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Chapter 5

The envelope arrived on a Tuesday morning, delivered by a Harper Pack courier who didn't speak a word. Just handed me the unmarked package and disappeared back into the forest.

I waited until I was alone in my bedroom before opening it. My fingers trembled slightly as I broke the seal—not from fear, but anticipation.

The lab results were clinical. Cold. Beautiful.

*Subject: Ramon Jordan. Paternal Markers: Zero Alpha genotype. Conclusion: Beta-class werewolf, Bloodmoon Pack lineage (97.3% probability).*

I read it three times, letting each word sink in like a blessing from the Moon Goddess herself.

Proof. Undeniable, scientific proof that Allie's precious son was a bastard. That her entire claim to power was built on lies.

*Perfect,* Sasha purred.

I slipped the documents into a leather folder and made my way to Grandma Stevens' study. She was reading by the window, afternoon light catching the silver in her hair.

"Grandma," I said softly. "I need to use your safe."

She looked up, those sharp gray eyes studying my face. Then she nodded and stood, moving to the portrait of her late mate that hung above the fireplace. She pressed something behind the frame, and the painting swung outward, revealing a steel door.

The combination lock clicked under her gnarled fingers. The safe opened.

"Whatever you're planning," she said quietly, "make sure it's worth the cost."

I placed the folder inside, next to ancient pack documents and sealed wills. "It is."

She closed the safe. The portrait swung back into place, hiding our secrets behind oil paint and canvas.

"He's getting worse," Grandma Stevens said. Not a question.

I thought of Isaac this morning at breakfast, his hand shaking as he reached for his protein shake. The one laced with Silver-Dust. His aura had flickered twice during the meal, weak and unstable.

"Yes," I said. "He is."

She touched my cheek, her palm warm and papery. "The Moon Goddess sees all, child. Remember that."

I left her study feeling the weight of those documents like a weapon pressed against my heart.

That evening, Allie's voice drifted through Isaac's office door. I paused in the hallway, my enhanced hearing picking up every word.

"She's plotting something, Isaac. I can feel it." Allie's tone was urgent, desperate. "The way she looks at you. The way she's been talking to the Elders."

"Vera wouldn't—" Isaac's voice was weaker than I'd ever heard it. The Silver-Dust was eating away at his strength, day by day.

"Wouldn't she?" Allie's footsteps paced across the floor. "Her father is Alpha of the Harper Pack. One of the most powerful packs in the region. What if she's planning a coup? What if she wants to install Forest as Alpha and rule through him?"

Silence. I could almost hear Isaac's paranoia growing, fed by Allie's poison.

"We need to get away from here," Allie continued. "Just for a few days. Clear your head. I need to pick up Ramon from the youth training camp at the border anyway. We could make it a trip. You, me, Vera. Show the pack that we're united."

My blood went cold.

The border. The training camp. The isolated roads through rogue territory.

I knew this play. I'd lived it before.

In my previous life, this was where Allie had staged the ambush. Hired rogues to attack our convoy, making it look like a random assault. Isaac had survived. I hadn't been so lucky.

"That's... actually a good idea," Isaac said slowly. "Get out of the pack house. Away from all the whispers."

"Exactly." Allie's voice turned syrupy sweet. "We'll leave tomorrow morning. Just the three of us and a small security detail."

I moved away from the door, my mind racing.

She was making her move. Desperate and sloppy, but still dangerous.

I could refuse to go. Make an excuse. Stay safe within the pack house walls.

But that would only delay the inevitable. Allie would find another opportunity, another trap.

Better to face it head-on. On my terms.

I pulled out my burner phone—the one I'd bought with cash in a human town, untraceable—and typed a message to my father's private number.

*Border trip tomorrow. Allie planning ambush. Need Harper warriors shadowing convoy. Wait for my signal.*

The response came within seconds.

*Confirmed. We'll be ghosts until you need us. Stay safe, little moon.*

I deleted the messages and tucked the phone back into my pocket.

That night, I packed a small bag. Comfortable clothes. Sturdy boots. A silver knife that Grandma Stevens had given me, hidden in a sheath at the small of my back.

Isaac found me in the bedroom, his face drawn and pale. "Allie told you about tomorrow?"

"Yes." I folded a sweater, keeping my movements calm. Domestic. "It sounds nice. Getting away for a bit."

He studied me, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "You're not... you're okay with this?"

I crossed to him, placing my hand on his chest. Feeling his heartbeat, erratic and weak. The Silver-Dust was destroying him from the inside, and he had no idea.

"I'm your mate, Isaac," I said softly. "Where you go, I go."

He relaxed slightly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Good. That's... good."

I smiled up at him, playing the devoted Luna one more time.

While inside, Sasha sharpened her claws.

Tomorrow, we'd walk into Allie's trap.

And tomorrow, I'd spring mine.

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