Transcription
I thought I knew what strength looked like more than most. To me, it meant never backing down from a fight. It meant being the first into battle and the last to retreat. It meant standing between the innocent and those who would harm them, no matter the cost to myself. That's what I'd been taught. That's what I'd proven time and time again through years of training and sacrifice. Every scar on my body told a story of survival, of fighting alongside my pack against the tyrant Alpha King Micah, who'd stolen our rightful lands and driven us into exile.
But tonight, as my packmates celebrated around the campfire, passing flasks and recounting their favorite moments from our latest fight, I would learn my physical strength meant nothing at all. It started when Kai touched my shoulder, leaning close. "Walk with me?" he asked. There's something I need to discuss away from the others. I followed without question. Of course, I did. This was Kai, my best friend, my brother in all but blood, my future alpha, the wolf I'd pledged my life to protect and to put on the throne as was his rightful place.
The forest was peaceful under the full moon and Kai's scent, white amber and frost, was as familiar as my own. "To another victory," he said, handing me a drink. "To many more," I agreed and drank. The liquid burned going down, but not in the way wine usually did. This was different. Wrong. By the time I noticed, my limbs were already growing heavy. "Kai." The flask slipped from my fingers. "What is?" He caught me as I fell, lowering me gently to the forest floor. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, pet," he murmured. And I saw the knife then, moonlight glinting off steel. I tried to move, to fight, to do anything, but my body wouldn't obey. All my strength, all those years of training meant nothing now. I couldn't move, couldn't fight, couldn't even scream.
And I was about to learn that true strength wasn't measured in victories or scars. It was measured in what you did when everything you believed in shattered. And when the people you trusted most became your enemies, I was about to learn that real strength meant stand back up and fighting anyway, not with fists or fangs, but with resilience. The kind of strength that meant holding on to hope when despair pressed hardest. The kind that meant keeping my heart alive even when betrayal tried to break it. I had spent my whole life learning to be a warrior. Now I was about to discover what it truly meant to be strong. Because someday I would need more than a warrior's edge. I would need the courage to trust, to love, and to let compassion become my greatest weapon.
Chapter 1.
I wake up feeling like I've been hit by a truck. Several trucks and maybe a cart for good measure. My head's pounding and for a second I wonder if I'm hung over. Wouldn't be the first time or even the 10th. But then Kai's face flashes through my mind. The knife, the poison, the helplessness. My hands snapped to my chest, searching for wounds that aren't there. Oh, thank the gods. Only a nightmare, I tell myself. But it felt so real. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth, his scent of white amber and frost, the wait, where in the world am I?
I crack open my eyes and find myself in what has to be the fanciest bedchamber I've ever seen. The bed alone is bigger than my entire sleeping quarters back at camp. Silk sheets, velvet curtains. The kind of luxury I've only seen when raiding rich pack estates. Before I can process any of this, the door bursts open and two girls in black uniforms rush in, nearly tripping over their own skirts in their hurry. "My lady, you're awake," one of them squeals. "We were so worried." I look around for whoever they're talking to, but there's nobody else here beside me that I can see. "Lady Landra, are you feeling better?" the other one asks, pressing a cool hand to my forehead. I try to swat her away, but my arm feels weird. Light, wrong. Everything feels wrong, like I'm wearing someone else's skin. "Who's Lisan?" I start to ask, but get interrupted by another dramatic entrance.
A woman in an emerald green dress sweeps in, wreaking of omega pheromones and expensive perfume. "Oh, Lisandra, darling, my precious daughter, what were you thinking?" She grabs my hand and I'm too stunned by her calling me daughter to immediately yank it back. "My lady," one of the maids says gently. "The healer said Landre needs time to wait just a minute." I cut in, finally finding my voice. It comes out higher than usual. "I think there's been some kind of mistake."
"Oh, thank the gods she can speak," Green dress exclaims with the mating ceremony so close. "Imagine if she'd been left mute or worse." She shudders delicately, disfigured. "Look, lady," I try again, scooting away from her. "I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not getting mated to anyone anytime soon. You feel me?" They all stare at me like I've grown a second head. "Why is she speaking like a peasant?" Green dress stage whispers to the maids.
"I can hear you," I snap, but it doesn't come out nearly as threatening as usual. "I'm not this Landra person, okay?" The slap catches me off guard. Not because I didn't see it coming, but because it actually hurts. Usually, it takes a lot more than some Omega's backhand to make me flinch. "Landre Evangelene Vtoria," she shrieks. "If you think for one second you can act your way out of this marriage." I slap her back hard, or what should have been hard. Instead of knocking her out cold like my slaps usually do, the woman just yelps and stumbles back, clutching her cheek. Something is very, very wrong here. But I'm not about to show weakness. "How dare you raise your hand to me?" I scowl. "Try it again and you won't have any more hands at all." "Is this how this woman treats her own daughter?" Almost makes me feel glad to be an orphan.
"My lady," one of the maids gasps, clutching my arm. "When did you learn to fight back like this?" "You mean the slap?" "It's all in the wrist," I demonstrate, rolling mine around. When I try to get out of bed, my legs nearly give out. Everything feels off balance, like my center of gravity has shifted. Even my wolf feels different inside me. Softer, somehow, more docile. "Do you want help getting ready?" a maid catches my arm. "The king would like to see you." I freeze. "Excuse me. Did you just say the king?" "Yes," Green dress says like I'm finally getting it. "The alpha king Micah wants to officially greet you on his territory."
My heart nearly stops. I've been captured. This can't be happening. I'm Arya, the demon wolf, Micah's most wanted, the rebel who's been raiding his supplies, attacking his guards, making his life miserable for years. My head is worth more than most pack ransoms. And here I am, supposedly in his actual territory. "Where exactly are we?" I gasp. "Near the borders." "Well, obviously not, daughter mine," Green dress scoffs. "We're in the king's palace." His palace? Oh, gods. I should be in chains right now. In his deepest dungeon. Micah's people have been trying to catch me for years. There's probably a whole wall in their war room dedicated to hunting me down. So why am I being catered to in a fancy room? A tiny hope flutters in my chest. Could it be that no one has yet to recognize me? After all, I've never actually met Micah, his son. However, now that's a different story. "What about Rafe?" I mean, I clear my throat. "What about the prince? Is he here?" "Why, yes, he came home last night," the lady green tells me with a conspicuous smile that makes me gulp. I'm in trouble. If Ray finds me here, I'm as good as dead.
While I'm quickly calculating escape plans, the maids drag me to a vanity mirror. I look up, considering taking one hostage, and pause. There's an Omega girl at the vanity. Must be the Landre they keep talking about. Dainty little thing, heart-shaped face, huge baby blue eyes, pouty pink lips, waves of golden hair. She looks as confused as I feel. I snort at how out of place I must look next to her. She snorts, too, the delicate gesture wrong on her perfect face. I frown, wondering why she's copying me. She frowns back, her princess features scrunching up. Something cold settles in my stomach. Slowly, I raise my hand to my cheek. The Omega does the same. My fingers, small, soft, unfamiliar fingers, touch smooth skin that hasn't seen a scar or callous in its life. I lean forward. She leans forward. I bear my teeth. She bears hers. Perfect white pearls. Not a single one chipped from fighting. "No," I whisper, and perfect pink lips move with my words. The scream that tears from my throat, this strange sweet Omega throat, is definitely not a warrior's roar.
Chapter 2.
I don't know what to freak out about first. The fact that I'm somehow stuck in the body of some Omega princess called Landre, or that I'm casually strolling through enemy territory without anyone trying to kill me. A guard actually bowed to me. Bowed to me. Usually they're too busy throwing knives at my head. This is surreal. This whole morning has been surreal. I got a bath, an actual bath with rose petals and everything. Then breakfast with real coffee and fresh pastries. Now I'm wearing a gown that probably costs more than everything I own combined. They even painted my face, though I don't see the point since this Landre girl already looks like a porcelain doll.
