I was sipping my afternoon moon-tea when a scry-post caught my eye.

"My son was born right here in Northbridge Territory—and the moment he arrived, the pack matron gifted him eight nesting grounds and three market-dens!"

"His sire's already set aside 6.6 pounds of moon-gold for him. Any sweet she-wolves out there interested in becoming my future daughter-in-bond?"

The post was spreading like wildfire through the glamour-net. Tens of thousands of scent-marks and howls of approval.

I almost scrolled past—just another she-wolf fishing for attention—until I zoomed in on the images.

My blood ran cold.

Those nesting grounds. Those market-dens. They were my luna's grant. The ones I'd brought into my mating bond.

And that moon-gold? I could see the etching on the bars. My pup's initials.

How in the Moon Mother's name had they ended up in some stranger's post about her son?

——

I checked the territory markers on the market-dens again. Three consecutive claim-seals—the exact ones my parents had specifically chosen when I was mated. "For your future," they'd said. "Collect the tribute and live well."

As for the moon-gold, there was no mistaking it. Seren Ashvale's initials were etched right into the side.

My fingers flew across the scry-mirror: "Are these really yours?"

The reply came instantly.

"If they're not mine, what—are they yours?"

Before I could respond, more images appeared. A she-wolf draped in spelled silks, cradling an infant, surrounded by heaps of moon-gold and enchanted jewelry like some dragon guarding its hoard.

Then another message:

"I'm looking for a future daughter-in-bond, not a den-keeper."

"I checked your scent-trail. That pup of yours? Not exactly what we're looking for, sweetling."

The casual cruelty of it blanked my mind.

But the howl-thread had already descended into a feeding frenzy.

"Moon's teeth, the poster ate her UP! Some wolves are just bitter!"

"Right? Can't claim it yourself so you accuse others of glamour-forging? Pathetic!"

Someone had even captured my pup's images from my profile: "Poster's not wrong though—her pup is... yikes. And she's trying to get attention under this post?"

"Give it up, omega. The young heir doesn't want your little runt!"

My breath came in sharp, shallow bursts. The scry-mirror nearly slipped from my fingers.

Seren was five years old.

She was the light of my life—mine and Kael Ashvale's. We adored her.

And I had never—never—posted her images looking for some mating arrangement.

Where did these wolves get off saying these things about my pup?

I captured everything and sent it into the Ashvale pack bond-link: "How did MY belongings end up in someone else's post?"

Silence.

A few seconds stretched into eternity.

Then Morwen Ashvale's voice-sending popped up: "These things are all yours, dear. Did you post them somewhere on the glamour-net and someone stole the images?"

A sigh, dripping with false concern. "Honestly, you can't be too careful these days. All sorts of rogues prowling the scry-net."

Before I could reply, Kael's message appeared:

"Beloved, you probably shared those images somewhere before. They just used glamour-weaving to composite them into their own pictures."

"I already warned the poster and told her to take it down. Just ignore it."

He followed up with a captured image of his private sending to the she-wolf: "Greetings. These images appear to be stolen from someone else and constitute a violation of territory rights. Remove them immediately, or we will bring this before the pack tribunal."

I clicked back to the original post.

Gone.

That was fast.

I stared at my scry-mirror, something cold settling in my stomach. Finally, I sent a single word into the pack bond-link: "Okay."

Then I dimmed the mirror and looked up at my pack escort.

"Rowan Greyfen. Take me to Phoenix Den Row."

Kael's explanation made sense. On the surface.

Glamour-weaving was everywhere now. Forging images wasn't hard.

But I knew—knew with absolute certainty—that I had never posted pictures of those market-dens anywhere on the scry-net.

And I had never, not once, captured images of Seren's moon-gold.

And truly—what were the chances of a coincidence this exact?

The territory claim seal matched the location. The etching on the moon-gold matched too, rune for rune.

The carriage slowed to a halt before the market-den row.

I pushed open the door and looked up at the three connected storefronts built into the stone facade.

