Forsaken for a Fake: The True Luna's Revenge

POV: Alois

I hacked the electronic lock on the dungeon door in fourteen seconds.

As a former Gamma-the tactician and strategist of the pack-I knew the security protocols better than the Alpha himself. I had been demoted to the IT department because Clemmie didn't like the way I looked at her.

She was right to be suspicious. I knew a snake when I saw one.

The door hissed open. I sprayed a cloud of "Scent Mask" aerosol over myself. It smelled like chemically synthesized mud and ozone, designed to hide a wolf's natural odor from other predators.

I stepped inside and nearly retched.

The smell of blood was overwhelming.

"Luna," I whispered.

Daria lay on the table. She looked like a broken doll. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, contrasting with the dark red stains soaking the metal beneath her.

I rushed forward, pulling a lockpick from my pocket. My hands shook. Not from fear, but from rage.

I remembered two years ago. I was dying from a Rogue bite that had gone septic. The healers had given up. Daria had come to the infirmary. She sat by my bed for three nights, wiping my fevered brow. She even gave me her own blood for a transfusion when the supplies ran low.

Her blood had burned like fire in my veins, but it healed me in hours.

I owed her my life.

"Alois?" Her voice was a cracked whisper. Her eyes fluttered open. They were glazed with pain.

"I've got you," I said, working the pick into the silver cuffs. "Hold on."

Click.

The cuff sprang open. I freed her hands and feet. The burns on her wrists were deep, the flesh raw and angry.

I scooped her up into my arms. She weighed nothing. It felt like carrying a ghost.

"Leave me," she murmured, her head lolling against my chest. "He will kill you."

"Let him try," I growled.

I carried her out of the cell, moving silently through the corridors. The pack house was quiet. Most of the warriors were at the border, distracted by a fake Rogue sighting I had generated in the system ten minutes ago.

We reached the underground garage. My modified SUV was waiting, the engine idling silently.

I opened the back door and laid Daria gently on the seat. She was shivering violently. Shock was setting in.

"Stay with me, Daria," I said. "We're almost out."

I jumped into the driver's seat and gunned the engine. The tires squealed on the concrete as we shot toward the exit ramp.

Suddenly, a figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking the exit.

It was Marcus, the Beta. The Alpha's second-in-command.

He stood with his arms crossed, his massive frame filling the lane. His nose twitched.

He couldn't smell Daria because of the blood loss and the silver in her system suppressing her wolf. He couldn't smell me because of the masking spray.

But he could smell the fear.

I slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt inches from his knees.

Marcus walked to the driver's side window. He tapped on the glass.

My heart hammered against my ribs. If I shifted now, I would destroy the car and kill Daria. I had to bluff.

I rolled the window down two inches.

"In a hurry, IT boy?" Marcus asked, his eyes scanning the dark interior of the car.

"Server crash at the downtown office," I lied, keeping my voice steady. "Alpha Kaeden will skin me alive if the financial data is lost."

Marcus sniffed the air again. He frowned. "I smell... ozone. And something metallic."

"Cleaning supplies," I said. "Spilled some in the back."

Marcus leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. He looked at the backseat. Daria was covered by a blanket I had thrown over her, but a stray hand was visible.

"What's under the blanket?" Marcus asked, his voice dropping an octave.

I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.

"Marcus," I said, dropping the act. "Look at me."

Marcus met my eyes. He saw the desperation there.

"You know what's happening upstairs," I whispered. "You know it's wrong. You have a daughter, Marcus. Would you let Kaeden carve her up for that witch?"

Marcus stiffened. His gaze flicked to the blanket, then back to the gate controls. He had always been loyal, but he wasn't blind. He hated Clemmie as much as I did.

He reached for the door handle, hesitated, and then pulled his hand back.