"Stop fidgeting," Isa, the green-dressed woman who's apparently my mother hisses. "You're acting like a common beta." I resist the urge to tell her exactly what this common beta thinks of her attitude. This is too good an opportunity to waste. I'm right in the heart of enemy territory, and they're letting me walk around like I own the place. Kai's going to laugh his rear end off when he hears about this. The demon wolf right under their noses. Kai. My chest tightens unexpectedly. For a second, I see moonlight glinting off a blade. Smell white amber and frost. Feel the sharp bite of steel. No, that was just a dream. Had to be. Kai would never hurt me. He's my best friend, my brother, my alpha to be, the true heir, my purpose, the one I've sworn to help reclaim this territory from Micah's tyranny. "Lisandra is old as snaps. Your scent is all over the place. Control yourself."
Right. Another weird thing. Everyone keeps commenting on my scent like I'm some rare flower they're afraid might wilt. Back in my real body, people usually just wrinkle their noses and mutter about rogues stinking up the place. I have to crane my neck to look up at everyone. How do omega wolves survive being so small? I feel like a child at a royal banquet. Though watching how everyone treats me, all soft voices and careful movements, I'm starting to understand why Landre's kind get away with it.
The great hall doors open and a voice announces us with way too many fancy titles. Everyone turns to stare and I hear the whispers start immediately. "She's lovely." "Such a perfect Omega." "The future queen." Queen. What future queen is Rafe getting married? Inexplicable fury rises within me at the thought. And then I see him. Alpha King Micah, the enemy, the tyrant, the man I've spent my life fighting against. He stands in the center of the room radiating power. And for a second, I forget how to breathe because those eyes, he has Rafe's eyes, the exact same shade of blue that haunts my dreams. Not because they're beautiful or anything. Obviously, just because I'm always planning how to best him in our next fight. That's all. I definitely don't think about how they crinkle when he laughs or how they flash golden when I manage to land a hit.
"Isa," his majesty's voice pulls me from thoughts I definitely wasn't having about his son. "Welcome. Your daughter is as beautiful as promised." He barely glances at me, which shouldn't bother me. This is the man I've sworn to destroy after all. But something in my new Omega body bristles at being dismissed so easily. We're interrupted by a guard bursting through the doors. "Your Majesty, someone's here to see you." "Not now," Micah waves him off, but the guard persists. "Sire, you'll want to see this." He insists, radiating nervous energy. Micah sighs, but gives a small nod. And then my world stops turning because Kai walks in. My heart leaps at the sight of him. Beautiful, beloved Kai. And I almost step forward before I remember I'm supposed to be Landre. He's carrying something wrapped in bloodstained linen. And the sickly sweet scent of death fills the room.
"Great Alpha King Micah," Kai inclines his head, voice dripping with reverence, and my blood turns to ice. What is he doing? This is Micah, the usurper, the man who stole his birthright, who drove us into exile. Kai's bowing to him like some common beta, and my hands clench into fists so tight my new delicate nails break skin. "If our brothers could see this, if Zara could see her son growling," "Nephew," Micah's eyebrow arches, "what a surprise. Brave of you to show up here. Brave or incredibly stupid?" Kai bows even lower and I have to bite my tongue to keep from snarling. This is wrong. Everything about this is wrong. "Tell me why I shouldn't throw you in the dungeons right now." "Because your majesty," Kai's voice is steady, controlled. "I've come to swear allegiance to the crown."
The room erupts and gasps and mutters. Someone actually laughs. "You expect me to believe this?" Micah's voice is ice. "When your mother has been waging war on us for years." "All so you could take my son's place." "My mother is foolish," Kai says, and my jaw drops. "This conflict serves no one. Our pack is outnumbered, lacking resources." Oh, now you care about the people you've brainwashed into following you. Brainwashed? My teeth grind together. How dare he? "We're stronger than ever. I'm right here in his castle, undetected, ready to to prove my loyalty," Kai continues carefully, laying his burden on the floor. "I've brought you a gift. I've rid you of your greatest enemy." The crowd leans forward, whispering. I frown. What enemy? What is he talking about? Kai pulls back the linen. The world stops. I'm looking at myself. My body, my real body, lies there with empty eyes and a shocked expression. Dark hair matted with blood, multiple stab wounds in the chest. "These are the remains of the demon wolf Arya Storm, your majesty." I want to shake my head at the sight. No, no, that's not possible. Even Micah seems bewildered as he stands. "Are you saying you?" he begins, stupified. "Yes, sire," Kai confirms, his voice is clear, proud. "To end the war, to show our good intentions, I killed Arya myself."
The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. The knife sliding in, his scent, white amber and frost, his hands petting my hair as he killed me. It wasn't a dream. My best friend, my brother, my everything. He murdered me.
Chapter 3.
My world fractures into sharp, painful pieces. That's my body. My actual body lying there dead on the floor. And Kai, my Kai, my best friend, my brother, murdered me. Stabbed me over and over while petting my hair like I was his favorite dog being put down. After everything we've been through, after everything I've done for him, our whole pack lives and dies for him. The true heir, guarding him and Zara with our lives because that's our purpose, our calling. And he just handed my corpse to Micah like some twisted gift basket. I want to scream to grab him and shake him and demand why. My hands shake with the need to hit something. "For crying out loud, daughter," fingers dig into my arm. "This is wonderful news. This girl was an enemy of the pack." That's when I notice everyone's reactions. They're smiling, cheering. Some are actually clapping like this is cause for celebration. The room spins. My body is lying on the floor. It's there because Kai killed me. Everyone's happy about it. They're congratulating him, praising him for murdering me. And somehow I'm stuck, doomed to watch it all unfold. My lungs won't work right.
A deep voice cuts through the buzzing in my ears. "Ah, my son," Micah's voice holds a note of anticipation. "Good thing you're here. You've crossed paths with the demon wolf. Will you identify the body?" The crowd parts like water, and a ripple of whispers follows in their wake. Even in my fractured state, I can't miss how the energy in the room shifts, tenses at his approach. Rafe. He moves through the crowd with that fluid grace I know too well. All contained power and lethal elegance. My eyes find the small scar above his left eyebrow. A gift from the night I nearly had him cornered in that warehouse. He gave me one to match right along my jawline. Well, my real body's jawline, were kind of even that way. Trading scars. That smug bastard's going to be delighted to find me dead just like everyone else here. I realize another traitor celebrating my death. Another betrayal to add to the pile. Except this one makes my chest tight with something that isn't quite rage. My hands shake with the thought of him standing there smirking over my corpse when he wasn't even the one to kill me. How dare he? How dare he let someone else do the job? I would never have let anyone else kill Rafe in my stead. Ever. He was mine to fight, mine to chase, mine to eventually defeat. And if anyone ever tried to take him down, I'd have torn them apart myself. He was supposed to want to end me himself, the way I've always wanted to be the one to end him. But there's no triumph in the set of his shoulders when he kneels beside my body. No satisfaction in his face. If anything, he looks like he's been carved from ice, cold and indifferent. Oh god, he isn't even happy I'm dead. He simply doesn't care. He doesn't care at all. I feel like the world's biggest fool.
His hands, usually so sure in battle, slowly lift the linen. The whole room holds its breath. Even Kai seems to tense. "What's the meaning of this?" Rafe's voice comes out too quiet, toneless. His fingers brush the edge of the shroud where it covers the scar he gave me. "A present for your father, cousin," Kai's tone is sickeningly sweet. "And for you? A present?" Rafe repeats. "Is this a joke?" "A gesture of goodwill," Kai turns to Micah and the words that come out of his mouth make me want to scream. He knows everything. Our hideouts, our allies, our plans. He's offering to help destroy everything we've built. Traitor, but I can't scream. Can barely breathe. This fragile body isn't built for rage. It's crumbling under the weight of it. "And what do you expect in exchange?" Micah asks. "Immunity. I only ask for a place in your pack, Alpha. A chance to prove myself." "This is ridiculous," Rafe snarls. And for once, I agree with him. "How are we to trust you when you so easily betrayed your own?" His eyes fall to my body again and something flickers across his face. "You two were friends, were you not?" His voice drops lower, rougher. "She always spoke very highly of you." The room tilts sideways. Did I speak highly of Kai? I must have. I loved him, trusted him, would have died for him. Did die for him. "Your offer is intriguing," Micah says, his voice seeming to come from far away. "You will be given a chance to prove your loyalty." "Father?" Rafe's voice cuts through the fog in my head, sharp with disbelief. "You can't." "Seriously, I can and I will," Micah's tone hardens. "You'll oversee his integration personally. We don't accept traitors in this kingdom." Rafe's words echo my thoughts exactly, but they're getting harder to focus on. The room is spinning now. "You're not king yet, son." Micah's reply sounds distant, like I'm underwater. Until then, the buzzing in my ears drowns out the rest. My chest feels like it's being crushed in a vice, and black spots dance at the edges of my vision. The last thing I see before everything goes dark is Rafe's hand, still resting on the linen covering my dead face.
