My Alpha—Alaric Vandolph—did not truly die.

He only wanted the world to believe he had, all so he could claim another she-wolf as his mate.

I grieved him. Truly grieved. I broke apart piece by piece, swallowed by sorrow, convinced the Moon Goddess had taken him before we could ever exchange vows.

Then he came back.

Or so I believed.

A man entered our pack wearing Alaric’s face. The same eyes. The same voice. The same smile that once belonged only to me. I thought my Alpha had returned from death itself… until the truth clawed its way out.

There was no twin.

Theo Vandolph had never existed.

It was all a lie—a carefully staged illusion. Alaric had never been killed. He had orchestrated his own death to fulfill Elowen’s so-called dying wish: to become his wife before she “passed.”

But Elowen was never dying.

She never intended to die at all.

She only wanted him.

And Alaric chose her—freely, willingly, without hesitation.

The betrayal tore deeper than any wolf’s claws. He deceived me. He stripped me of everything—my future, my faith, my dignity. Even the child growing inside me was taken when he told me our unborn pup was gone.

That was when I decided.

“Fake my death,” I said to my father, the Alpha who raised me.

If Alaric could watch me mourn him, then he would drink the same poison. He would grieve me. He would ache for me.

And when I rise from the ashes of my false grave…

He will finally understand what it means to lose everything.

...

Aveline’s POV

The moon has always followed my life like a silent guardian.

I was born beneath its glow, wrapped in silver light, chosen from birth to become a Luna. And tonight—of all nights—I was meant to stand atop Moonlight Cliff, the holiest ground in our territory. There, my Alpha, my fiancé, was supposed to slide the moonstone ring onto my finger and bind me to him forever.

Alpha Alaric Vandolph.

My Alaric.

That morning, the title Luna of Vandolph felt unreal on my tongue—sweet, sacred, earned. As I adjusted the pale silk gown clinging softly to my body, I pressed a hand over my stomach. A quiet smile curved my lips.

No one else knew yet.

But inside me, life was growing.

Three weeks old. Fragile. No bigger than a small fruit. Yet alive—proof of our bond. The future heir of two powerful packs, born of an Alpha and his Luna.

The day meant to crown my happiness instead shattered it beyond repair.

I was riding toward the cliff when the forest-lined road twisted ahead of us, branches whispering in the wind. The driver reached to turn on the radio.

The voice that spilled out was shaking.

“This just in… Moonlight Cliff has been attacked. Witnesses report an assault by the Lycan Prince—the cursed ruler of the East. There were no survivors. All wolves present are presumed dead.”

My fingers went numb.

The car swayed before the driver corrected the wheel, his face pale. My heartbeat roared in my ears. Air refused to reach my lungs.

“No… no, please—no,” I murmured, shaking my head as if denial could erase the words.

When we finally arrived, the scent of blood struck first.

It wasn’t just death—it was violation. The ground was soaked crimson. Warriors of my pack had fallen here. And there, gleaming faintly beneath the moon’s cold gaze, lay the moonstone ring Alaric had promised to place on my finger.

There was no body.

Only blood.

They said the Lycan Prince must have thrown the bodies into the abyss below.

My legs gave out. I collapsed, clutching the ring to my chest as though it could keep my heart from tearing apart. Inside me, my wolf wailed—a broken, hollow sound that echoed through the night. Tears blinded me. My hand flew instinctively to my stomach.

I screamed.

Until my throat burned raw.

Until even the moon must have heard me.

When my voice failed, I sat there—empty, shaking—the ring scorching my palm like a cruel reminder.

A week later, we buried a coffin filled with nothing.

Packs from every corner arrived dressed in black. Still, I waited. Some foolish part of me believed Alaric would appear at the gates, laughing, apologizing for being late.

But the coffin descended.

And with it, my last hope vanished.

Then he appeared.

A man walked into the packhouse with the same stride. The same sharp gaze. The same face that haunted my dreams.

He introduced himself as Theo—Alaric’s forgotten twin.

