The Alpha’s Mate Tried to Kill Our Heir

The scent of disinfectant and crayons filled my nostrils as I scrubbed the last of the fingerpaint from the small wooden table. Five years of exile had taught me to move silently, to be invisible—a ghost among the living. I dipped my rag into the soapy water, watching the colors swirl before rinsing it clean.

"Careful with that table, Isla," Elena, the head teacher, called from across the playroom. "It's older than both of us."

I nodded, wringing out the rag with practiced efficiency. "Just a few more minutes and this area will be spotless for tomorrow's activities."

The Silverclaw Pup Academy was my sanctuary and my prison—the only place in the pack territory where a wolfless Omega like me could find employment. Here, among the youngest pups who hadn't yet learned to sneer at my status, I could almost pretend I belonged.

"Remember to mask your scent again before the evening check," Elena reminded me quietly as she passed. "Monica's been asking questions about the staff roster."

My stomach tightened at the mention of her name. Five years, and still the sound of Monica Pierce—now Luna Monica—sent ice through my veins.

"I will," I promised, reaching for the small vial of scent-masking oil I kept tucked in my pocket. A precious commodity for someone of my station, but necessary for survival.

The afternoon sun slanted through the windows as I organized the colorful blocks into neat piles. This was my favorite time of day—the quiet before the storm of parents arriving to collect their pups. I allowed myself to relax, just slightly.

Then the air changed.

A wave of power—primal, ancient, and achingly familiar—rolled through the building. My knees buckled as the unmistakable scent of pine and winter frost filled my lungs.

*Caleb*.

I froze, my fingers still wrapped around a yellow block as heavy footsteps approached the entrance. The other staff members straightened instantly, their postures shifting from relaxed to rigid in seconds.

"Alpha," they chorused, bowing their heads respectfully.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Five years of carefully constructed walls crumbled as I heard his voice—deeper now, more commanding than I remembered.

"I'm dropping off the heir today," Caleb announced, his tone clipped and businesslike. "There's been a change in schedule."

The room spun around me as I forced myself to shrink further into the corner, pressing my back against the wall. *Don't look up. Don't breathe. Don't exist.*

But then a small voice piped up, trembling slightly: "Father, I don't want to stay here. I want to go home with you."

My heart stopped. That voice—small, brave despite its fear—pierced through the numbness I'd cultivated for years.

"Kai," Caleb's voice softened fractionally, "you need to learn with the other pups. It's important for your development as future Alpha."

I risked glancing up, just for a second.

Caleb stood tall in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, dark hair shorter than I remembered. But it was the small figure beside him that captured my attention—a