She didn’t mean it. Don’t make this difficult, Alina.”
I stared at him. “But I—”
“No excuses,” he cut in sharply. “I didn’t realize you were this ungrateful.”
Ungrateful.
The word cut deeper than the pain in my head.
It was absurd.
All of this was absurd.
The man who once held me like I mattered now looked at me as though I were nothing but a burden.
Evelina suddenly leaned in and wrapped her arms around me.
“I’m so sorry, Alina!” she sobbed again.
Her body trembled against mine.
Then, her voice shifted—so low only I could hear.
“It could’ve been worse,” she whispered. “But I only saw a pot.”
A pause.
“Lucky you, maid.”
She pulled back instantly, resuming her tears as though nothing had changed.
I froze.
Soren rubbed her back gently. “It’s alright. She understands.”
