The knock on my study door came precisely at 9 AM. I'd been awake since dawn, my mind racing with possibilities, each more damning than the last.

"Enter," I commanded, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

Dorian stepped in, his expression grim. He carried a tablet and a manila folder, his movements efficient as always.

"Luna Morgan," he said with a slight bow. "I have the information you requested."

I gestured to the chair across from my desk. "Tell me."

Dorian placed the folder between us and opened it. "My scouts confirm that Alpha Clyde's vehicle never crossed into Blood River territory."

I'd expected this, but hearing it confirmed still sent a wave of cold fury through me. "Where did he go?"

"The Luna's Respite," Dorian said, his distaste evident in the slight curl of his lip. "A hotel in neutral territory known for... discretion."

The Luna's Respite. I knew of it—a place where pack politics were left at the door, where secrets stayed buried beneath silk sheets and champagne toasts.

"Kayla Woods was with him," I said. It wasn't a question.

Dorian nodded. "Security footage shows them arriving together. They stayed for three days."

Three days of betrayal. Three days of lies.

"I need those security logs," I said, touching my father's signet ring. "Every moment they were there."

"Already in motion," Dorian replied. "I've contacted a former packmate who works their security. He'll send us everything."

I nodded, dismissing him with a gesture. "Keep me updated."

After he left, I moved to my computer and entered my password—a sequence of numbers and symbols that would be meaningless to anyone else. The pack's encrypted treasury logs appeared on screen.

I'd designed this system myself, a labyrinth of digital protection that would take even the most skilled hacker months to penetrate. Clyde had always praised my "pretty little hobby" of security architecture, never understanding that it was far more than that.

Now, I was grateful for his underestimation.

I scrolled through the transactions, my eyes catching on a pattern that had been hidden in plain sight. Small transfers—five thousand here, ten thousand there—spread out over six months. Each one just below the threshold that would trigger automatic alerts.

"Careful," I whispered to myself. "So careful."

But not careful enough.

I added up the totals in my head, then cross-referenced them with a property management app on my phone. The numbers matched perfectly—the cost of a rogue-safe sanctuary villa being constructed on the edge of our territory.

A love nest. Funded by my pack's money.

I switched screens and pulled up the shell company information. "K.W. Consulting." Kayla Woods. How brazen. How stupid.

The villa was nearly complete—a modern fortress with silver-laced foundations and moonstone windows. All the materials were top-grade, designed to keep out even the most determined rogue wolf.

Or perhaps, designed to keep someone in.

I stood and moved to the window, needing to clear my head. The morning sun cast long shadows across the pack grounds as members went about their daily duties. Everything looked normal. Calm.

A lie.

Movement caught my eye—a figure walking through the side gate. Kayla. She looked exhausted, her shoulders slumped as if carrying an invisible weight.

"Visiting her sick aunt," I murmured, remembering the excuse she'd given for her absence.

I watched as she adjusted her collar, pulling it higher as if to hide something. But the sunlight caught it anyway—a glint of blue-white stone against her throat.

My breath caught.

The Moonstone amulet—my mother's gift on my sixteenth birthday. An heirloom passed down through generations of Lycan females. It had disappeared from my bedroom vault a week ago.

I'd torn the room apart looking for it, convinced one of our younger pack members had stolen it as a prank.

Now it hung around Kayla's neck like a trophy.

Something snapped inside me—not a bone or tendon, but something deeper. The last thread of hope that this might all be some terrible mistake.

It wasn't just infidelity. It wasn't just embezzlement.

It was usurpation.

Kayla wasn't just sleeping with my mate—she was trying to become me.

I gripped the windowsill until my knuckles turned white, forcing myself to breathe slowly. In. Out. In. Out.

Royal blood doesn't permit weakness.

And I was my father's daughter.

I reached for my phone and texted Dorian: "Find out who authorized the construction of the villa. And get me everything we have on Kayla Woods. Everything."

As I waited for his reply, I watched Kayla disappear into the pack house, my mother's amulet glinting in the sun like a beacon of betrayal.

The door to my office burst open without warning, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the room as Clyde strode in. His face was contorted with anger, eyes flashing dangerously as he slammed the door behind him.

"What the hell was that out there?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening. "You embarrassed me in front of the entire pack."

I remained seated behind my desk, my posture relaxed but my senses alert. "You smelled of another woman, Clyde. What did you expect?"

"I expected my Luna to act like a proper mate!" He slammed his palms down on my desk, leaning forward until his face was inches from mine. "Not some cold, calculating—"

"Careful," I interrupted, my voice soft but carrying an edge that made him pause. "Remember who you're speaking to."

Something flickered in his eyes—a momentary reminder of who held the true power here. Then his expression shifted, calculating as he straightened up.

"Fine. Let's discuss business instead." His tone changed, becoming almost pleasant. "I need the final blueprints for the Silverclaw Fortress."

I raised an eyebrow. "The blueprints aren't due until next week."

"I need them tonight," he insisted, his jaw tightening. "The Grand Alpha Summit is in three days. If I'm going to secure my Council seat, I need to present something impressive."

"And you think my designs will impress?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Of course." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "As Alpha, I should be the one to present them. It's only proper."

There it was—the subtle claim to my work. My months of calculations, of sleepless nights perfecting every detail, reduced to his propaganda piece.

"Those designs are still in draft form," I said carefully.

"Then finalize them." He checked his watch impatiently. "I need them by midnight."

After he left, I sat motionless for several minutes, processing his demands. It wasn't just about presenting my work—he intended to take full credit. And if I knew Clyde, he'd hand those designs to Kayla, letting her claim the genius behind them.

A plan formed in my mind—not impulsive or emotional, but cold and calculated. Just like me.