No one had ever mentioned a twin. Not once. Yet there he stood, beside a woman who clung to him. His wife, Elowen Brookefield.

His voice was slightly rougher. His smile too tight. But gods—he looked like Alaric.

My heart twisted painfully.

Coincidence, I told myself. Fate was cruel—but not monstrous enough to mock me with his face.

I was wrong.

That night, drawn toward the Alpha quarters—the rooms meant to be mine—I overheard the truth.

Voices drifted through the door.

“You’ve gone too far, Alaric,” his mother whispered, anguish thick in her tone. “You faked your death. You abandoned Aveline while she’s pregnant and grieving. This is insanity.”

Ice flooded my veins.

Then his voice answered. The voice I loved.

“I had no alternative,” he said heavily. “Elowen begged me. She’s dying. She wanted to be my wife before the end. I owed her that. She was once my everything.”

My chest constricted.

“You left Aveline alone,” his mother snapped. “You left her carrying your child!”

“I’ll explain once Elowen is gone,” he replied. “Aveline is strong. Besides, we weren’t mated yet—she wasn’t bound to my soul. She’s my fiancée. She’ll forgive me.”

Forgive him?

My legs nearly collapsed beneath me.

I had mourned him. I had buried him in my heart. And all along, he lived—wearing another name, lying effortlessly to my face.

For Elowen.

For the woman who once left him and returned only when it suited her.

A sob escaped before I could stop it. I fled to my room, gripping the moonstone ring so tightly it sliced my skin. I wanted to throw it away, to destroy it—but my wolf restrained me, torn between fury and heartbreak.

With shaking hands, I messaged my father.

Father. I want to fake my death.

My phone rang immediately.

“Aveline,” his voice thundered, “what are you saying? What has happened?”

I told him everything.

How Alaric chose another.

How he let me grieve him.

How he left me pregnant and shattered.

“I want him to feel this,” I whispered. “If he could die for me, then I can die for him.”

After a long pause, my father growled softly. “Very well. Rest. I will handle it.”

The call ended.

A knock followed.

My wolf stiffened. His scent seeped through—altered by magic, but unmistakable.

Alaric.

I smoothed my expression before opening the door.

He smiled gently. “You don’t look well,” he said, holding a glass of orange juice—my favorite. “You should drink. For yourself. And the baby.”

My chest tightened.

“You’re so thoughtful,” I replied lightly. “Theo.”

He nodded. “You’re carrying my brother’s child. It’s my duty to protect you.”

I tilted my head. “Funny how you know my favorite drink. Are you sure you’re not my Alpha?”

His face drained of color—just for a moment—before he laughed awkwardly. “The maid mentioned it.”

“Did she?” I murmured.

“Yes. I swear. How could I be Alaric? We’re different,” he insisted, the lie smooth from practice.

I raised the glass. “Thank you. I’ll drink it later.”

Another knock interrupted us.

“Love?” Elowen’s soft voice floated in.

I froze.

Alaric hesitated—then went to her, wrapping an arm around her waist as she stepped inside. She wore the same lingerie he once gave me.

My stomach churned.

There they stood.

My Alpha.

My betrayer.

Aveline’s POV

I first encountered Alaric years ago—long before he became Alpha, when he was still merely the successor waiting in the shadows of the throne. It was during a formal banquet, a night heavy with power and pretense. Jewels glimmered beneath torchlight, crowns weighed down proud heads, and the air smelled of ambition.

Yet somehow, among all that splendor, my eyes found him.

He stood apart, calm and magnetic, like moonlight cutting through darkness. He wasn’t my destined mate—my wolf gave no cry, no pull, no instinctive recognition the stories always promised. But the way he looked at me made it feel as though fate had already chosen.

When he approached me, when his voice slipped around my senses like silk, I believed every promise he breathed.

“You may not be bound to me by destiny, Aveline,” he murmured that night, his fingers brushing mine beneath the linen-draped table. “But I will choose you every day. I’ll swear vows stronger than fate itself. I won’t deceive you. I won’t hurt you. You will stand beside me as my Luna—no one else.”

