After My Mate Defended Me, Secrets Unraveled in Silver Moon

Moonlight spilled through the window of my bedroom as I sat on the edge of the bed, running my fingers over the bandage at my temple. Three days of pretending, of vacant stares and confused questions. Three days of watching their lies unfold before me while I played the helpless, broken Alpha's daughter they all expected me to be.

Jackson had left an hour ago, claiming he needed to attend to some pack duties. His constant presence was both comforting and unsettling—the way his eyes followed me when he thought I wasn't looking, how he anticipated my needs before I voiced them.

Nova paced restlessly within me. *He knows something. I can feel it.*

*Or he's playing his part too well,* I countered, though doubt gnawed at me.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. I quickly composed my expression into one of mild confusion before calling out, "Yes?"

Jackson entered, carrying a package wrapped in simple brown paper. His scent—pine and something earthy, like the forest after rain—filled the room. Without the audience of others, his shoulders seemed less tense, his movements more fluid.

"I brought you something," he said, his deep voice quiet in the stillness of the night.

I tilted my head, maintaining my role. "A gift?"

He placed the package on the bed beside me, careful not to touch me. "Open it."

Slowly, I unwrapped the paper, revealing a pool of fabric that caught the moonlight like liquid silver. As I lifted it, the dress unfurled—midnight blue silk embroidered with delicate silver phases of the moon along the hem and neckline.

My breath caught. It was exquisite.

"It's yours," Jackson said softly, "if you ever remember."

Something in his tone made me look up sharply. His blue eyes held mine, and for a moment—just a fleeting moment—I wondered if he could see through my charade.

"Why would you give me something so beautiful?" I asked, my fingers tracing the silver embroidery.

Jackson's gaze dropped to the dress, a hint of color touching his cheeks. "Because you deserve beautiful things, Autumn Hayes. Even if you don't remember who you are."

The sincerity in his voice pierced something deep within me. Nova whined, pushing against my consciousness. *He means it.*

I swallowed hard, fighting to maintain my facade. "Thank you," I whispered, and for once, the gratitude was genuine.

He nodded once, then turned to leave. At the doorway, he paused. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to the training grounds. Perhaps something there will help you remember."

After he left, I held the dress against my body, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The silver moons seemed to glow against the dark fabric, like secrets waiting to be revealed.

---

The training grounds were empty when we arrived the next morning. Jackson had insisted on coming early, before the daily sessions began.

"You used to train here," he explained, leading me across the packed dirt clearing surrounded by wooden practice dummies and weapon racks. "You were one of the best fighters in the pack."

I let my gaze wander, pretending to search for any spark of recognition. In truth, I knew every inch of this place—had spent countless hours here trying to prove myself worthy of my bloodline after my return.

"Nothing seems familiar," I said, infusing my voice with disappointment.

Jackson gestured toward a rack of practice weapons. "Try holding something. Sometimes muscle memory works when other memories fail."

I approached the rack, my hand hovering over the various training weapons. My fingers closed around a short staff, the wood smooth from years of use.

A scent caught my attention—faint but distinct. Lily's perfume, mixed with something else. Pride. Triumph.

Memory crashed through me like a physical blow. Three months ago. The pack's quarterly skills assessment. I had bested three opponents in succession with this very staff, only to find Lily later, surrounded by admirers, demonstrating "her" technique with my weapon.

"She took credit for my victory," I whispered, forgetting myself for a moment.

Jackson's head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowing. "What did you say?"

I froze, heart pounding as Nova murmured within me. *Remember who we're pretending to be.*

"I—I don't know," I stammered, dropping the staff as if it had burned me. "Something just came to me, but it's gone now."

Jackson studied me intently, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he nodded. "That's enough for today. Let's get you back."

As we walked back toward the main den, I noticed him adjusting the satchel at his hip. The flap fell open slightly, revealing several small glass vials filled with what looked like dried herbs—not the common varieties found in our territory, but something rarer, with a distinctive alpine scent.

"What are those?" I asked, pointing to the vials.

Jackson quickly secured the flap, but not before I recognized the contents. Alpine moonflower and silver thistle—rare healing herbs that grew only in the high mountains of Switzerland, near the European Lycan Council's headquarters.

"Nothing important," he said too quickly.

I stopped walking, fixing him with a stare. "Those are healing herbs. From Switzerland."

Something shifted in his expression—surprise, then resignation. He glanced around to ensure we were alone before speaking.

"They're for your mother," he admitted quietly. "I've been sending them to her for years."

"My mother?" I echoed, genuine confusion replacing my feigned one. "But Brandon handles all communication with her healers."

Jackson's jaw tightened. "Brandon decided the pack's resources were better spent elsewhere. He reduced the shipments to your mother six months after she left." His voice dropped even lower. "I've been supplementing them. Against his orders."

I stared at him, Nova suddenly alert and watchful within me. "Why would you risk defying the future Alpha?"

His eyes met mine, something fierce and protective flashing in their blue depths. "Some things are worth the risk, Autumn."

And in that moment, I wondered if perhaps I wasn't the only one playing a dangerous game of deception.