My Alpha Claimed Another While Our Daughter Suffered

The scent-masking potion sat on my bathroom counter like an accusation.

I stared at the amber liquid in its delicate vial, my reflection fractured in the mirror behind it. Halle slept in the next room, her fever finally broken after I'd driven her to a hospital three towns over—one where Cameron's name meant nothing.

Six years. I'd been swallowing this poison for six years.

My hand trembled as I picked up the vial. Such a small thing to contain so much of my identity. Cameron had convinced me it was protection, that my true scent would draw enemies to our doorstep. That hiding was love.

I poured it down the sink.

The liquid swirled away, and I gripped the porcelain edge as something inside me began to shift. My wolf stirred—not the timid, cowering thing she'd become, but something ancient and powerful. Something that had been sleeping far too long.

*Finally,* she whispered. *Finally, we wake.*

Heat bloomed through my veins. My skin prickled as my true scent began to emerge—wild roses and thunderstorms, the signature of Royal blood. The bathroom filled with it, intoxicating and unmistakable.

I looked up at my reflection.

My eyes flashed gold.

Not the muddy brown I'd worn like a disguise. Not the dull color of a suppressed she-wolf. Pure, molten gold—the mark of Lycan royalty.

*There you are,* my wolf purred. *There we are.*

Tears streamed down my face, but they weren't tears of sadness. They were rage. Relief. Recognition.

I was Elora Ryan. Daughter of the Lycan King. Sister to the Lycan Prince. And I had let a weak Alpha with delusions of grandeur reduce me to nothing.

Never again.

My phone sat on the counter where I'd left it. I picked it up, scrolling through my contacts until I found the number I'd saved under a false name years ago. My finger hovered over the call button.

This was it. The moment I stopped being Cameron's secret and became his reckoning.

I pressed dial.

Three rings. Four. Then—

"Elora?" My brother's voice was sharp, alert despite the late hour. "Is that really you?"

"Brother." The word came out broken, six years of silence cracking open. "It's time."

Silence stretched between us, heavy with everything unsaid. Then: "Where are you? I'm sending—"

"No." I cut him off, my voice steadier now. "Not yet. I need your help, but not like that."

"He hurt you." It wasn't a question. My brother's fury vibrated through the phone line. "I'll bring the full weight of the Lycan Council down on his pathetic pack. I'll—"

"I want revenge," I said quietly. "Not rescue. There's a difference."

Another pause. When he spoke again, I heard the shift—from protective brother to strategic prince.

"Tell me what you need."

I outlined my plan, my voice growing stronger with each word. Cameron's double life. Piper's delusions. The systematic erasure of Halle and me.

"The 'Raining' persona," I finished. "Is it still—"

"Legendary." My brother's laugh was dark. "Your last exhibition sold out in minutes. Every pack from here to the coast wants a Raining portrait. They say you capture the soul of the wolf."

Perfect.

"Then I need you to help me set a trap," I said. "Cameron and Piper are desperate for social validation. If Raining offered them an exclusive feature..."

"They'd leap at it." Understanding colored his tone. "And walk right into your hands."

"Exactly."

We spent the next hour planning. My brother would use his connections to plant rumors about Raining's return. I would contact Piper through an agent persona, offering the one thing her vanity couldn't resist—a spread in *Moonlight Vogue*, the most prestigious werewolf publication in North America.

"This will destroy him," my brother warned. "Publicly. Completely. Once the Council knows he violated mate bond sanctity, once they see the evidence of his deception..."

"Good," I said. "He deserves nothing less."

"And you're sure? Once we start this, there's no going back. You'll have to face him. Face them both."

I looked at my reflection again. Gold eyes stared back, fierce and unafraid.

"I'm sure."

After we hung up, I stood in the bathroom for a long moment, breathing in my true scent. It felt like coming home to a house I'd abandoned.

In the next room, Halle stirred. I went to her, settling on the edge of her bed. Her small hand found mine in the darkness.

"Mama?" Her voice was sleepy, confused. "You smell different."

"I know, baby." I brushed hair from her forehead. "That's because Mama stopped pretending."

"Pretending what?"

"Pretending to be small." I kissed her temple. "Go back to sleep. Everything's going to change soon."

She drifted off, and I sat there in the dark, planning.

By morning, I'd drafted the perfect email. Professional. Enticing. Impossible to refuse.

*Dear Ms. Martinez,*

*On behalf of the renowned photographer Raining, I am pleased to offer you and Alpha Joshua an exclusive feature in Moonlight Vogue...*

I hit send before I could second-guess myself.

Then I waited for the spider to feel the web shake.