Those vows once felt sacred.

Now, they were nothing but dust.

That morning, I woke with nausea curling in my stomach. My head throbbed relentlessly, my limbs heavy, my wolf withdrawn deep inside me as if she refused to wake. Only three weeks had passed since conception, yet my body already felt different—strained, altered, preparing itself to protect the fragile life growing within.

I had a hospital appointment scheduled. I couldn’t put it off.

When Alaric—no, Theo—came to my room, concern softened his features. He crouched beside the bed, lowering himself to my level.

“How’s the little one?” he asked gently. Too gently.

“I don’t feel right,” I confessed, resting my palm against my abdomen. “I need to see a doctor.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately, his response almost too quick. His hand closed over mine. “You’re carrying my brother’s child—the future Alpha. I won’t allow anything to happen to you.”

For one brief second, my wolf stirred.

For one fragile moment, hope flickered.

Then the door opened.

Elowen stepped inside, cloaked in pale fabrics that made her appear delicate, almost otherworldly. She moved as if unsteady, fingers pressed to her temple, lips trembling with practiced weakness.

“Alpha…” she breathed softly.

My muscles locked.

Alaric’s attention snapped to her as if pulled by instinct. Whatever warmth he had shown me vanished instantly. He crossed the room, gripping her arm as though she might crumble without his support.

“Elowen,” he said urgently. “What’s wrong?”

She lifted her gaze to his, cheeks faintly flushed. “I don’t feel well. I think I might faint.”

His eyes flicked toward me for the briefest moment—hesitation, guilt, something unreadable flashing there.

Then it disappeared.

Elowen sagged against him, clutching his chest. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Something feels… wrong.”

He wrapped an arm around her, shielding her as though she were the one in danger.

“I’ll take Elowen to the hospital first,” he said, his tone suddenly firm, detached. “You can attend your appointment alone. You understand.”

I did not argue.

I went by myself.

The hospital corridors felt endless, sterile, cold. My legs trembled with every step. My wolf prowled restlessly inside me, furious and wounded by his abandonment. When the nurse guided me into the ultrasound room and the screen flickered to life, tears spilled freely.

There it was.

Tiny. Fragile. Alive.

A heartbeat no bigger than a whisper.

Love flooded me so fiercely it hurt.

Later, I sat alone in the waiting lounge, staring blankly at the television. A concert filled the screen—music loud, vibrant. I hummed quietly, trying to distract myself, trying to soothe the ache clawing at my chest.

Then the camera shifted.

It scanned the audience—laughing couples, hands entwined, faces glowing.

My breath stopped.

There they were.

Alaric and Elowen.

The spotlight lingered on them. The camera framed them as a pair.

They tried to hide their faces, but I saw everything—the way his hand rested possessively against her back, the way she leaned into him like she belonged there.

Elowen wasn’t sick.

She was dancing. Smiling. Alive.

While I sat alone in a hospital chair carrying his child.

My stomach twisted violently. Rage and grief collided inside me until I could hardly breathe.

Hours later, as I rode back toward the packhouse, my phone vibrated.

A message—from Elowen.

Against my better judgment, I opened it.

A photo.

She was sprawled across the backseat of a car, Alaric’s arm wrapped around her waist, her head resting comfortably in his lap. They looked flushed, radiant, satisfied.

Something inside me shattered.

My wolf screamed, her pain splintering through my bones.

I covered my mouth to keep from crying out.

When I reached the packhouse, desperation took over. I called him. Again and again. My hands shook violently.

Answer me. Please. I’ll forgive you. Just tell me it’s not real. Tell me I’m still yours. I’ll give you another chance—any number of chances—if you just come back.

Then the call connected.

Relief surged through me—

Only to be destroyed.

Soft moans. A woman’s breathless laughter. A man’s low groan.

“Alaric,” Elowen gasped.

The line went dead.

So did my world.

That night, I didn’t change my clothes. I didn’t think. I walked back to the hospital in a numb haze, my wolf utterly silent.

