My Twin Stole My Mate, So I Exposed Her at the Wedding

"I'm going back today."

I pulled the leather strap of my satchel tight, knotting it against my ribs.

Morgana dropped a bundle of dried hemlock onto the wooden table. Her dark eyes pinned me to the floorboards.

"Elena, are you ready?"

"Of course. I've already died once," I said, meeting her stare without flinching. "I have nothing left to care about."

"They won't believe a word you say." Morgana stepped between me and the cabin door, arms crossed. "Look at yourself. To them you're either a ghost or a madwoman."

"Adrian knows my eyes," I countered. "He knows my voice."

"Adrian didn't even notice when another woman took your place three months ago!" Morgana's voice cracked through the small room. "Elara walked out of those woods wearing your dress. She took your place. And now today, the bells are ringing for their union."

The phantom burn flared beneath my collarbone, deep in the veins where the poison had settled.

Morgana didn't blink. "And yet, you think walking into the Moonridge packhouse will fix that?"

"I am the rightful daughter."

"You are a curse to them." Morgana stepped closer, voice dropping. "Have you forgotten why you never knew she existed until three months ago? The elders decided it before you were even born. Twins mean ruin. One bloodline, two wolves—destruction. That was the decree."

"Your mother lied to an entire council!" Morgana continued. She threw her hands up, pacing the narrow space between the hearth and the table. "She kept you in the light and sent your father Alexander into exile with the second pup. Alexander took Elara to the mud and rot of the Blackthorn pack, hiding in the shadows for twenty years while you grew up wrapped in silk."

"I didn't choose that," I said through clenched teeth. "I didn't even know Elara was alive until the night of my engagement."

"And Alexander didn't bring her to celebrate your happiness with Alpha Adrian," Morgana warned. "He brought her to replace you."

The memory hit like ice water.

Three months ago, the packhouse had been ablaze with torches. The scent of roasted venison and sweet wine had filled the courtyard. Adrian had held my waist, kissing my temple in front of three hundred wolves, announcing that the Moonridge pack would soon have its Luna.

After the ceremony ended, my father had appeared by the garden archway secretly, pulling me aside into the shadows. Behind him stood a girl.

My exact mirror. The same green irises. The same high cheekbones. The same soft dip at the collarbone.

I had been overjoyed. I had thrown my arms around her neck. When she asked me to walk with her into the pine grove to talk in private, I didn't hesitate for a second.

I thought we would become good family.

Instead, she shoved me into the briars. She forced the venom between my lips until my blood felt like liquid fire. My wolf thrashed, suffocating under the venom's grip, crying out for Adrian, for my mother, for anyone.

*You don't deserve this face,* Elara had hissed, pressing the silver edge of a hunting knife deep into my cheek. The metal hissed against my skin, smoking with raw agony. *You stole my life in the sunlight, Elena. Now die in the dirt.*

She stripped the coat from my shoulders, took my signet ring, and walked away, leaving me alone in the dirt.

If Morgana hadn't found me bleeding out, I would have rotted into the earth.

"I begged her," I whispered, the rage drying up my throat. "I lay in the mud and begged my own twin to spare me. She kicked dirt over my chest and walked toward my fiancé."

"Which is why you stay here," Morgana insisted, grabbing my wrist. Her grip was iron. "You are not ready. You cannot go back there today."

"Why?" I pulled against her grip, searching her face. "You've kept me hidden for three months. Every time I ask you about the pack, you change the subject. Why are you so terrified of me back?"

"Because there are things you do not understand."

"Explain them to me, then!"

"No." Morgana released my arm and turned her back, picking up her woven harvesting basket. "Drink some tea on the stove. I am going to the ridge to gather moss. Do not open the door. Do not step past the boundary stones."

She didn't wait for my answer. She pushed open the heavy wooden door, the morning mist swallowing her silhouette within seconds.

I stood in the silence of the cabin.

On the mantle, a polished copper plate reflected what was left of me. The long pink scar ran jagged from cheekbone to chin, puckering the skin that once matched the girl standing beside Adrian.

"They won't believe me," I muttered to the empty room. "Then I will make them listen."

I took the small hunting dagger from Morgana's cutting board and tucked it inside my boot. I threw my dark hood over my head, pulling the fabric forward to shadow the ruined side of my face.

The door creaked as I slipped outside. The cold forest air bit into my lungs, crisp with pine and damp earth.

I didn't take the western trail toward the ridge where Morgana hunted for roots. I broke into a dead run toward the eastern gorge.

My muscles burned after weeks of bed rest, and my wolf lay curled in the dark corner of my mind, too weak to lend me her speed. But anger gave my legs strength.

Every stride brought back the echo of Elara's voice.

*You don't deserve this.*

Branches whipped against my cloak. The trees thinned as the ground sloped upward, leading toward the northern boundary line of the Moonridge territory.

Within an hour, the scent of white pine and woodsmoke drifted down the valley.

The Moonridge scent. My home.

I reached the crest of the hill overlooking the eastern checkpoint. Through the gray haze of the canopy, the wooden archway of the border post stood tall, wrapped in long silk streamers of pristine white and silver.

Wedding ribbons.

They were decorating the gates for the Luna's ceremony.

I moved toward the timber fence, stepping out from the cover of the spruce trees. Twigs snapped under my boots.

A sharp metallic click cut through the fog.

"Halt!" a voice barked from the brush.

A Moonridge scout stepped onto the path, his crossbow leveled straight at my throat. His gray pack crest gleamed on his shoulder leather.

"The border is closed for the Alpha's wedding," the guard growled, squinting through the mist. "Identify yourself, rogue, or I put an iron bolt through your neck."

I lowered both hands, taking a slow step into the daylight, and reached up to peel back my wool hood.

The guard froze. The color drained entirely from his face, and the tip of his crossbow dropped an inch toward the dirt.

"Lady... Elena?" he stammered, staring at the jagged silver scar across my jaw. "How... you're inside the chapel."