Chapter 4.
I wake up in Lisandre's ridiculous bed again, surrounded by hovering maids. It's dark out now, and thankfully the green nightmare that is Isolda is nowhere to be seen. "My lady, you've been unconscious for hours," one maid dabs my forehead with a cool cloth. "Your mother shouldn't have made you go out so soon after your accident." Accident? I want to ask what they mean, but my mind is too busy spinning with everything else. Kai's betrayal, my own dead body, everyone celebrating my death like it's a holiday. The weight of it all crashes down on me suddenly. All those years of fighting, of bleeding, of pushing myself beyond every limit. The countless nights spent training, the battles where I'd nearly died, the missions where I'd killed to keep Kai safe. I'd given him everything. My childhood, my loyalty, my whole damn life. And for what? So he could murder me and dance with our enemies on my grave. Something hollow opens up in my chest.
But then again, I'm not actually dead, am I? For whatever reason, I've been given a second chance. And maybe that means something. I could run. The thought hits me suddenly. Everyone thinks Arya Storm is dead. I could disappear. Start fresh. With this pretty Omega face, I could probably walk into any pack and be welcomed with open arms. But then I think of my brothers in arms, the ones I fought beside. I think of Zara, who found me when I was nothing but a starving rogue pup, who saw something in me, trained me, trusted me. Zara, who alone had the courage to stand against Micah's tyranny. I can't abandon them.
A smile curves my lips as the plan forms. No one knows Landre is actually Arya Storm. I'm right here in the heart of enemy territory, perfectly placed to gather intel, to stop Kai from revealing too much, and most importantly to end the bastard with my own hands. He thinks he can stab me in the back and walk away a hero. Not on my watch. I won't rest until he's ruined, eliminated, brought to justice. And by justice, I mean my blade. All I have to do is play my part, bat my eyelashes, and act precious. Easy enough.
"You," I point at one of the maids. "Bring me a drink. I need to think." They exchange confused looks. "What type of infusion would you like, my lady? Chamomile, vervane?" "What in the world are those?" No, I mean a real drink. "Scotch. Three fingers, no ice." I go back to plotting, excitement building as I imagine revealing myself to Kai in his final moments. "My lady," a maid interrupts my lovely revenge fantasy. "Should we prepare you for your fiancé? Your mother insisted if you woke."
I'd forgotten about Landre's fiancé. This complicates things. Not only will it be harder to fool someone who knows her intimately, but gods. Am I going to have to play dotting fiancé to some random wolf? Gross. So I ask while they wrestle me into yet another fancy dress. "How close am I to my fiancé?" Like, on a scale of 1 to 10, how in love would you say we are? The maids exchange uncomfortable looks. "Well, my lady, as you know, you haven't seen each other since childhood. You can't expect love to be there overnight." "But don't worry," the other adds quickly. "You're so beautiful and charming. Prince Raphael will surely fall in love with you in no time." I preen a little at my reflection because yeah, who wouldn't fall for this face before my brain catches up. "Wait, did you just say Raphael?" I ask. "Yes, my lady." The maid grimaces. "Are you telling me?" My voice rises dangerously. "That I'm engaged to Rafe." The maids exchange a worried look. "He's a bit gruff perhaps, but he's the future king. It's quite an honor." Oh, blast. That means yes, I realize.
They finish lacing me into a pale blue dress while panic starts to set in. What if Rafe figures out who I am? He'd have me killed on the spot. What if I catch my reflection in the mirror? The delicate creature staring back at me couldn't look less like Arya Storm if she tried. All wide eyes and pouty lips, tiny waist and curves I definitely didn't have before. Even my scent is different. No way he'll recognize me. Not a chance. And actually, this could be fun. A giggle bubbles up in my throat as I imagine it. The mighty Rafe, future alpha, unknowingly enthralled by his enemy, disguised as his sweet Omega bride. The idea sends a thrill of excitement down my spine. He'll probably write terrible poetry about my beauty. Oh gods, what if he tries to serenade me? The giggles turn into full-blown laughter as the maids lead me into the hallway.
"My lady," a maid asks, puzzled by my mirth. I ignore her. It'll be hilarious watching Rafe fawn over me. Every glance filled with admiration, every touch filled with longing. I envision his fingertips brushing against my skin, his hands firm on my waist, his body caging me against a wall. Would his lips be gentle, or would his kiss be fueled by, "We're here, my lady," the maid says, showing me into a small reception room. "Are you all right?" she adds with a frown. "You're a little flushed." "Just excited," I reply with a clear of my throat. I check my reflection in a decorative mirror, tucking a stray curl. Not that I care how I look or anything. I just want to make sure I'm playing my part perfectly.
The door opens and suddenly the room feels smaller. That familiar scent of wood smoke and warm oak floods in, but it feels sharper, more dominant. I've never felt Rafe's presence quite like this before. "Lady Landra," he greets. I spin around, beaming. "Hey, you." I wave my hand in a display I'm sure is very cute until his eyebrow ticks up slightly. Perhaps that's not how proper ladies greet their fiancés. Whatever. He'll be too enchanted by my pretty face to care about proper etiquette. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he says, voice like ice. Was he always this tall, this broad? He fills the doorway completely. And for the first time, I have to crane my neck to look up at him. In my old body, we'd been nearly eye to eye. But now, his entire presence seems to loom over me, radiating alpha authority. "Please don't hesitate to let my people know if you need anything," he says curtly. And then he gives me the briefest nod I've ever seen before turning away. Wait, what? Where's the besotted alpha tripping over himself to please his Omega bride? I feel cheated. "Aren't you going to sit?" I blurt out. "Tonight's not a good time," he doesn't even look at me. "You should rest." I realize something's up with his face. He's not even smirking. Rafe always smirks when he sees me. Well, when he sees Arya. And then the door closes behind him with a decisive click that feels louder than any slam.
Chapter 5.
I wake up to an army of maids fussing over me like I'm some sort of invalid. "My lady, you barely touched your dinner last night," one tuts. I waver off, my mind already racing with plans. After yesterday's disaster with Rafe, my priorities are crystal clear. Find out what Kai's plotting and make the bastard pay. Simple, direct, just my style. Actually, it's probably a good thing Rafe seems completely indifferent to his Omega fiancé. He'll be too busy being all broody to get in my way. This is great. Perfect, even.
"You're frowning again, my lady," one of the maids, Phoebe Peggy, comments with a knowing smirk. "What?" "No, I'm not." I straighten up so fast I nearly headbutt her. "Did you get the information I asked for?" My maids exchange glances. "Yes, my lady. Lord Kai has been installed in the west wing of the annex. He's under heavy guard at all times." "Now we're talking." "Go on," I encourage. "Well, Penny lowers her voice conspiratorially. Tommen, one of the guards. He mentioned Kai's being brought to the alpha's private meeting room in half an hour." "Perfect." I swing my legs out of bed. "I'll go, too." The maids stare at me like I've just announced I'm going to sprout wings and fly. "Go where, my lady?" "To the meeting. Obviously."
20 minutes later, after I'm squeezed into a powder pink dress that makes me look like Sponge, I stride toward the council chamber. My maids flutter nervously behind me. But halfway down the corridor, something makes me falter. A scent. White amber and frost. My pulse spikes, my throat closes up, and suddenly I'm back in the forest, leaves crackling beneath me as I bleed out as he pets my hair and watches me die. And then Kai steps through the doorway. The sight of him hits me like a physical blow. He looks exactly the same. Golden hair, perfect features, that familiar smile that used to mean home and safety and brotherhood. But now all I can see is how that same beautiful face watched me die without flinching.
