HIS to CLAIM ALPHA ZEKE

He nodded like he'd expected that answer. "Fair enough." He moved toward the door. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we'll start going through anyone who might have known about Golden." "Wait." The word escaped before I could stop it. "That portrait in the hallway. The one of you and Layla and Cameron." His shoulders tensed. "What about it?" "You look like a family." I hated how small my voice sounded. "A real family. Happy." Zeke turned to face me fully. "That portrait was commissioned by the pack council two years ago. They wanted something official for the main hall. Something that showed stability and continuity after your death." "So it was just for show?" "Everything with Layla was for show." His expression hardened. "We were never together, Cecelia. Not the way that portrait suggests. Not the way you're imagining." "But she lives here. She has Cameron. She acts like the Luna in everything but name." "Because the pack needed a female presence and she was the only option." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "After you died, after she lost the baby, Layla spiraled. She blamed herself for your death even though I never knew why. She became obsessed with Cameron, with being the perfect mother, the perfect pack member." "And you just let her stay here?" "Where else would she go?" His voice rose slightly. "She was my dead mate's sister. The pack accepted her because they thought it honored your memory. How could I throw her out without looking like a monster?" I absorbed this information slowly. "So you never loved her? Even after I was gone?" "I thought I loved her once, a long time ago. Before the war, before our fathers tore our packs apart." He moved closer again. "But whatever I felt for her died the day I marked you. The day I made you mine and then treated you like you meant nothing." "I did mean nothing to you." "You meant everything to me." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "That was the problem. I married you thinking I could keep my heart locked away, that I could do my duty without getting attached. But every day with you made it harder to maintain that distance. Every smile, every laugh, every moment you tried to make our marriage work despite knowing I didn't love you, it broke down my walls." "Then why did you push me away?" Tears burned my eyes. "Why did you choose her?" "Because I'm a coward." The admission came out flat, emotionless. "Because loving you meant admitting I'd been wrong about everything. Wrong about Layla, wrong about duty over emotion, wrong about who I was supposed to be." He shook his head. "By the time I realized what I'd thrown away, you were gone. Dead. And I had to live with knowing my cowardice killed you." "Layla killed me. Or tried to." "I gave her the opportunity." His eyes met mine, and I saw genuine anguish there. "If I'd been a better mate, a better husband, she never would have felt threatened enough to push you off that cliff. Your blood is on my hands as much as hers." I didn't know what to say to that. Part of me wanted to argue, to tell him he was being dramatic. But another part recognized the truth in his words. If Zeke had chosen me, truly chosen me, maybe Layla never would have acted. "We can't change the past," I said finally. "No. But I can spend every day for the rest of my life trying to make up for it." He moved to the door again. "Get some rest, Cecelia. We have a long day tomorrow." After he left, I changed into my sleeping clothes and crawled into bed. The sheets smelled like lavender and something else, something that reminded me of the palace as it used to be. Before everything went wrong. Sleep didn't come easy. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Golden's face in that photograph. His tears. His fear. My baby needed me and I was lying in a comfortable bed in a palace while he suffered somewhere. I must have eventually drifted off because I woke to early morning light streaming through the window. My phone showed three missed calls from Fatima. I called her back immediately. "Cecelia, thank the goddess." Fatima sounded relieved. "I've been trying to reach you for hours." "I'm sorry, I was asleep. What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong exactly, but I remembered something. That woman who was asking questions about Golden a few weeks ago? I saw her." I sat up straight. "You saw her? When? Where?" "She came to my house about a month ago claiming to be doing a census for the pack. She asked about everyone living with me, including you and Golden." Fatima's voice went tight. "I didn't think anything of it at the time. We get pack officials through sometimes doing surveys. But now that the trackers mentioned it, I remember. She was very interested in Golden specifically. Asked his age, whether his father was involved, where he went to school." "What did you tell her?" "Just the basics. That you lived with me, that Golden was three, that he attended the local preschool." Fatima paused. "Cecelia, I'm so sorry. If I'd known-" "It's not your fault," I interrupted. "You couldn't have known what she was planning. Did you tell the trackers this?" "Yes, I called them as soon as I remembered. They're coming back to take a full statement." I thanked Fatima and ended the call, my mind racing. This woman had been gathering information about Golden for at least a month. This wasn't a random kidnapping. Someone had been watching us, planning this, waiting for the right moment. I dressed quickly and went to find Zeke. His office door was open, which surprised me. He sat at his desk surrounded by files and his laptop, looking like he hadn't slept at all. "Fatima called," I said without preamble. "She saw the woman too. The one asking questions about Golden." Zeke looked up sharply. "When?" "About a month ago. The woman came to her house claiming to do a pack census." I moved closer to his desk. "Zeke, this was planned. Whoever took Golden has been watching us for weeks, maybe longer." "I know." He turned his laptop to face me. The screen showed a grainy traffic camera image of a dark SUV. "This vehicle was caught on camera leaving Seacreek the afternoon Golden disappeared. We're working on enhancing the image to get a license plate, but the angle is bad." I studied the image. The SUV looked expensive, the kind that wealthy pack members or Alpha families drove. "Do you recognize it?" "Not yet. But we will." He closed the laptop. "I need you to make a list for me." "A list of what?" "Everyone who knew you were alive. Everyone in Seacreek who knew about Golden, who knew he was my son." His expression was grim. "We need to consider that someone from your new life betrayed you." The words hit me like cold water. "No. The people in Seacreek, they wouldn't-" "Someone gave information to that woman." Zeke's voice was firm but not unkind. "Someone told her where to find you, where Golden went to school, enough details to plan this kidnapping. We need to figure out who." I sank into the chair across from his desk. The list would be short. Fatima obviously. Her children, though they were too young to understand what they might have overheard. A few neighbors who'd become friends. The preschool staff. My boss at the market where I worked part time. "It could have been innocent," I said weakly. "Someone mentioning Golden in passing, not realizing-" "Maybe." Zeke pulled out a notepad. "But we need to investigate everyone. Anyone who might want to hurt you through Golden. Anyone who might have a grudge against you or against me." "Against you? Why would someone with a grudge against you target Golden?" "Because he's my son. Because hurting him hurts me." Zeke's jaw was tight. "I've made enemies over the years, Cecelia. Other Alphas who disagreed with my decisions. Wolves I've exiled or punished. It's possible someone found out about Golden and saw an opportunity for revenge. The thought made me sick. My baby caught up in pack politics and old grudges that had nothing to do with him. He was innocent. He was just a little boy who liked playing in the sand and helping Fatima with her fishing nets and asking endless questions about everything. "Start with Seacreek," Zeke said, pushing the notepad toward me. "Write down every name you can think of. We'll go through them one by one." I picked up the pen with shaking hands and began to write. Fatima's name went first, though I knew in my bones she had nothing to do with this. Then her children. Then the neighbors, my coworkers, the preschool staff. The list grew longer than I expected, and with each name my heart grew heavier. One of these people had betrayed me. One of them had given information that led to my son being taken. The thought was unbearable.