The warded glass of what had once been a textile den lay shattered across the cobblestones. Inside, workers were stripping the place bare, clearly preparing it for some kind of bloom-seller's stall.

My brow furrowed. The previous den-keeper had signed a ten-cycle lease—nowhere near its end. How could they possibly have been forced out?

And Kael had never breathed a word about changing tenants.

I quickened my pace and called out to one of the workers. "Who authorized this renovation?"

Before he could answer, a she-wolf in fine-spun silks emerged from inside.

She looked me up and down with open contempt. "It's my den. I'll renovate whenever I damn well please." Her voice was shrill, grating against my heightened senses. "Who the hell are you to question me?"

I stared at her face.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

It was her.

The she-wolf from the scry-post.

I locked eyes with her, jaw tight. "These three market-dens belong to me. What makes you think they're yours?"

She blinked, then let out a sharp laugh. "Yours? Honey, my mate gave these to me."

She fished a scrying mirror from her embroidered satchel and pulled up her glamour-stored images. "Open your eyes wide and look carefully—whose name is marked on these territory seals?"

Three claim certificates filled the reflective surface, lined up in a row.

Under "Holder," each one read: Raven Thornwilde.

My mind went blank.

How? A territory transfer couldn't happen without my consent and blood-mark. And I'd checked the vault before leaving—every seal, every certificate was still there. Only the moon-gold was missing.

Which meant these documents were almost certainly forged. Counterfeit scent-marks. Glamour-forgery of the highest order.

But forged papers alone couldn't evict a lawful den-keeper. Someone with authority over pack resources had made that happen.

Kael.

When I didn't respond, Raven drew out a long, mocking "Ohhhh."

"You're the owner of that textile den, aren't you?" She tilted her head, feigning sympathy. "My mate already told you—I wanted this space, and you were compensated. So why are you here making a scene?"

Her lips curled. "Unless the payout wasn't enough for you?"

I took a slow breath. Then I held up my own scrying mirror, pointing at the wolf whose image glowed on its surface.

"This is your mate?"

Raven leaned in to look.

The color drained from her face.

Then she screamed.

"How dare you keep my mate's image in your personal mirror!" She jabbed a finger at me, voice climbing to a shriek. "He's the Alpha of the Nightbloom Pack! You think a delusional little omega like you has a chance with him?!"

"I'm warning you—I just gave him a son! A strong, healthy pup! My bond-mother adores him!" Her chest heaved. "Give up already!"

Passersby stopped. Heads turned. A crowd of pack members and market-goers began to form.

And all I could feel was the sheer absurdity of it crashing over me like a wave.

I laughed.

The Nightbloom Pack was my father's territory—my bloodline's legacy. He'd only entrusted it to Kael to manage as Alpha-Consort. Since when did that make Kael the true Alpha?

And the real joke? Kael's doting mother—the she-wolf who smiled so sweetly at me, who played the perfect pack matron—she'd known about this affair all along.

Which meant she'd approved of my pup's moon-gold being handed over to Raven.

But spending my pack's resources to keep another she-wolf? That, I would not tolerate.

I snapped back to the present.

My hand moved before I could think.

Crack.

The slap echoed off the stone facades.

"Who are you calling a rogue omega?"

Raven stood frozen, palm pressed to her cheek, too stunned to react.

I looked down at her, eyes cold and wolf-bright. "You're the one warming another wolf's mate's bed, and you don't even have the self-awareness to be ashamed? You think that's something to be proud of?"

My voice hardened. "I'm ordering you to stop this renovation immediately. Or I'm summoning the pack enforcers."

The crowd swelled. Whispers rippled through the onlookers. Fingers pointed at Raven.

"Wait—so it's the bonded Luna confronting the mistress?"

"Looks like the mistress isn't even as pretty as the bonded mate. What was that wolf thinking?"

Raven's face twisted with fury. She lunged at me, claws extending as her fingers tangled in my hair. "I'm the mistress?!"

"I've been mated to my mate for three years! I just whelped his son! His mother even performed the naming rite herself!"

