My Alpha Sacrificed Me to Save Her Sister

I didn’t go upstairs. I didn’t take off my coat. The second I walked through the front door of the Luna House, I went straight to the kitchen and walked toward his coffee mug.

The marble island was completely empty. Caleb wasn't here. I knew he wouldn't be. He was across the territory right now, hosting an after-party to celebrate Lydia’s latest achievement.

The kitchen still smelled like the burnt edges of the toast I made him for breakfast. He sat right at this counter twelve hours ago. He took exactly two bites of the eggs I cooked, checked his phone, and rushed out the door to train with her.

I stopped at the coffee maker. Seven mugs hung on the metal rack above it. I reached for the one right in the middle.

Dark gray ceramic. A thin gold line rimming the top.

Caleb bought this for me on my twentieth birthday. A year later, I gave it back to him as an engagement gift the night he made me his Luna.

I pulled the mug off the hook. The ceramic felt cold and heavy in my palm. I flipped it upside down.

You had to catch the light just right to see it. I tilted it toward the stove light. There it was. A single line of text carved deep into the base.

I did it myself at the pack forge. It took me fourteen straight days. I worked the tools until my fingers bled, and I shattered three mugs before I finally got it right. I was twenty years old, sitting by the forge fire, smiling like a fool. I kept thinking about how my mate would see this message every single morning.

*If you ever look down, I'm here.*

Three years.

Caleb drank his black coffee from this mug every single day for three years.

He never saw it. Not once.

I stared at the tiny carved letters. I didn't scream. I didn't throw the mug against the marble floor.

I turned the mug back over. I placed it gently on the counter, face up. I let my hand rest on the rim.

"From today on," I whispered to the empty room, "this isn't for him anymore."

I looked down into the empty gray bowl of the mug.

"This is for me. Every time I look down, I'll see it. I'm still alive. I'm still here."

***

Ten o'clock. I stood in the master bathroom and locked the heavy wooden door behind me.

I unzipped my makeup bag on the counter. I bypassed the lipstick and the mascara, reaching all the way to the bottom. I pulled out a flathead screwdriver. I hid it there a week ago, waiting for a night when I knew Caleb wouldn't come home.

I walked over to the medicine cabinet above the sink. I gripped the screwdriver and went straight to work on the back panel.

Four screws. I twisted them out one by one. They dropped into the porcelain sink with loud, sharp clinks. I jammed my fingernails under the edge of the mirrored panel and pulled it away from the wall.

A flat, rectangular compartment sat built into the dark space behind the drywall.

I reached in. My fingers brushed against cracked leather. I pulled out a thick notebook. The corners were peeling. The binding was frayed.

I sat down right on the cold tile floor. I crossed my legs and rested the book in my lap.

I started writing in this notebook when I was eleven years old. I opened to the very first page. Every single page had the exact same layout. Three columns.

The date.

The physical symptoms my body suffered.

The events happening in the Vance family on that exact day.

I suspected the truth for a year. I tracked the patterns. But I never put all the pieces together in one sitting. Not until tonight.

I flipped the pages. My hands shook so hard the paper rattled, but my eyes were completely dry.

*April 7. Age 11.*

A sudden 104-degree fever hit me in the middle of the night. I almost seized. That exact same day, nine-year-old Lydia entered the pup combat tournament. She won first place in the entire region.

I turned the page.

*November 2. Age 13.*

Passed out in the middle of the school hallway. I woke up totally blind in my right eye for six hours. The pack doctor had no explanation. That exact same day, the Elders bypassed all age restrictions and made Lydia a warrior trainee.

I turned another page. My breathing grew shallow.

*August 23. Age 16.*

The night of my first shift. Or rather, my failed shift. My bones cracked but wouldn't turn. I threw up blood three times under the full moon while the rest of the pack ran. That exact same night, Lydia shifted perfectly on her first try. The whole pack cheered for her. They called it a miracle.

I skipped ahead. I found the page from three years ago.

*My 18th Birthday.*

The afternoon before Caleb and I announced our engagement to the pack. I was standing in the dress shop. My heart completely stopped beating for twelve seconds. I flatlined. I woke up with a bruised chest and oxygen tubes in my nose.

That exact same morning, the Elders stood before the pack council. They named Lydia the most talented young warrior in Vance family history.

Seventy-two entries.

I flipped through every single one. I read every date. Every symptom. Every family triumph.

Seventy-two times my body broke down, failed, or nearly died. Seventy-two times Lydia gained power, speed, or glory.

Every single entry was a perfect pair.

*I used to think I was just unlucky.*

I stared at the final page.

*That my wolf was just weak. That God didn't love me.*

I dragged my thumb over the ink of the seventy-second entry.

*Turns out it wasn't God. It was a nine-year-old girl in the room next to mine, stealing pieces of me while I slept.*

The bathroom went dead silent.

*And our mother... let her.*

I dropped the notebook onto the tiles.

I held up my left wrist under the harsh bathroom vanity lights. I pulled my sleeve back. The crescent moon birthmark sat right over my pulse point. It glimmered with a faint silver light.

It was the mark of the purest wolf blood in our pack's history. It meant I was supposed to be the strongest.

I stared at the silver crescent. I remembered Lydia standing in the doorway of my bedroom when she was nine years old. I remembered the way her eyes locked onto my wrist. She didn't look at it with admiration. She looked at it with absolute hunger.

Now I knew why. She didn't want to beat me. She wanted to be me. And my mother helped her take it.

I picked the notebook back up. I snapped it shut.

I didn't put it back in the hidden compartment behind the mirror. I left the medicine cabinet completely exposed.

I stood up, unlocked the bathroom door, and walked out into the master bedroom.

I went straight to Caleb's side of the huge king bed. I pulled open his top nightstand drawer. This was the drawer where he kept his favorite silver cufflinks. The drawer he opened every single morning without fail to get ready for his duties as Alpha.

I placed the worn leather notebook right inside, setting it directly on top of his expensive watch box.

I pushed the drawer closed. It shut with a soft click.

"Caleb," I said to the empty room. "I put the proof right next to your hand."

I stepped back from the bed.

"Let's see if, after three years, you can look down just once."

I turned off the bedroom lights. I walked downstairs in the dark.

I went into the living room and sat down on the edge of the sofa. I didn't look out the window. I didn't wait for Caleb's headlights to sweep across the driveway. I knew he wasn't coming home tonight. He was with her. He was always with her.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The screen lit up my face in the dark room.

I opened my contacts. I bypassed Caleb's name. I bypassed my mother's number.

I scrolled all the way to the bottom. I found a number I hadn't called in twelve years. A number I was strictly forbidden from keeping.

Rosa Delgado.

I pressed dial. I put the phone to my ear and listened to the line ring.