"What a lovely surprise," Lady Landre, I presume. His voice, gods, his voice. How many times had that voice encouraged me, guided me, made me feel like I belonged somewhere. "I must say," he adds, "the rumors of your beauty hardly do you justice." Kai bows respectfully, yet somehow making the gesture feel invasive. Perhaps it's the way his eyes rake over me. I want to snarl, to fight, but my body just freezes. Prey still under a predator's gaze, and I hate myself for it. "No need to look so frightened," Pet Kai murmurs, leaning in close enough that only I can hear. "I know I'm the enemy here, but I'd never harm such a pretty little thing." The word slices through me like another knife to the chest. He used to call Arya that late at night around the campfire, his fingers threading through my hair. Pet. I thought it was meant only for me. But now he's using that same endearment on Landra, and I realize with a sickening clarity that I was never special. Tears burn behind my eyes, and I hate myself for it. I'm supposed to be plotting revenge, not crying over a traitor's stolen endearments. But it hurts. Gods, it hurts to know I was less than nothing to him.
A familiar scent cuts through my panic. Woodsmoke and warm oak, sharp with aggression. And suddenly Rafe is there, a solid presence at my side. "Is there a reason you're ogling my fiancé, cousin?" Something in me unclenches at his arrival, which is ridiculous. I don't need his protection. "My apologies," Kai's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm simply unused to omegas, especially ones as enchanting as your intended." My stomach turns at the way he says enchanting. Like he's imagining how I taste. I'm going to kill him. Just not today. Not when the mere sight of him makes me taste blood in my mouth. I square my shoulders and move to follow Kai and Rafe into the meeting room. I need to be in there. Need to hear whatever lies Kai is spinning.
"What do you think you're doing?" Rafe's voice pulls me up short. "I'm attending the meeting," I reply. Rafe looks at me like I've grown a second head. "Since when?" he asks. "Since I decided I wanted to." "Since you've decided?" Rafe's eyebrows shoot up and around him his guards actually snicker like I'm some kind of joke. Fury burns through my veins. I move to push past him, but then step back, "Rafe commands." And I do. My body moves back like it's the most natural thing in the world. Worse, it feels good to obey him, like I've done something right. His scent shifts slightly, satisfaction rolling off him, and warmth pools in my stomach. "The maids will escort you back to your room," he says. "I've seen enough of my room." I lift my chin. "I want to attend this meeting." "On what grounds?" His voice is winter cold now. "What possible authority do you think you have to attend a confidential meeting?" "I'm your fiancé," I exclaim. "Surely that means I'm allowed to go where you go." I try to move forward again, but a growl rumbles through his chest. "We're not mated yet," he says low and firm. And then he's gone, striding into the meeting room like I'm not even worth a backward glance. Through the closing door, I catch a glimpse of Kai settling in at Micah's side, exactly where he doesn't belong, while I'm stuck out here being treated like a child.
Chapter 6.
I'm still shaking with fury as I stalk through the grounds, my maids scurrying behind me like anxious chickens. Since when am I afraid of Kai? Since when does Rafe's voice make me want to bare my throat? "My lady, perhaps we should return to your chambers." No, I keep walking, needing to move. Sure, being Landra has its perks. The food is incredible. And don't even get me started on that bathtub. But what good is any of that when I have no autonomy, no respect? Back in Zara's pack, I might have grown up eating scraps and fighting other pups for blankets, but at least people looked up to me for what I could do, not just how pretty I looked doing it.
A sound catches my attention. The clash of steel, grunts of exertion, the thud of bodies hitting dirt. My feet carry me toward it before I can think. "What is this place?" I ask innocently, watching men and women spar in a dirt ring. Massive wolves dancing around each other. Others practice with weapons, sweat gleaming on muscled arms as they move through combat forms. "No, my lady," Penny says. "These are the training grounds." I snort, watching a pair of men circle each other. "Training for what? Nap time."
"Is there a problem here?" A tall man approaches, all broad shoulders and military bearing. The maids quickly whisper that this is Hudson, captain of the guard. I smile sweetly, "Just admiring your what would you call this? Vacation camp." His jaw ticks. "My lady, this is how warriors train." "Oh, is that what they're doing?" I watch a wolf fumble a basic defensive stance. "I thought they were learning advanced slacking off." The captain's expression darkens. "With all due respect, what would a delicate Omega know about combat training?" Delicate? Oh, I'll show him delicate. I point to a nearby fighter. "His grip is wrong. He's going to drop his weapon the second someone hits it hard enough. That one's leaving his left side completely exposed. And whoever taught these wolves to circle, they're broadcasting their attack so clearly a blind pup could dodge them."
Silence falls. The captain studies me with new interest as one of the fighters adjusts his grip based on my criticism. His next swing lands with notably more power. "You have a good eye," Hudson admits grudgingly. "In another life, you might have made a useful warrior." Might have? My voice goes sharp. "Oh, I see. Because I wear pretty dresses and smell sweet, I couldn't possibly know how to fight." He glances pointedly at my hands, soft, uncaloused, perfectly manicured. "Being good at something means practicing it, and those hands have never seen a day's work." "Care to test that theory?" The words slip out before I can stop them. The training grounds go dead silent. Hudson stares at me like I've suggested we all strip naked and dance in the moonlight. Then he laughs. Actually laughs. "You want to spar with me?" "Unless you're scared of getting beaten by an omega." His laughter cuts off. Around us, warriors are gathering, drawn by the commotion. The maids look ready to faint. "My lady, I don't think-" "Give me 5 minutes to change."
When I come back in borrowed training clothes, the entire grounds have stopped to watch, which would be flattering if they weren't all clearly expecting entertainment rather than a real fight. Hudson sizes me up, barely bothering to guard himself. "Miss, you can still back-" "I strike." He blocks my first hit easily, but I see the surprise in his eyes when he realizes I actually know what I'm doing. His next block comes faster, harder. I'm used to this. I can do this. Except my brain knows these moves, but this body, this body is weak, soft. The muscles don't respond the way they should. Don't have the memory of countless hours of training. Fine. If I can't overpower him, I'll have to outthink him. I dance back, watching, observing. His weight shifts slightly before he moves right. His shoulder tenses before striking high. Little tells I would have exploited mercilessly in my old body. There an opening. I faint left, then drop and sweep his legs. He stumbles exactly as planned, and I move to pin him. But these arms aren't strong enough to hold him. These legs aren't fast enough to complete the move. He recovers, and suddenly I'm the one in the dirt.
Heat floods my cheeks. Back in Zara's pack, weakness like this would have earned me a beating at best, death at worst. I wait for the mockery, the contempt. Instead, Hudson offers me a hand up, grinning. "That was impressive." Around us, the other warriors are actually cheering. "Impeccable technique," Hudson continues. "Just needs some conditioning to pull it off. Would you like to train with us?" I stare at him. But I lost. To my surprise, the captain shrugs. "But you fought smart. Used your head. That shows potential." Potential. Where I'm from, potential doesn't matter. Either you succeed and you're in, or you fail and you're out. Why is this fool blabbering about potential? I can't believe we ever lost to these people.
"We're going to wrap up here and go for drinks," Hudson announces, grinning. "You should join us, little lady. I want to hear where you learned that move." Before I can respond, two of the warriors are already lifting me onto their shoulders like some kind of conquering hero. The whole group erupting in cheers and whoops. "To the tavern," someone shouts. "First rounds on the captain." "He got beaten by an Omega." "I did not get beaten," Hudson protests, but he's laughing. "Almost beaten," another warrior corrects. I grab onto their shoulders, dizzy from more than just the height. This can't be real. Back in Zara's pack, showing weakness meant blood, meant pain. I let myself being carried off, curious. I suppose I might as well try to learn more about how the enemy operates while I can.
Chapter 7.
The tavern lights are making pretty patterns in the air. It makes me want to dance and sing and maybe howl a little. "Another," I demand, slamming my empty glass down. Everyone around the bar cheers at that. Well, apart from Penny, who's tugging at my sleeve going, "My lady, perhaps that sixth drink was enough." I spin around to face her, only stumbling a little bit. Sweet, beautiful Penny. I used to outdrink alphas all the time. A memory floats through my sparkly happiness. Nights around campfires, challenging Kai to drinking contests. He'd always get so touchy when he lost. All wandering hands helping me to my tent. Wait, that memory feels different now. Icky. "More ale," I announced to no one and everyone. Ale makes everything better and nothing hurts. Everyone's laughing and it feels like bells in my chest because they're laughing with me.
