Marcus Webb started following me on Tuesday.
I noticed him in the rearview mirror when I left the packhouse that morning. Silver sedan, two cars back, keeping pace but not close enough to look obvious. He thought he was subtle. He was not.
Stefan's Beta. Of course. Stefan needed proof I was doing something wrong—meeting with rival Alphas, mishandling pack funds, sleeping with rogues, anything he could twist into grounds for a fault-based rejection. Marcus was his eyes.
I drove to my attorney's office. I sat in the waiting room for forty minutes, reviewed three contracts I did not need to review, and drove home. Marcus followed the entire way. When I pulled into my driveway, he idled at the corner for five seconds before moving on.
Lila snarled inside me. *Rip his throat out.*
I rubbed my mother's ring and went inside.
By Thursday, Eva had reassigned my allies.
Clara, who had run the pack's charity fund with me for two years, sent me a short email. She was stepping back. Personal reasons. I knew what that meant. Eva had gotten to her. Probably offered her something—a better position, access to Stefan's inner circle, the promise that loyalty to the new Luna would be rewarded.
Then it was Jordan, who coordinated our perimeter patrols. Then Simone, who handled pack finances. One by one, the wolves I had worked with, trained with, trusted, sent their polite messages and stopped returning my calls.
I did not fight it. I replied to every email with the same two sentences: *I understand. Best of luck.*
What I did do was keep a file. Names. Dates. Who said what, and when. If Stefan wanted to play the long game, I would play it longer.
Friday afternoon, I was in my car outside the packhouse when I overheard two younger wolves talking near the side entrance. They did not see me.
"Eva says the coastal bid is going through next month," one of them said. Male, maybe twenty. "Stefan's putting up serious money. Allied packs are backing him."
"That's Greene territory, isn't it?" the other one asked.
"Was. Not anymore. Once Stefan controls it, Gabrielle's inheritance is landlocked. She'll have land she can't even access."
They laughed. Then they went inside.
I sat very still.
The coastal territory. My mother had secured it in the trust specifically because it bordered three major trade routes. Controlling it meant controlling access to half the region's pack commerce. If Stefan took it, everything else I inherited would be worthless.
I pulled out my phone and texted my attorney. *Prepare the inheritance clause. I want it ready to file the moment I say go.*
His reply came back in under a minute. *Understood.*
I did not file it yet. Timing mattered. If I moved too early, Stefan would have time to counter. If I waited too long, the bid would close and the damage would be done.
So I waited.
By Sunday, I could not stand the packhouse anymore. The walls felt like they were closing in. Every corner held a memory of Stefan—his hand on my back at pack dinners, his voice in my ear during meetings, the way he used to pull me into his office just to kiss me when no one was looking.
All of it fake. All of it calculated.
I got in my car and drove.
I did not have a destination. I just needed distance. I ended up at a bar on the edge of town, a place called The Ember. It was pack-affiliated but neutral ground—visiting Alphas used it when they were in the region, and the owner kept it clean and quiet.
I pulled into the lot just as the sun started to set. The sky was orange and bruised purple, and the air smelled like rain that had not fallen yet.
I turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, hands on the wheel, trying to decide if I actually wanted to go inside or if I just wanted to sit in the parking lot until dark.
A knock on the window made me jump.
I turned.
A young wolf stood outside my door, smiling. He wore a dark jacket that looked a size too big and a name tag that said *Valet*. His hair was slightly messy, like he had been running his hands through it, and his eyes were warm and brown and completely unguarded.
"Evening," he said through the glass. His voice was muffled but friendly. "You need me to park this for you?"
I hesitated. Then I rolled down the window.
The scent hit me like a fist.
Cedar. Rain. Something else underneath it, something I could not name but that made Lila surge forward so hard I had to grip the steering wheel to keep still. It was old. Ancient. It smelled like forests that had never been cut and rivers that had run for a thousand years.
My wolf screamed. *Mate. Mate. Mate.*
No.
I shoved her down so hard she yelped. My hands tightened on the wheel until my knuckles went white.
The young wolf did not seem to notice. He just kept smiling, easy and warm, like he had all the time in the world.
"You okay?" he asked.
I forced my face into something neutral. "Fine."
"You sure? You look like you just saw a ghost."
"I said I'm fine."
He held up both hands, still smiling. "Alright. No problem." He stepped back and opened my door for me. "Keys?"
I got out. My legs felt unsteady, but I kept my spine straight. I dropped the keys into his hand without looking at him directly.
"Thank you," I said.
He gave a small, slightly too-formal bow that would have been ridiculous on anyone else but somehow worked on him. "My pleasure, miss."
Then he looked up, and our eyes met.
For half a second, something shifted in his expression. The warmth stayed, but underneath it I saw something else—something sharper, more focused, like he was reading me the way I read contracts.
Then it was gone.
He slid into my car, adjusted the seat, and drove toward the valet lot.
I stood there in the middle of the parking lot, breathing through my nose, trying to get the scent out of my head.
Lila whined. *Go after him. Go after him now.*
*No,* I told her. *We are not doing this.*
*He is ours.*
*Stefan was ours too. Look how that turned out.*
She went quiet. Hurt. I felt it like a bruise inside my chest.
I turned and walked toward the bar entrance.
Behind me, I heard the soft sound of my car door closing. I did not look back.
