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Fated Mate's Cruel Deception Novel Cover

Fated Mate's Cruel Deception

The familiar scent of pine and morning dew should have felt like coming home. Instead, as I stepped out of the sleek black car that had picked me up from the airport, the Moonveil Pack house loomed before me like a stranger's dwelling. Four years. Four long years of studying pack management in European academies, learning diplomacy and alliance strategies, all in preparation for this moment—my return as the future Luna of one of the most powerful pack alliances on the continent. My wolf, Silver, stirred restlessly beneath my skin. *Something's wrong,* she whispered, her voice tight with unease. *The scents are... different.* I pushed down her concerns, attributing them to my own nerves. Of course things would feel different after four years away. People change.
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Chapter 3

The knock on my door came at dawn, sharp and authoritative. I'd barely slept, my mind churning with plans and contingencies while Silver paced restlessly beneath my skin. Through the thin walls of my childhood bedroom, I could hear the sounds of the pack house stirring to life—footsteps in the corridors, muffled conversations, the distant clatter of breakfast preparations.

"Saige." Leo's voice carried through the heavy oak door, formal and cold. "We need to go."

I opened the door to find him standing in the hallway, flanked by two pack enforcers I didn't recognize. Their stance was casual, but their eyes held the alert watchfulness of guards rather than escorts. My stomach clenched with unease.

"Go where?" I kept my voice steady, though Silver's hackles were rising.

"Routine health assessments," Leo said, his amber eyes not quite meeting mine. "Pack protocol requires all potential Lunas to undergo comprehensive medical evaluations. It's been four years since your last examination."

The lie rolled off his tongue so smoothly I almost admired the skill of it. Almost. "I wasn't aware this was required."

"Many things have changed in your absence." His tone carried that Alpha authority that brooked no argument. "The car is waiting."

I had no choice but to follow, flanked by the silent enforcers like a prisoner being led to trial. The sleek black sedan that had brought me home yesterday now felt like a hearse as we drove through the morning mist toward the pack's medical facility on the outskirts of our territory.

Dr. Helena Cross met us at the entrance, her severe features arranged in professional neutrality. She'd been the pack's head physician for as long as I could remember, but something in her manner seemed different—more guarded, less warm than the woman who'd treated my childhood scrapes and illnesses.

"Miss Barnes," she said with a curt nod. "Please follow me."

The examination room was sterile and cold, all gleaming metal surfaces and harsh fluorescent lighting. As Dr. Cross began her preparations, laying out instruments with clinical precision, Leo positioned himself by the window where he could watch everything.

"Is it necessary for the Alpha to be present?" I asked, my voice tight with barely controlled anger.

"Pack protocol," Dr. Cross replied without looking up. "All Luna candidates require Alpha oversight during fertility assessments."

Fertility assessments. The words hit me like ice water. This wasn't about my general health—this was about my ability to bear Leo's children. Children he already had with Freyja.

*They're documenting everything,* Silver snarled in my mind. *Every humiliation, every violation. They want evidence.*

The next hour passed in a blur of invasive procedures and clinical detachment. Blood draws, internal examinations, hormone level tests—all conducted with Leo's amber eyes watching from across the room. Dr. Cross asked questions about my menstrual cycle, my sexual history, my genetic background, all while scribbling notes on a clipboard that she kept angled away from my view.

"Interesting," she murmured at one point, studying a test result. "Alpha King, you should see this."

Leo moved closer, his expression unreadable as he examined whatever she'd found. They exchanged a look I couldn't interpret, but the satisfaction in his eyes made my skin crawl.

"What is it?" I demanded.

"Nothing to concern yourself with," Dr. Cross said dismissively. "We'll have the full results in a few days."

But I caught the edge of triumph in her voice, the way Leo's shoulders relaxed as if some crucial piece had fallen into place. Whatever they'd found—or whatever they'd fabricated—it was exactly what they'd been hoping for.

The ride back to the pack house passed in tense silence. But as we pulled into the circular drive, I noticed additional vehicles parked near the entrance. Official-looking black SUVs with tinted windows that screamed authority.

Pack enforcers.

"Saige," Leo said as we climbed the front steps. "There's been a development in your father's case."

My blood turned to ice. "What kind of development?"

"New evidence has come to light. Financial irregularities dating back several years." His voice carried that false regret again, the performance of a man who was simply doing his duty. "Until the investigation is complete, you'll need to remain in the pack house. For your own protection, of course."

The enforcers were waiting in the foyer—four of them, all strangers with the hard eyes of hired muscle rather than pack members. Marcus Kane stood off to one side, his expression troubled as he avoided my gaze.

"Marcus," I said, hoping to find some ally in my father's old friend. "Surely this isn't necessary—"

"I'm sorry, Saige," he said quietly. "Orders are orders."

One of the enforcers stepped forward, his voice professionally neutral. "Miss Barnes, you'll be confined to your quarters pending the outcome of the financial investigation. All communications will be monitored, and you'll have supervised access to common areas for meals."

House arrest. They were placing me under house arrest in my own childhood home.

Leo watched it all with those cold amber eyes, his expression a mask of Alpha authority doing what was necessary for the pack's welfare. But I caught the slight tightening around his eyes, the way his jaw clenched when the enforcer mentioned monitored communications.

Some part of him still felt guilt over what he was doing to me.

Good. He should.

"I understand," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. "May I at least retrieve some personal items from my room?"

The lead enforcer nodded curtly. "You have ten minutes. Supervised."

As I climbed the stairs to my childhood bedroom, flanked by guards like a common criminal, my mind was already racing. They thought they'd trapped me, cut off my communications, isolated me from any potential allies.

They had no idea what I'd learned during four years abroad.

Or what I'd hidden in my room before I ever left for Europe.

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