At the desk, my voice came out broken.

“I want to terminate the pregnancy,” I whispered. “It’s three weeks.”

---

By morning, I returned to the packhouse empty, exhausted beyond words.

Alaric—Theo—was seated at the table, breakfast prepared neatly.

“Aveline,” he greeted me with a smile. “I made what you like. You need to eat—for the baby.”

I walked past him.

His hand grabbed my arm.

The same hand that had touched her.

“You have to look after yourself,” he said softly. “You’re carrying my brother’s heir.”

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped, wrenching free.

I climbed the stairs—and stopped.

Elowen stood there.

Radiant. Perfect. Glowing with health and triumph. She looked like a Luna already, basking in something stolen.

She smiled.

“I sent you that photo on purpose,” she said calmly. “And I answered Alaric’s phone. I wanted you to hear.”

My wolf snarled, but my body wouldn’t move.

She leaned close, her perfume suffocating. “I was never sick, Aveline. I pretended. I needed time with him. And now I’ll use every month I have to make him mine again—to mark him, bind him.”

“You’re lying,” I whispered.

She laughed. “Am I?”

She lifted her hand.

A moonstone ring gleamed on her finger—larger, brighter, far more extravagant than mine.

“Better suited for me, don’t you think?” she murmured. “Alaric was always mine. And he always will be.”

Aveline’s POV

The summons arrived on thick parchment, its surface rough beneath my fingertips, sealed with silver wax impressed with the ancient Lycan crest. My hands shook as I broke the seal. The Lycans were legends among our kind—rare, old beyond memory, powerful enough that even Alphas spoke their name with caution. They did not attend gatherings. They did not entertain outsiders. For generations, they had remained distant observers, watching the rest of us from the shadows.

And yet, they had called for us.

I understood why well enough. My father’s pack—Thorndike—had always maintained a measured alliance with them. Respectful. Careful. As his daughter, my presence was expected, whether I welcomed it or not.

Still, my wolf shifted uneasily at the thought.

Because I knew he would be there.

Alaric—Theo, as he now called himself—could never ignore a Lycan summons. And he would undoubtedly arrive with Elowen clinging to his arm, playing the devoted husband, basking in stolen legitimacy.

My wolf growled low in my chest.

That evening, I dressed in something I hadn’t dared wear since the night Alaric “died.” Midnight-colored silk flowed over my skin like liquid shadow, molding to my body, the back cut daringly low, baring skin that caught the moonlight with every step. It felt like armor and defiance woven into one.

The Lycan gathering took place inside a vast stone hall, its walls carved directly from the mountain itself. Torches burned with pale, silvery flames, casting shifting shadows. Their presence filled the space—ancient, overwhelming, pressing down on every wolf who dared breathe too loudly. When the Lycans moved among us, even in human form, conversations died. Their eyes glowed faintly, watching everything.

As I entered, attention followed.

My wolf lifted her head proudly. So did I.

I felt his stare before I saw him.

Alaric froze when his gaze landed on me. His expression cracked—just briefly—his breath hitching as though I had knocked the wind from him. For one fleeting moment, the false skin of “Theo” peeled away, and there he was. My Alpha. The man who once swore he would love me harder than fate ever could.

Then Elowen latched onto his arm.

She leaned into him, trembling theatrically, fingers clutching his sleeve as though she might collapse without his support. It was repulsive. And he let her hold him there. He didn’t take a step toward me.

I looked away.

The evening unfolded as tradition demanded—formal greetings, respectful bows, careful words exchanged with beings who rarely showed themselves. But no wolf gathering ended with courtesy alone.

Two Alphas stepped forward to challenge one another. Clothes were discarded. Bones snapped. Massive wolves emerged, snarls reverberating against stone. The hall came alive with excitement.

The wagering began.

Gold changed hands. Furs were thrown onto tables. Warriors offered blades, Betas prized heirlooms. Shouts rang out, fevered and hungry.

Then I spoke.

“I will place a wager.”