"You're something else, little lady," someone says. "Who are you anyway?" "You want to know who I am?" I stage whisper, swaying closer. "I am the terror of the night, the shadow in the places with shadows, the most dangerous." I collapse into giggles, and suddenly I'm sprawled across Hudson's lap, which is nice because his face is nice and he smells good. Not as good as Rafe, but nobody smells as good as Rafe because he's stupid and perfect and stupid. He plucks my fresh drink from my hand. "Rude," I think you've had more than enough," he says. "You're no fun," I poke his chest. "But you have very nice muscles." He coughs, shifting me slightly. "Perhaps we should get you some water."
"Everyone's so nice here," I observe, wiggling in his lap. "They keep telling me how pretty I am, which is true, I guess. Everyone thinks so." A thought strikes me and I pout. "Well, except Rafe. He doesn't think I'm pretty at all." Hudson tenses. "Prince Raphael." Stupid Rafe. I giggle with his stupid perfect face and his stupid. I look up at Hudson through my lashes. "Do you think I'm pretty?" He swallows hard. "I uh I'm not blind." I beam at him. "At least someone appreciates me. Maybe I should have been your fiancé instead." I snuggle closer, enjoying how the captain's breath catches. "You'd appreciate me properly, wouldn't you?" "Feels good being appreciated, my lady," he manages, voice strained. "You're very drunk." "Am not." The room does a pretty swirl. "I've barely had anything. This body is just is just-" What was I saying? Oh, right. "Watch this." I try to stand up to prove how completely fine I am. The floor very rudely tries to hit me in the face. I collide with something solid and warm. Something that smells absolutely divine. Woodsmoke and warm oak and everything good in the world. Rafe. I beam up at him, delighted. "You have beautiful eyes. Did you know that?" His jaw is doing that ticking thing it does when he's angry, but that's okay because he's still holding me close and everything is perfect now that he's here.
Captain Rafe's voice could freeze the summer sun. "Care to explain why my fiancé can barely stand?" Hudson practically coughs out his drink. "Your highness, I had no idea she was your-" "He thinks I'm pretty," I interrupt helpfully. "So, he bought me a tiny bitsy little drink or two or six." Rafe's chest rumbles low and deep. A growl I feel more than hear as he addresses the captain. "If I ever find my fiancé in a situation like this again, it won't happen again, your highness." "See that it doesn't." And then we're moving. Rafe lifting me in his arms like I weigh nothing. His scent engulfs me. Wild. Something rich and dark beneath it. Perfect. Heat unfurls under my skin. Slow and heady, making me feel soft, pliable in his arms. Finally, I sigh, nuzzling into the crook of his neck where his scent is thickest. "Been waiting forever for you." His grip tightens, "Lady Landra," he sighs, yet my wolf pines under the unspoken command in his voice. It sends a pulse of liquid heat through me. "Sh," I laugh, kissing a path up to his ear. "I'm on a very important mission to seduce my alpha." "You really don't have to do that," he grits out. "But I want to." My wolf instincts are screaming at me to submit. Show him how good I could be for him. It should make me angry. Should make me want to resist this body's urges. But instead, a delicious shudder runs through me at the way he holds me, and I press closer. I really can't help myself.
When he finally sets me down, the room tilts and spins in the most delicious way. "Why didn't you ever claim me before?" I ask as he helps me down on my bed. Once laid down, my instincts guiding me, I bear my throat. It's a surrender, an offering, a plea. I'm more than ready for him to claim me. And while his eyes darken, he doesn't move. "We could have been doing this for ages," I whisper, reaching for his hand. "Or do you only like me when I'm an omega?" "My lady, you need to sleep." His voice is firm, distant, but I can smell he isn't indifferent. "I have a much better idea." I giggle, yanking him down. And then I press my mouth to his, moaning at the sheer perfection of the contact. This is everything. When he growls into my mouth, my whole body melts. For just one heartbeat, one fleeting moment, he gives in. His hand cradles my face, his kiss turning firm, commanding, teasing the edges of the submission my body aches to give. But then he pulls back and something inside me whimpers at the loss. This isn't how this is supposed to go. When I used to get drunk with Kai, he'd always stay, helping me undress, murmuring about how good a pet I'd be. Something ugly stirs at the memory, but I push it away. This is different. This is Rafe.
"Aren't you going to stay?" I whine. "Why do you always have to leave?" My voice drops to something fragile, needy, as I realize out loud. "I'm only happy when you're here, Rafe. I'm so-" My throat feels tight. "I feel so alone without you." His hands flex at his sides like he's fighting himself. "You're not making sense," he murmurs, voice tight. "You tried to take your own life only a few days ago to escape this engagement, Landra." And now, why is he calling me Landra? I wonder, mind like cotton. That's not my name. I should tell him so. "That said," he murmurs, squeezing my hand briefly. "I understand I haven't been very welcoming." I really look at him, at the shadows under his eyes, the weariness in his face, the sadness that seems to cling to him like a second skin. Something in my chest aches at the sight. "It's okay," I mumble, patting his leg clumsily. When he doesn't pull away, I snuggle closer, pressing my face against his thigh. "Don't be sad, okay? I'm here." Even knowing he's my enemy and I shouldn't care. I can't bear to see him hurting like this. His hand is in my hair. It feels soft and my eyes are so heavy and he's so warm.
Chapter 8.
The morning hits me like a silver-tipped spear. How much did I even drink last night? The last thing I remember is being at the tavern. "Rise and shine, my lady." Penny throws open the curtains, making me groan. "Is the sun absolutely necessary?" "Oh, yes." "Now, drink this." Penny thrusts a steaming cup under my nose. The smell alone makes my stomach roll. As I'm about to tell her I'd
Rather die than drink this. My bedroom bursts open, and his oldest sweeps in like an emerald hurricane. "What were you thinking, daughter?" she screeches. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
She paces, her expensive dress rustling with each sharp turn. "If the alpha calls off this engagement, God, all those years of investment, the tutors, the finishing school, the healers," she whirls on me. "We didn't spend a fortune crafting you into the perfect omega just for you to throw it all away."
Crafting me like I'm a product to be sold. "Is this about that boy again?" she demands. "Are you still pining over Thomas after you nearly destroyed everything for that fool?"
"Who's Thomas?" I ask, genuinely confused.
Her hand strikes my cheek. "You need to accept that Thomas is mated now," she continues, voice dripping venom. "Your shame is a burden on this entire family. Bad enough you tried to take your own life over that worthless kid. But now this behavior."
My head spins. And not just from the hangover. Landre tried to kill herself because some guy used her and left. Get her ready. His older snaps at the maids. Lord Raphael wants to see her. Though gods know why he's still bothering with such a disappointment. She sweeps out, leaving behind the acrid scent of her fury.
"More hangover cure?" Penny offers quietly.
Yeah. I swallow hard. I think I'm going to need it.
After a two-hour bath, I'm taken to meet with Rafe outside. The terrace is beautiful in the morning light, and the massive spread of food on the table makes my stomach growl traitorously. Rafe rises when he sees me approach, a polite expression on his face.
"You rang." I draw, enjoying how his expression falters for just a moment. He recovers quickly. "Lady Landre, how are you feeling this morning?"
Ah, so he's heard about last night. Well, if he thinks he's going to lecture me. "Look," I say, cutting straight to it. "Yes, I had a few too many, but sometimes a girl just needs to let her hair down and have some fun. You feel me?"
He blinks at me.
"Well, if that's all," I sigh, turning to leave, but his voice stops me. "Please sit."
"Sit?" I ask. "I thought we could have breakfast together." He gestures at the laden table, and my stomach betrays me with another growl. Still, Arya Storm will not be bought so easily. "Why?" I cross my arms, ignoring both my hunger and how the morning light makes his eyes look particularly blue.
"Well," Rafe smiles. "Seeing as we are to be mated, I don't think it ridiculous that we should spend some time together."