I opened my drafting software, the familiar interface glowing blue in the dim light of my office. The Silverclaw Fortress designs were my masterpiece—a comprehensive defense system that would protect our territory from any attack.

But now, I would make it a trap.

I pulled up the Northern Sector schematic, studying the intricate sensor grid and foundation specifications. With careful precision, I introduced a flaw—a blind spot in the sensor coverage that would be nearly impossible to detect without thorough analysis.

Next, I modified the foundation specifications, weakening the structural integrity in a way that would be invisible to anyone but an expert eye. If built according to these plans, the Northern Wall would collapse under the first serious assault.

"Perfect," I whispered, admiring my handiwork.

I printed the modified blueprints, labeling them clearly as "Final Drafts—Approved by Luna Morgan Alexander." Then I placed them in the safe hidden behind a false panel in my office wall.

The safe's digital lock required a code. I entered my birthday—a code I knew Clyde had watched me use countless times.

"Too obvious?" I wondered aloud, then smiled. "Not for someone as arrogant as you."

Finally, I called in my housekeeper. "I'll be visiting the Royal Lycan territory tomorrow," I announced, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. "I'll be gone for the day. Please inform the staff that my office will be closed until my return."

As the housekeeper nodded and left, I caught a glimpse of movement outside my door—a shadow that quickly disappeared.

"Let them come," I murmured, touching my father's signet ring for courage. "Let them think they've won."

I closed my eyes, imagining Clyde's smug satisfaction when he discovered the "unprotected" office and the easily accessed safe. Imagining Kayla's delight at claiming my work as her own.

And I imagined their faces when they realized what I'd done.

The trap was set. Now all I had to do was wait.

The engine of my black SUV hummed quietly as I drove away from the pack house, my hands steady on the wheel despite the storm raging inside me. I'd announced my departure loudly enough for everyone to hear—a day trip to Royal Lycan territory. A normal enough excursion that would raise no suspicions.

But I had no intention of leaving.

I checked my rearview mirror, confirming I wasn't being followed, then took a sharp turn onto a narrow forest road. The path wound through ancient pines, eventually opening to a small clearing where an abandoned hunting cabin sat nestled among the trees.

Perfect.

I parked behind the cabin, out of sight from the main road, and killed the engine. From this vantage point, I could see the pack house in the distance, its windows glowing amber in the fading light.

I reached into my bag and removed my tablet, fingers moving swiftly across the screen as I accessed the secure network. The office's hidden camera system was my own design—something Clyde had never bothered to learn about.

"Let's see how predictable I am," I murmured, touching my father's signet ring as the video feed connected.

The screen split into four views: my office entrance, the safe area, the desk, and the wider room. I turned up the audio, settling in for what could be a long wait.

Hours passed. The sun dipped below the horizon, and still, I waited.

Then, at precisely 9:17 PM, movement.

The door to my office swung open. Clyde strode in first, his posture arrogant, Kayla trailing behind him like a shadow.

"See?" Clyde boasted, gesturing to the empty office. "I told you she'd be gone all day."

Kayla's eyes darted nervously around the room. "What if she comes back early?"

"She won't." Clyde moved to my desk, fingers dancing across the surface. "Morgan is nothing if not predictable. She's probably at some boring family dinner, discussing Lycan lineage with her nose in the air."

I leaned closer to the screen, my jaw tightening at his dismissal.

"Now," Clyde continued, moving to the safe hidden behind the false panel, "let's get what we came for."

He punched in my birthday—six digits that unlocked more than just a safe.

"Too obvious," he chuckled, echoing my own thoughts from earlier. "She actually uses her own birthday as a code. As if no one would ever think to try it."

The safe clicked open. Clyde pulled out the blueprints, spreading them across my desk.

"Here," he said, handing them to Kayla. "Memorize these. Every detail."

Kayla's eyes widened as she took in the intricate designs. "This is... incredible."

"These will make you a star at the Summit," Clyde said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that the microphone captured perfectly. "You'll present them as your work. We'll say you're the true strategist behind Silverclaw's defense system."

"And Morgan?" Kayla asked, her fingers tracing the lines of my design.

Clyde's laugh was cold. "Morgan is just a figurehead. Once you're on the Council, I'll dump her. You're much more... useful."

Kayla giggled, the sound grating against my nerves. "She's such a frigid bitch. She doesn't deserve you."

"And she certainly doesn't deserve to be Luna," Clyde added. "But she's served her purpose. Her bloodline got me where I needed to go."

I reached for my phone, fingers trembling slightly as I recorded the audio feed. Every word, every admission—all of it now preserved as evidence.

When they finally left, blueprints in hand, I sat motionless in the cabin, the tablet still displaying my empty office.

The trap was sprung. Now it was time to call in the cavalry.

I started the car and drove to a secure location—a small cabin owned by the Royal family, hidden deep in the forest. Inside, I locked the door and pulled out my secure phone.

"Felix," I said when he answered, my voice steady despite everything.

"Morgan?" My brother's voice was instantly alert. "What's wrong?"

"I need you at the Grand Alpha Summit," I said, uploading the recording and financial evidence as we spoke. "I'm invoking Lycan Law for treason and theft of military secrets."

A pause, then: "How bad?"

"Bad enough to strip an Alpha of his title," I replied, touching my father's ring again. "Bad enough to exile an Omega."

"I'll be there," Felix promised, his voice hardening with protective fury. "With the Royal Guard."

As I ended the call, I stared out at the moon rising over the forest. In three days, at the Summit, I would reclaim what was mine—not just my designs or my position, but my dignity.

And Clyde would learn what happens when you betray a Lycan Princess.