The room stilled.

Every gaze turned toward me.

From my grasp, I withdrew the moonstone ring—the one smeared with blood, the one I had clutched while screaming beneath the moon. The ring Alaric had meant to give me on the cliff.

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd.

“This,” I said, lifting it high, my voice calm despite the ache tearing through my chest, “was the engagement ring of my late fiancé. The Alpha who was meant to be my mate. I stake it on this duel.”

The silence that followed was heavy, stunned.

I felt Alaric’s stare like fire against my skin—rage, disbelief, something raw vibrating through the remnants of a bond I no longer acknowledged.

I didn’t flinch.

I placed the ring before the weaker Alpha. Murmurs erupted into shocked exclamations. To wager something so irreplaceable on a likely loss was insanity.

That was precisely the point.

The fight erupted—claws tearing, bodies slamming into stone.

As expected, the weaker Alpha fell.

The victor claimed my ring amid roaring cheers.

I smiled—sharp, brittle—lifted my chin, and walked away with my heart bleeding quietly inside my chest.

The air shifted.

He stood directly in my path.

Alaric—Theo—blocking me, his expression dark, his eyes burning with emotion he could no longer mask.

“What was that?” he demanded, his voice tight with restrained fury. “That ring belonged to my brother. It symbolized his promise to you. How could you discard it so carelessly?”

I met his gaze without warmth. My wolf stood steady beside me.

“Because that chapter is finished,” I replied evenly. “Your brother is dead. Whatever he promised died with him. The ring holds no value anymore.”

His mouth parted, but nothing came out. For once, Alaric Vandolph—the Alpha who always controlled the room—had nothing to say.

I walked past him.

But Elowen stopped me.

She ambushed me in a corridor, rage twisting her flawless face. “You pathetic bitch,” she spat, slamming me into the wall. “You think you’re clever? Parading your grief to steal attention? Feeding on everyone’s sympathy?”

Her nails bit into my arm as she shoved me into a side room. The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

Darkness swallowed me.

No windows. No light. No escape.

My chest seized as panic surged upward, old memories crashing in—being ten years old, trapped in a cellar, scratching at the door until my fingers bled, screaming for help that never came.

“No—please—no,” I gasped, pounding at the door.

My wolf bucked wildly, but the walls felt like they were closing in. Air vanished. Darkness pressed in.

I crumpled to the floor.

When they found me nearly an hour later, my body was slack, breath shallow, sweat soaking my gown.

And Alaric?

Not one call. Not one message.

Later, I learned Elowen had told him I’d gone off alone to mourn—and he believed her without question.

---

When I returned to the packhouse, the scene waiting for me made my stomach twist violently.

They were all there—Alaric, Elowen, his parents. A small crowd had gathered. Alaric stood at the center, gripping a stack of papers.

My wolf bristled.

Then I saw what they were.

Termination forms.

My body locked in place.

“How dare you,” Alaric roared, his eyes blazing. “How could you destroy my brother’s heir?”

A hollow laugh bubbled up inside me. Even now—he was still pretending. Still hiding behind that miserable lie.

Elowen stepped forward, her voice dripping venom. “You’re disgusting. You slaughtered an innocent life. You never wanted that pup. You only wanted the drama of being a widow.”

His mother struck me hard across the face. “Murderer,” she hissed.

The room spun.

Then Alaric hit me.

The sound cracked through the silence, my head snapping sideways. Pain flared—but my wolf did not whine.

Slowly, I straightened, blood metallic on my tongue.

“Why does this concern you so deeply, Theo?” I asked quietly. “Why grieve a child that was never yours? You are not my Alpha. Not my fiancé. You’re nothing more than his so-called twin.”

His eyes flared—denial, fury, agony all tangled together.

I didn’t wait for his answer.

I turned to all of them.

“I’m finished,” I said coldly. “I sever every tie to Vandolph Pack. Whatever love I had died tonight—along with the moonstone ring I gave away. And with it, my heart followed.”

No one spoke.

I walked out.