"Oh, you don't think it's ridiculous, do you?" I mock. "That's funny, since you've done nothing but look down on me ever since I arrived."
"I haven't." He stops himself, takes a breath. "I apologize for my untoward behavior these past few days."
Lady Landre, he seems sincere, but why now? Why the sudden change? I decide to test him. "I think you can do better than that," I challenge, extending my hand imperiously.
He frowns, and then there it is, that familiar smirk I know so well, the one that used to make my blood sing in battle. He approaches slowly, never breaking eye contact as he sinks to one knee. His hand is warm when it takes mine. His breath ghosts across my pulse point. Gods. I have to bite back a moan.
And then, as Rafe guides me to my seat, I spot the waffles. If there's one perk to being dead and reborn as Landre, it's definitely the food. I dive in without hesitation, piling my plate high with everything in reach.
"Have they been starving you since you arrived?" Rafe asks, genuinely concerned.
"Nah," I say around a mouthful of pure heaven. "Just love breakfast." I reach for more muffins.
"Well, glad to see you're feeling better," Rafe comments, amused.
"Better than what?" I ask, distracted.
"Then last night."
I pause mid-bite. "Last night?"
"You don't remember?" Now he's definitely amused.
"Remember what?" I narrow my eyes at him, but he just shakes his head.
"Where did you learn to fight?" he asks. "I've heard your form yesterday was quite impressive."
I freeze mid-chew. How would Landre know how to fight? Yesterday, I was so caught up in showing off, I didn't think about how suspicious it would look. Gods, I'm such an idiot. I might as well have announced to everyone that something wasn't right with Lady Landra. Quick, an excuse.
"My ex taught me," I blurted out triumphantly. Then I catch Rafe's curious look and realize, wait, am I supposed to have exes? I mean, when I say ex, barely an ex, nothing serious. We didn't— I mean, nothing past second base.
Rafe's stare intensifies. "First base." I let out a nervous laugh. "We held hands. That's it."
"Landre." He interrupts. "I really don't care about your past relationships." I search his face and realize he genuinely doesn't. Which, for some reason, really pisses me off.
"Oh, I could tell," I say primly. "Since you've been ignoring me the entire time I've been here."
He grimaces. "That's not entirely true."
"You're right," I pout. "There was that time you sent me to my room like some petulant child."
"You are quite petulant, in my defense," he observes.
"Not the point," I snap, stunning Rafe silent for a short second.
"Did you actually want to join that meeting yesterday?" he asks, sounding surprised.
"No," I snap. "I was just pretending I did to impress you."
He stares at me blankly. "Oh my god, did you actually think I just wanted to be there to impress you?" I scoff. "Unbelievable. Everything is not about you."
His laugh catches us both off guard. Rich and genuine, transforming his whole face. For a moment, I forget I'm supposed to be angry with him. Then I remember I'm supposed to be angry with everyone and grab another waffle out of spite.
"Forgive me," Rafe says, his voice unexpectedly sincere. "I understand how it must have felt not being taken seriously." I can only nod, thrown by his earnestness.
"I want you to know," he continues, catching my gaze, "that I'm looking for an equal partner in my mate. If you wish to attend the meetings, you should be there."
Oh my god. I try not to squeal. This is it. My mind already races with ways to watch Kai to figure out what he's planning. "When's the next one?" I ask. The words tumble out before I can stop them.
Rafe's expression turns apologetic. "You'll only be able to join once we're mated and I become alpha. My father, he doesn't see things quite the same way."
I deflate. "That makes sense, I guess." Zara used to tell us exactly what Micah thought of omegas, of women in positions of power. It was one of her main arguments for rebellion. Well, that and the fact that Micah murdered her mate, Kai's father. "He sees us as decorative pieces," she'd say, voice bitter with old wounds. "Thinks we're only good for breeding and looking pretty." But Rafe, he's different from what Zara always claimed. He's certainly different from Kai. My stomach churns at the thought of my former best friend. I still have no way to get to him, to stop whatever he's planning. At least not until Rafe and I are mated. The realization hits like a bucket of ice water. To get my revenge, to protect the alliance from whatever Kai's plotting, I'm going to have to actually mate with Rafe.
Chapter Nine.
That evening, I stare at the ceiling, watching shadows creep across the elaborate molding. The mating ceremony is in two weeks. Two weeks to stop Kai or having to be bound forever to my greatest enemy. The thought should make me want to run. Instead, my stomach does this weird flip thing every time I think about it, about Rafe. I grab a pillow and scream into it.
"My lady." Penny bursts through the door. Another maid right behind her. "Are you all right?"
"Fine." I wave them off, accidentally knocking into the second maid. "Sorry, I just—" The words die in my throat. That scent under the flowery perfume all the maids wear. There's something familiar, something wild and sharp that doesn't belong in these polished halls. The maid keeps her eyes down, perfectly submissive, but I'd know that face anywhere. Willa, one of our best spies, now apparently playing servant in the alpha's house. My heart pounds as I watch her exit my room discreetly. If she's here, that means Zara sent her, which means whatever Kai's planning is big enough to risk sending in another operative.
"Could you fetch me some tea?" I ask Penny, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I have a bit of a headache."
The moment Penny leaves, I turn to the other maid. "Your uniform?"
"My lady?"
"Give me your uniform now." She hesitates, probably wondering if this is some sort of trap, but eventually hands over her dress and apron.
"Perfect. Penny," I call as she returns with the tea. "I need you to cover for me. If anyone asks, I'm resting in my room with a headache. Can you do that?"
Her eyes go wide. "But my lady, please—"
I catch her hands and mine. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
"Let me help," she pleads. "Whatever you need."
"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. "Stay here. That's an order." The hurt in her eyes makes my chest tight, but better hurt than dead if Willa discovers her. I've seen what happens to people who get in Willa's way.
The servant's passages are a maze, but Willa's scent is easy to track. Even in this weak body, my nose works fine. She's heading toward the annex, toward Kai. My hands shake as I follow. What could she be carrying to him? Messages from Zara, new orders, or maybe poison, a blade, something to help him escape.
Guards patrol the annex regularly. I've been watching their rotations for days, marking the gaps in their coverage. There's a three-minute window between shifts where the east side is clear. Just enough time to scale the wall if you're careful. But I'm not in my old body anymore. These arms can barely lift a tea tray, let alone support my weight. Still, I have to try.
The rose trellis creaks under my fingers as I climb. One foot after another, muscles trembling with effort. Don't look down. Don't think about falling. Just keep moving. Finally, I reach the balcony outside Kai's room. Voices drift through the partially open doors. Willa's smooth tones and Kai's familiar laugh. The sound makes my stomach turn.
The branch I catch holds barely. Heart pounding, I press myself against the wall, praying they didn't hear. "The alliance is in chaos. Willa's voice drifts down. Your mother's supporters are shaken by Arya's death, as they should be."
Kai's tone makes my blood freeze. There's something wrong with it. Something cold and empty that I've never heard before. This isn't the voice that used to comfort me after battles that promised we'd always protect each other.
"Your mother is pleased, though." The words hit like a physical blow. Pleased. Zara is pleased. Of course she is. Kai laughs, and the sound raises the hair on my neck. "It was on her orders that I sacrificed Arya, after all."
My fingers go numb on the branch. No, no, that can't be right. Zara wouldn't. She found me, raised me, made me strong.
"So, it was you." Willa sounds impressed. "I thought as much. Who else could have taken down the demon wolf?"
Pride colors his voice. Actual pride. Like he's bragging about murdering me. Like he's proud of stabbing me in the back. Something hot and wet slides down my cheek. Tears. No, I don't cry. I haven't cried since I was a pup. But Landre's body betrays me, overwhelmed by the weight of this betrayal.
"She didn't even fight me, really," Kai continues, and rage burns through my grief. "It wasn't much of a fight at all."
"Well, she probably hadn't been expecting it," Willa's voice turns thoughtful, "given that you two were close."
Without thinking, I pull myself up to the window ledge, needing to see his face, needing to understand how the wolf I trusted with my life could talk about my death like it was nothing.
