Chapter 3
I stood in the dimly lit pack treasury, my heart pounding against my ribs. The ledgers were spread before me on the antique oak desk that had belonged to generations of Sterling Alphas. My fingers moved quickly, photographing page after page of financial records with my phone's camera. Each click felt like a small act of rebellion, a tiny step toward freedom.
"Just pack business," I murmured to myself, the irony not lost on me as I used Michael's favorite excuse. My wolf stirred restlessly within me, urging me to hurry.
The treasury door creaked slightly, and I froze, holding my breath. After a moment of silence, I continued, carefully flipping to the section detailing pack fund transfers. There they were—just as David had suspected. Multiple large withdrawals, each labeled with vague descriptions like "security upgrades" or "territory maintenance."
But I knew better. I'd tracked where that money had actually gone: Amanda's new car, her shopping sprees in New York, the "healing retreat" that was actually a luxury spa in the Hamptons. All while our pack's medical supplies ran low and Emma's treatments were "budgeted."
I quickly accessed the pack's digital banking records on the computer, using the password I'd memorized years ago when Michael had carelessly left it on a sticky note. Screenshot after screenshot documented his betrayal in cold, hard numbers. Nearly $300,000 transferred to accounts I recognized as Amanda's shell companies.
"Luna Nina?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the voice behind me. It was Marcus, the elderly pack accountant.
"Just reviewing some discrepancies," I said smoothly, my years of courtroom composure serving me well. "Alpha Michael asked me to look into some... irregularities."
Marcus nodded respectfully, though his eyes held a knowing sadness. "Of course, Luna. Let me know if you need assistance."
After he left, I quickly finished gathering my evidence, tucking my phone securely into my jacket pocket. The weight of it felt like armor—protection against whatever came next.
* * *
The formal pack dinner that evening was a masterclass in pretense. I sat at Michael's right, playing the perfect Luna while my mate fawned over Amanda across the table. She wore a dress that cost more than most pack members earned in a month—another gift from my mate, no doubt.
"More wine, Luna?" Beta Tomas offered, his expression carefully neutral. He, like most of the pack, had learned to navigate the strange dynamics of our triangle.
"Thank you," I replied, smiling politely as I placed my briefcase beside my chair. It contained nothing but blank legal pads and pens—a prop in the performance I'd been giving for years.
Michael barely acknowledged my presence, too busy listening to Amanda's animated story about some perceived slight from a neighboring pack member. Her hands fluttered dramatically as she spoke, her eyes wide with manufactured distress.
"It was just horrible, Michael," she gushed, touching his arm possessively. "The way he looked at me—like he knew all about my past."
"No one will harm you while you're under my protection," Michael assured her, his voice carrying that hint of Alpha command that once made my knees weak. Now it just made my stomach turn.
Amanda's eyes flicked to me, a flash of triumph in them before she reached for her wine glass. With a movement too deliberate to be accidental, she knocked it over, sending red wine cascading across the table and directly onto my briefcase.
"Oh!" she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock horror. "Nina, I'm so sorry! Your important papers!"
Several pack members jumped up, rushing to mop up the spill with napkins. I remained seated, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of my mouth.
"Don't worry about it, Amanda," I said calmly, lifting my ruined briefcase. "Nothing irreplaceable in here."
Our eyes met, and for just a moment, her mask slipped. The malice in her gaze was palpable.
If only she knew that the real evidence—the photographs, the screenshots, the documentation of years of betrayal—was safely encrypted on servers she could never access. My wolf purred with satisfaction at the thought.
Little did Amanda realize she'd just given me one more piece of evidence: her deliberate malice, witnessed by a dozen pack members. Another small victory in the war she didn't yet know we were fighting.
* * *
The next afternoon, I was reviewing case files in my office when my phone buzzed with an alert from Emma's school. My daughter's distress pulsed through our mother-child bond, sending me racing across the pack grounds to the school courtyard.
I found her huddled beneath an old oak tree, her small body shaking with sobs. The scent of her fear and confusion hit me like a physical blow.
"Emma, baby, what happened?" I knelt beside her, gathering her into my arms.
"A-Aunt Amanda," she hiccupped, burying her face against my shoulder. "She said you don't really love me. That's why my wolf won't come. She said you're going to leave us and never come back."
Rage, white-hot and blinding, surged through me. My wolf clawed beneath my skin, demanding retribution.
"Listen to me," I said, tilting her tear-streaked face up to mine. "Nothing in this world could make me stop loving you. Nothing."
"But Aunt Amanda said—"
"Amanda lied," I said firmly, wiping away her tears. "And I promise you, she won't hurt you again."
As I held my trembling daughter, I made a silent vow. The mate bond rejection wouldn't just be about freeing myself from Michael—it would be about protecting Emma from the poison that had infected our pack.
And Amanda had just sealed her fate.
What she didn't realize was that she'd just threatened the child of not just any Luna, but a she-wolf who had spent years building legal weapons designed to dismantle those who abused their power. The reckoning was coming, and neither Michael nor Amanda would see it until it was too late.