When the Alpha’s Daughter Stole My Place

I waited until the packhouse settled into the heavy, suffocating quiet of midnight before I slipped out of the Alpha suite. The air in the basement hallway was stale, a stark contrast to the rich pine and fresh air of the upper floors. I knocked softly on the last door.

The young Omega opened it. Her eyes were wide and fearful, and a nasty, dark purple bruise bloomed along her jaw where she had struck the kitchen tile.

"Luna?" she whispered, shrinking back a little.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. "Sit," I told her gently.

She perched on the edge of her narrow bed. I reached out, pressing my warm hands gently against her jaw. I let my Luna aura flow through my fingertips, pushing soothing, healing energy into her bruised skin. She flinched at first, then slowly relaxed as the swelling began to fade.

"You didn't fall on your own," I said quietly, keeping my eyes on her face.

She looked down at her lap. Omegas were taught to survive by being invisible. Speaking against the Alpha's protected ward was dangerous, and Neil had made his stance terrifyingly clear.

"I won't let him punish you," I promised. "But I need the truth."

She took a shaky breath, her fingers twisting the fabric of her sleep shirt. "I saw her, Luna. The little girl. She dragged the heavy gallon jug out of the pantry. I watched her pour the oil across the floor, set the jug back perfectly, and then she just... waited in the doorway. For someone to walk in."

The chill that washed over me had nothing to do with the basement draft. I thanked the Omega, healed the rest of her scrapes, and walked back up the stairs like a ghost.

My hand found my lower abdomen, pressing flat against the tiny, secret flutter of life inside me. My perspective shattered and rearranged itself in the dark. Aviana wasn't a broken, grieving orphan acting out of fear or trauma. She was a calculating threat. She was actively campaigning against me, hunting for my weak spots.

And I was the prey.

Two nights later, the sky tore open.

A fierce thunderstorm rolled over the Shadowpine territory with violent, deafening cracks. Rain lashed against the bedroom windows in heavy sheets, blurring the dense tree line into a dark, swirling mess.

Neil stood by the door, pulling on his heavy waterproof jacket. His jaw was tight. "The southern river border is flooding," he said, his voice clipped. "Harrison and I are going out to secure the perimeter."

"Be careful," I said. It was a reflex, a remnant of the mate I used to be.

"Lock the doors. Stay inside." He didn't look at me. He didn't kiss my cheek. He just walked out, his mind already swallowed by the storm.

I stood alone in the center of the Alpha suite. The thunder shook the glass under my fingertips, the booming so loud it easily masked every other sound in the massive packhouse.

Inside my mind, my wolf paced in tight, agitated circles. She was whining, her hackles raised, snapping her jaws at empty air. She felt it—a deep, primal unease that made my skin crawl.

*Something is wrong,* she growled in my head.

I rubbed my stomach, trying to soothe both of us. "We're fine," I whispered to the empty room, though my heart beat a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "We're safe."

*Click.*

The sound of the heavy brass deadbolt turning was small, but it cut straight through the rumble of the thunder.

I spun around.

Aviana stood just inside the room, her hand dropping from the lock. She didn't look like the fragile, trembling child who clung to Neil's leg. Her shoulders were square. Her posture was perfectly steady. The wide, tear-filled eyes were gone, replaced by a stare so flat and empty it made the blood freeze in my veins.

"Aviana," I said, forcing my voice to stay even. "What are you doing in here?"

She took a step forward. Then another.

"He's mine," she said. Her voice wasn't small or hesitant anymore. It was dead flat, carrying a chilling, adult certainty. "He will only ever love me."

"Where is your chaperone?" I asked, taking a slow step backward. My hand instinctively dropped to cover my belly.

Aviana noticed the movement. Her dark eyes locked onto my stomach, and her mouth twisted into an ugly, cruel line.

"There is no room for a Luna," she said coldly. "And there is no room for anything else."

Before I could process the threat, she lunged.

She didn't move like a child. She moved with the explosive, desperate violence of a cornered rogue. I tried to twist away, twisting my body to shield my womb, but the heavy fabric of my dress tangled around my knees.

Her heavy boot connected directly with my stomach.

The force of the kick stole the breath right out of my lungs. A sharp, agonizing tear of pain ripped through my abdomen, so intense it blinded me with white light. I collapsed hard onto the hardwood floor, curling into a tight ball, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

Thunder cracked directly overhead, rattling the floorboards beneath my cheek. Through the ringing in my ears and the blinding, hot agony radiating from my womb, I opened my eyes.

Aviana stood over me, looking down at my writhing body. She didn't blink.