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.

I returned to the Pack House the following morning, my face a carefully composed mask of indifference. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows across the grounds as I walked through the main entrance. I'd spent the night in the Royal family's cabin, finalizing my plan with Felix over secure channels.

Clyde was waiting in the foyer, his posture relaxed as if he hadn't a care in the world. When he saw me, his face broke into a wide smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"There's my Luna," he said, stepping forward to embrace me.

I allowed the hug, noting how his hands lingered a moment too long at the small of my back—a possessive gesture that once might have comforted me. Now it felt like the touch of a thief.

"I worked on those blueprints all night," he said, pulling back to look at me. "They're perfect."

"Are they?" I asked, my voice neutral.

"Absolutely." His eyes gleamed with pride—pride in my work, in my genius. "The Council will be impressed."

"I'm sure they will," I replied, the double meaning clear only to me.

Clyde's hand found mine, squeezing it as if in reassurance. "You know, Morgan, I've been thinking. You don't need to speak at the Summit."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It's better if you just sit and look pretty," he continued, his tone patronizing. "Politics can be... messy. Let me and my new advisor handle the heavy lifting."

"Your new advisor?" I kept my expression curious rather than accusatory.

"Kayla Woods. She has a keen mind for strategy." His thumb stroked the back of my hand. "You should trust my judgment on this."

I smiled then—a terrifyingly calm smile that seemed to unsettle him slightly. "Of course, Alpha. Whatever you think is best."

---

The journey to the Grand Alpha Summit was excruciating in its tension. I sat in the front passenger seat beside Dorian, our pack's loyal Gamma and my trusted confidant. Behind us, Clyde and Kayla huddled together, their whispers barely audible over the hum of the engine.

"The Northern Wall will be the centerpiece," Clyde murmured, his voice low but not low enough. "When you present it, remember to emphasize the sensor grid's sensitivity."

"It's brilliant," Kayla replied, her tone reverent. "Who would have thought of using moonstone dust in the foundation?"

I clenched my jaw but kept my eyes forward, watching the landscape blur past. My father's signet ring burned in my pocket, a reminder of who I was—what I was.

Dorian's eyes met mine briefly in the rearview mirror. He knew. He had always known. His loyalty had never wavered.

"The Summit is being held at the Blackstone Hotel this year," Dorian said, his voice deliberately louder than necessary. "Security will be tight."

"Good thing we're prepared," I replied, my fingers closing around the ring in my pocket.

Behind us, Kayla's nervous laugh cut through the silence. "I still can't believe I'll be sitting at the Strategist's table."

"You've earned it," Clyde assured her, his hand finding hers on the seat between them.

I turned slightly, catching Kayla's eye in the mirror. She quickly looked away, but not before I saw the flash of triumph in her gaze.

Let her have her moment. It would make the fall all the more devastating.

---

The Grand Alpha Summit was held in the Blackstone Hotel's grand ballroom—a cavernous space with vaulted ceilings and crystal chandeliers that cast prismatic light across the gathered dignitaries. Alphas from across the region mingled in small groups, their deep voices creating a rumbling backdrop of power and politics.

We arrived fashionably late—a power move on Clyde's part. He strode through the entrance with the confidence of a man who believed himself untouchable, Kayla trailing behind him like a shadow in expensive clothing.

"Alpha Rivera," greeted Harlan Cross, a seasoned Alpha from the neighboring Silver Creek Pack. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd make it."

"Wouldn't miss it," Clyde replied with a hearty laugh that sounded forced to my ears. "I've brought someone special today."

He guided Kayla forward, his hand at the small of her back. "This is Kayla Woods, our pack's new Strategic Advisor."

Harlan's eyebrows rose slightly—a subtle acknowledgment of the unusual promotion of an Omega to such a visible position.

"A pleasure," Kayla said, her voice soft but eager.

I followed at a distance, watching as Clyde led her to the seat reserved for the Pack Strategist—a position typically held by the Beta or Gamma. The move was deliberate, a public declaration of Kayla's elevated status.

While they basked in the attention of nearby Alphas, I slipped away to a shadowed corner of the ballroom. From this vantage point, I could observe everything—the trap I had set, the players taking their positions, the inevitable moment when it would spring shut.

I touched my father's signet ring one last time, drawing strength from it as I watched Clyde gesture expansively toward Kayla, who was already opening the portfolio containing my stolen designs.

The Council members were beginning to take their seats at the head table. Soon, the presentations would begin.

Soon, everything would change.