"It's not about expectations." Something dark gleams in Kai's eyes. Something hungry and possessive that I've never seen before. Or maybe I just never wanted to see it. "Arya is loyal to me. She accepted her fate, her sacrifice, because I asked her to."
The branch creaks under my white-knuckled grip. "Accepted? I didn't accept anything. He just kept stabbing again and again while I begged him to explain why."
"She lived for me." His voice drops lower, almost reverent. "Everything she was, everything she did, it was all for me. She loved me, belonged to me."
Horror crawls up my spine. This isn't the Kai I knew. This is— This is something else. Something twisted and wrong, wearing my best friend's face. "She's mine." His eyes lift suddenly, locking with mine through the window. A smile spreads across his face, slow and terrible. "Mine to kill and mine to keep."
I can't move. Can't breathe.
"There's something else," Willa cuts in. "Your mother is concerned about your cousin's upcoming marriage to Landre Vtoria."
Kai doesn't look away from me. "Soon that won't matter." His smile widens. "I'll be alpha of this pack, and Landre will be my mate." His voice drops to a whisper. "Just you wait."
The branch snaps.
Chapter Ten.
By some miracle, I make it to the ground without breaking anything. I don't know how long I stay there, crouched in the bushes beneath Kai's window. Time stretches like taffy, sticky and cold. The moon rises, sets. Still, I can't move. "Mine to kill and mine to keep." His words echo in my head until they unravel everything I thought I knew about my life, about who I am.
A memory surfaces. Zara finding me, a half-starved pup on the edges of her territory. Her hands gentle as she lifted me, voice soft as she promised I'd never be alone again. "You're special," she'd said. "I can see your strength, your potential." But she hadn't seen me at all. She'd just seen a weapon she could shape, a toy soldier to position in her games.
Another memory. My first kill. Twelve years old. Throat raw from screaming as Zara held me down. Forced me to watch the light fade from the guard's eyes. "This is what loyalty means," she'd whispered. "This is love." But it wasn't love. It was never love.
The sky lightens, and still the memories come. Each one twisted now with new understanding. Kai always at my side, always touching—his hands in my hair, on my skin, proprietary, possessive, my perfect pet. He'd purr when I'd complete a mission. "So good for me." I'd pined under that praise, desperate for any scrap of approval.
The memory I've been fighting crashes through my defenses. Kai's quarters after a raid. He'd been pushing drinks into my hands all night, smiling. That smile I thought meant safety. "You trust me, don't you, pet?" My head had been spinning, vision blurry, his hand sliding under my clothes. "No," I'd mumbled. "Kai, stop." "Shh. You want to prove your loyalty, don't you?"
I barely make it to my hands and knees before I'm retching into the bushes. How many nights like that had there been? How many times had he— My stomach heaves again, but there's nothing left to bring up. Just bile and shame and the sickening realization that my whole life has been a lie. I wasn't a warrior. I was a puppet, a toy. Something for Kai to play with and break when he got bored.
"Lady Landra." A gasp. "Someone get Lord Raphael." Hands touch me and I flinch away. Everything feels far away, like I'm watching through muddy water. They move me inside. The maids bathe me, murmuring soft concerns I can't process. "Poor thing. Just like before, Thomas all over again." But it's not like before. It's not like anything because I'm not even me anymore.
"Lady Landra." A deep voice cuts through the fog. "Rafe, the healer's here. She's in shock," the healer says gently. "Has she experienced trauma before, my lady?"
Rafe's presence fills the room. "Did someone hurt you?" The question breaks something in me. Did someone hurt me? Everyone hurt me. My whole life was built on hurt disguised as love. Arms wrap around me and that scent, woodsmoke and warm oak, surrounds me. My wolf, so lost and confused, suddenly settles under his touch. "You're safe now," he murmurs, and the gentle authority in his voice makes my whole body relax. His hand strokes my hair, and it's different from any touch I've known before. No ownership, no demand, just comfort freely given, wrapped in alpha strength that chases away the shadows.
I cry until there's nothing left, until my throat is raw and my eyes burn. I cry for the pup I was so desperate to belong that I let them shape me into a weapon. I cry for the warrior I became, thinking strength meant letting yourself be used. I cry for Landre, who felt so broken she tried to escape the only way she knew how. And through it all, Rafe's alpha presence wraps around me like a blanket, keeping the nightmares at bay. When sleep finally claims me, it's to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my ear, his scent surrounding me like a promise.
Chapter Eleven.
A week has passed since my world shattered, and I still feel hollow, empty, like someone scooped out everything I thought I knew about myself and left behind this shell. The only thing that feels real anymore is Rafe's daily visits, just sitting with me, sometimes talking, sometimes not. His presence anchors me when everything else feels like it might float away. But today, he hasn't come. I pace my room as night falls. The thought of something being wrong makes my chest tight. Finally, I can't take it anymore. I slip out into the night, following his scent through moonlit corridors and across dew-dampened grass. I find him at the edge of the estate where ancient oaks give way to open meadow. A pyre burns against the star-strewn sky, flames dancing gold and crimson. The traditional sending off for warrior wolves. Rafe stands alone before the flames. No pack members in attendance. No ceremonial drums. Just silence broken by the crackle of burning wood. In the distance, I notice pinpricks of light scattered across the hills, torches, maybe, or funeral lanterns. There are so many of them, but they stay far away, as if held back by some invisible line.
"I wasn't expecting you here," he says. His shoulders are rigid with tension, face cast in shadows that make him look older. I move to stand beside him, close enough to feel the heat from the fire. We watch the flames in silence for a long moment before I gather the courage to ask, "Who? Who died?"
"A great warrior," Rafe replies.
"From our pack?" No. I look around again, confused.
Rafe, sensing it, takes a breath. "It was Arya Storm," he says. The name in my name hits like a physical blow.
"What?" I whisper as my knee buckles. "But wasn't she your enemy?"
He turns to me then, something fierce in his eyes. "Does that mean she doesn't deserve to rest with dignity?" The defensive note in his voice makes me realize he must have fought for this. Argued with his father, his pack, just to give my body proper rights.
"Did you know her well?" I ask, my throat tight.
A sad smile tugs at his lips. "Yes and no." He looks back to the flames. "I'm just tired of this war, of all the senseless death. Arya lived her whole life fighting battles that weren't even hers. She deserves peace now."
Something both warm and painful expands in my chest. How can he know that I'd been caught up in something bigger than myself when even I couldn't?
"I apologize if this offends you, Lady Landra," Rafe comments, misinterpreting my silence. He doesn't sound apologetic, though, just... pensive.
"I suppose that explains why no one else came," I manage.
He nods. "I tried to have her body returned to her people, but my father wouldn't allow it."
"That's very kind of you," I whisper.
Rafe shakes his head. "No, it's only right. Though, what would really be right is letting her be buried by those who loved her."
"I doubt she had many of those," the words slip out before I can stop them, bitter with fresh betrayal.
Rafe turns to me then, something fierce in his expression. Without a word, he points to the hills beyond the estate. To all those tiny lights scattered across the darkness.
"What?" My voice catches. "What are those?"
"Her people," Rafe says. "Everyone who could come." My breath hitches, but I don't think he notices. "They've been gathering since sunset," he explains, voice softening.
I stare at the lights, at my people, and something that's been dead inside me flickers back to life. "They came. They actually came. She was that important to them?" I ask, hardly daring to believe it, more than she probably knew.
His smile is sad, but genuine. "She gave them hope."
"Because she was such a strong fighter?" I ask, voice quavering.
"No." The gentleness in his voice makes my chest ache. "Because she had a light in her that everyone could see. She fought for others, for what she believed was right. That kind of spirit." He trails off, looking into the flames.
I have to bite my lip to keep from sobbing. All this time, I thought I'd been nothing but a weapon. But those lights, those are real people who believed in me, who I'd actually helped. Tears burn behind my eyes.
Rafe notices and misinterprets again. "Did you think because there are enemies, they're devoid of any feelings?" he asks. "That's not how it works."
"No," I realize that's not how it works at all. Just like Rafe and I, we'd been enemies on paper, but in reality, I watch his profile in the firelight, remembering all our battles. How he'd always fought fair, always tried to minimize casualties. How many times had I worried about him, knowing his compassion could get him killed.
