Not Your Backup She-Wolf

Eight years of loyalty—wiped out by three days of her batting her lashes.

At the bonfire, I swore the Alpha would finally mark me. Instead, I watched him fasten a sparkly little pendant around her neck.

When the fire broke out, he ditched me—flames snapping at my heels. Said I could "handle myself," then played hero carrying her out.

She showed up at my herb shop all smug, called me a "mutt no one wants."

Then he showed up—Alpha on his knees outside my door, begging for another shot.

I nodded toward my shelves. "These heal every wolf in Stormborne... except the Alpha who couldn't see what was right in front of him."

The Stormborne pack's bonfire festival reeked of berries and smoke.

I gripped the Sootheleaf in my hand, fingers brushing the edges. Climbed the back ridge at dawn just to get it. Liam—our Alpha—took a silver cut during a clash with a rival pack. This herb was the only thing keeping the swelling in check. He needed it daily.

He didn't even glance at me.

His eyes? Glued to Chloe, the visiting Alpha's daughter.

"Liam, will you peel this berry for me?" she purred, clinging to his arm, dragging her nails along the seam of his coat.

Liam looked down, and his smile went soft—so soft I'd never seen it in our eight freaking years.

"Careful, don't stain your dress."

He peeled the berry slow, handed it over. Juice smeared his fingers. Chloe whipped out some lacy handkerchief and stood on tiptoe to blot his hand, her fingers lingering way too long.

"Liam, your herbs—" My grip crushed the Sootheleaf.

"Wait, can't you see I'm busy?" Still didn't look at me. Eyes locked on a jewelry stand.

Chloe brushed a gemstone, then pointed at a red agate pendant. "Isn't this one pretty?"

"I'll put it on for you."

He picked it up like it was sacred. The way he stared at that stone? I'd never seen that kind of focus—not once.

"Liam, I heard your pack makes the best peanut butter? My mom used to spread it on toast. I haven't had it in forever." Chloe tugged his sleeve, voice dipped in a sweet little pout.

My chest locked up.

Eight years ago, peanuts nearly killed me. He'd sprinted me to the pack clinic, roaring, 'If anyone mentions peanut butter again, they'll answer to me.'

Now? He was smiling. "No problem. I'll have them pack a few jars for you to take home."

Clink.

My glass hit the table hard, water splashing straight onto Chloe's spotless white dress.

Her eyes shimmered instantly. She jerked back. "Sophia, is it 'cause I mentioned peanut butter? I didn't mean to upset you..."

Liam scowled. "Why are you so clumsy? Can't even hold a cup right?"

"Liam, did you forget I'm allergic to peanuts?" My voice cracked. The herbs shook in my grip.

He hesitated, eyes darting. "Chloe's just visiting. What's wrong with letting her try something local? You don't have to eat it."

"Eight years, and you forget peanuts make me wheeze—but in three days, you remember her favorite snack?" I stepped up, locked eyes. "Your memory that bad, or just bad when it's about me?"

His jaw tightened. "Don't make a scene. Chloe's our guest. Show some respect."

I snapped. "She's not a guest. She's a mutt who knows how to fake helpless and flirt like it's her job."

Chloe clung to his arm, full-on sobbing. "It's my fault. Don't fight with Sophia because of me. I won't eat peanut butter anymore..."

Liam stroked her back like she was some shaken pup. Then his glare hit me, thick with Alpha aura. "Keep this up and I'll send you back to the cabin behind the ridge. Stop embarrassing yourself."

I stepped back, clutching the herbs so tight my knuckles went white.

Eight years of love—trashed by one fake tear from a tourist. What a freaking joke.