"Don't let her deceive you with her lies!"

Our bodies crashed together, struggling for dominance—and that's when my heightened senses caught it.

The moon-gold chain gleaming at her throat.

One of the pieces from my pup's stolen heirlooms. Seren's favorite, etched with protective runes by my own mother.

Rage ignited in my chest like wildfire. I tore the chain from her neck with a sharp yank. "You dare wear my pup's things?!"

"You're not worthy of touching them!"

She wasn't prepared for the force behind my pull. Raven crashed to the cobblestones, a thin line of blood welling where the chain had scraped across her skin.

I hadn't planned to cause a scene in the market-den.

But seeing my daughter's belongings displayed so boldly around this she-wolf's throat—I couldn't swallow that insult down.

I held up the necklace for the gathered pack members to see, my voice cutting through the murmuring crowd. "There's an engraving on this. My pup Seren's initials, marked in the old script!"

"You and Kael can expect a summons from the pack tribunal!"

The words had barely left my mouth when something slammed into me from behind.

I lost my footing. The necklace was wrenched from my grip.

Kael's voice exploded above me: "Who the hell said those are your pup's initials?!"

I was on the ground. My knees had landed on scattered shards of broken pottery—pain shot through me, sharp enough to steal my breath.

I looked up, my wolf snarling beneath my skin.

Kael had Raven cradled protectively against his chest, his body curved around her in a shielding stance. And behind him stood Morwen, his mother, holding an infant wrapped in ceremonial swaddling in her arms.

So that was Kael's illegitimate pup.

When I'd whelped Seren, Morwen had claimed she wasn't experienced enough to assist with the birthing. Said she'd rather hire an expensive nursemaid from the healer's circle than risk harming my daughter with her inexpert hands.

Now I understood the truth. She simply preferred male heirs to carry the Ashvale name.

Before I could process any of it, Kael turned to face me fully. The disgust burning in his amber eyes hit me like a physical blow.

"Lyra!" His lip curled back, revealing the sharp points of his canines. "Are you done with your little breakdown? Then get out of here. Stop harassing my mate!"

Mate?

Kael was publicly acknowledging his affair? Claiming this she-wolf as his bonded before the entire pack?

He didn't wait for my reaction. He turned back to Raven, gently refastening the moon-gold chain around her throat, his gaze soft with concern as he smoothed her disheveled hair. "Sweetheart, are you hurt anywhere?"

"You just whelped—you can't let yourself get upset like this. Does your belly pain you?"

Raven melted against his broad chest, pointing at me through theatrical sobs that filled the air with the sharp scent of false distress. "My love, she said the nesting grounds you gave me are hers. She even tried to steal the moon-gold you had crafted for me!"

"Who... who is she?"

Kael glanced at me, his expression flat and cold as winter stone. "I told you before. There's a rogue omega at the pack hall who won't stop throwing herself at me. That's her."

"I'll handle this nuisance. Don't worry your pretty head about it."

The crowd's murmuring shifted. Understanding dawned on their faces—followed by open contempt. They looked at me and laughed, their scorn washing over me in waves.

"Oh, so she's the delusional rogue. I was wondering why any wolf would stray with someone plainer than his bonded mate."

"Trying to seduce someone's mate and then destroying his mate's claimed territory? What's wrong with this she-wolf?"

"Why are you so obsessed with another wolf's belongings? Howling about it won't make them yours."

I laughed—a hollow, disbelieving sound that scraped from my throat.

I looked straight at Kael, each word precise and clear. "Kael. That moon-gold has my pup Seren's initials engraved on it. You commissioned the work yourself from the pack smith. What exactly are you trying to claim?"

His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. "Who told you that?"

"The initials are obviously my mate's and my surnames. S and L."

What?

My mind went blank. S and L? For... their names?

But Kael had told me himself—our pup would be called Seren, Seren of the Ashvale line, because she was the living proof of our sacred bond.

Which meant...

When my daughter was born, they were already together.