"You remind me of her sometimes," he says, shaking his head like he can't quite believe what he is saying. "The way you say things, or the way you move."
I freeze, mind swirling in panic. God, what if he figures me out? Surely he'd send me away.
"She was betrayed," Rafe then explains quietly, "by someone she loved. Someone who should have protected her." His hands clench. "I should have seen what Kai was planning. Stopped him."
"Wait, what?" How is any of Kai's— Rafe's fault? "What are you talking about?" I exclaim.
"It wasn't your responsibility." I reach for his hand without thinking, desperate to comfort him, but he shifts away. "I'd like to be alone now, if you don't mind." His shoulders have slumped, the weight of leadership and loss bowing his spine. The sight makes my chest ache, and I nod, throat tight with all the things I can't say. He's grieving for me, and I can't even tell him I'm right here.
As I walk away, I glance back one last time. I realize this war isn't just hurting my people. It's hurting his, too. Hurting him. Whatever Micah's sins might be, I know one thing for certain now. Rafe will be different. He'll be the kind of alpha both sides deserve. And I'm going to make sure he gets the chance. Not for revenge anymore, but for all those lights in the distance. For every person caught in this war. For Rafe himself, who gave an enemy warrior more honor in death than her own leaders had in life. I'm going to protect him. I'm going to stop Kai and Zara. For the first time since my world fell apart, I have a purpose again. A real one, chosen by me and no one else.
Chapter Twelve.
I haven't seen Rafe since the funeral. Maybe that's for the best. I need to focus on stopping Kai. The problem is, I have no power here. The only path to any real influence would be mating with Rafe, making him Alpha and me his Luna. I stare at my reflection as the maids prepare me for tonight's engagement ball. They've transformed Landre's face into something ethereal. All smoky eyes and rose petal lips. This is what a future Luna should look like. What Landra was raised to be. But I'm not her. I'd be a disappointment, a fraud. Could I tell Rafe the truth? Sure. He respected Arya enough to honor her death. But finding out I'm essentially possessing his fiancée's body, that's different. That's wrong.
Enough moping. His oldest sweeps in. "You haven't seen your fiancée in days. We can't have him getting cold feet." She pours something into a glass of water.
"Drink this."
"What is it?"
"Something to help you win over your alpha."
"Not drinking anything unless you tell me exactly what it is."
Her lips purse. "It's a heat trigger, if you must know."
I know about heats. The overwhelming urge to mate that affects paired wolves. I've never experienced one, but I've heard stories. The burning need, the way alphas react, almost impossible to resist. "Absolutely not." I stand up. "I'm not tricking Rafe into—"
And then it hits me. Kai will be at the ball tonight. If I could get him alone while in heat, he'd probably throw himself at me. Enough of an offense for even Micah to act. It's not a great plan. Actually, it's terrible. But I'm running out of options. I take the glass.
"That's my girl," Isolda beams. "You'll start feeling the effects in about an hour."
"What effects exactly?"
She waves dismissively. "Nothing you can't handle." I thought heats just affected alphas. Made them want the omega. I didn't think I'd actually feel anything, but surely it can't be that bad, right?
That said, Elder continues. "Should something go wrong," she removes an ornate silver necklace from her neck. Delicate filigree wrapped around what looks like a small silver locket. "You'll need this."
"What is it?"
Her lips thin with disapproval. "Have you forgotten everything I taught you about heats? The dangers?" I bite back the urge to point out that she's never taught me anything. Instead, I examine the necklace as she fastens it around my throat.
"This locket contains a sedative so potent it mimics death," she explains, voice dropping lower. "If for any reason your alpha cannot or will not come to your aid during the heat, you take this. It will spare you the suffering." And her eyes harden. "Ensure no one takes advantage while you're vulnerable."
"You mean?" The implications turn my stomach.
"Omegas cannot rely on strength," she continues adjusting the necklace. "We must be creative in our methods. Poisons, sedatives, remedies. These are our weapons." She steps back, studying me. "You must master the art of turning weakness into power, Landra, or you won't survive as Luna."
A whole world I never knew existed unfolds before me. All those years learning to fight with fists and fangs, and I never once considered there might be other ways to wage war. I touch the vial at my throat, mind already racing with possibilities. Maybe there's more to being an Omega than I thought.
"Penny," I whisper minutes later as we head toward the ballroom. "I need your help."
She leans in close. "I'm going to get Kai alone tonight," I explain. "After a while, I need you to find Rafe and bring him to catch us. Can you do that?"
Her eyes go wide. "My lady, that sounds dangerous."
"I'll be fine." I squeeze her hand. "Just make sure you bring Rafe or a witness." She nods reluctantly, and I try to ignore the worry in her eyes. This has to work. I'm out of other options. But as we approach the ballroom, I can't shake the feeling that I'm about to make a terrible mistake.
Rafe waits at the top of the grand staircase, and something in my chest flutters when his eyes find mine. "You look beautiful," he says softly. I catch myself wishing he'd found Arya beautiful, too. The real me with my scars and calluses. He offers his arm, and we descend into the ballroom as music swells from a string quartet and the air thickens with expensive perfumes and excited whispers. Everyone stares as we pass. Of course they do. We're the future Alpha and Luna, but their gazes feel like hooks in my skin. Do they see how wrong I am for this? How badly I'm playing this part?
When we reach the bottom, Rafe releases my arm, and I have to fight the urge to grab his hand back to pull him away from all these watching eyes.
"What's wrong?" He's back at my side, brow furrowed. "You smell tense."
"I'm fine." I force a smile, reminding myself to focus. Find Kai. That's what matters. Not how safe Rafe's presence makes me feel. Not how his scent seems to settle something restless under my skin. His hand finds the small of my back. "Dance with me?" he asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice. He leads me onto the dance floor. The warmth of his touch seems to spread through my whole body. "Has it always been this warm in here?" The world narrows to just us, his scent making me slightly dizzy. Or maybe that's from the way he's looking at me. Blue eyes dark with promise. His thumb traces circles on my lower back, leaving trails of fire on my skin.
"Raphael." Micah's voice cuts through the haze in my mind. A word. Rafe's jaw tightens before he forces himself to step back. "Of course, Alpha." I watch him go, swaying slightly on my feet. His scent lingers in my nose, making it hard to think about anything else.
People approach to offer congratulations, but their words blur together. All I can focus on is Rafe across the room. The way his shoulders flex under his jacket. How his hands looked wrapped around that glass of wine. What would those hands feel like on my— No, focus. I need to find Kai. Oh, but Rafe is right there, and I can still smell him. What if he came back right now, pulled me into his arms, pressed me against a wall, claimed my mouth? A small moan escapes my lips, and several heads turn my way. Oh gods. Oh no, my skin feels too tight, too sensitive. Every brush of fabric sends sparks through my nerves. And Rafe, just looking at him makes me want to bare my throat. To beg him to— I force myself to look away. What if it gets worse? What if I completely lose control? What if Rafe smells it on me and decides to act on it? Would he pick me up right here, carry me to his bed? And another whimper escapes, and I clamp my hand over my mouth. If I'm going to do— find Kai, it has to be now, before I completely lose my mind to whatever this is.
"Lady Landra." His voice hits me like ice water, white amber, and frost. I turn to find my murderer watching me, his golden hair gleaming in the chandelier light. "Would you honor me with a dance?" he asks. His eyes trail over me slowly, lingering on the curve of my neck, the swell of my breasts above the low neckline. I force myself not to flinch. "This is my chance."
"I'm not sure that would be appropriate," I demure, playing the shy Omega. "My fiancée is occupied."
Kai's smile is all predator as his gaze drops to my lips. "Surely one dance wouldn't hurt." He extends his hand, and I can see the way his nostrils flare, catching my heat-sweet scent. This is exactly what I wanted—to lure him in, to trap him. So why does every instinct scream at me to run? Clenching my jaw, I place my hand in his.
Don't worry, part two is already available. Just click the link in the description. I hope you enjoyed this first part. Some of you might have noticed that this is a story I'd already published some time ago, but I decided to share it again, this time with a full visual production. I'll have a brand new story for you next week. And for those interested, there's also a new long exclusive story waiting for you on my Patreon. Love, Lily.