Chapter 3

The pack house felt like a museum of my former life as I wandered its familiar halls. Three years had changed nothing about the mahogany paneling or the ancestral portraits lining the walls, yet everything felt foreign, tainted by the knowledge of what had been done to me here.

I found Elder Morrison and Elder Hayes in the library, their graying heads bent over ceremony preparations. My heart lifted slightly—surely these wise wolves, who had known me since childhood, would listen to reason.

"Elders," I said softly, stepping into the room. "I need to speak with you about something urgent."

Elder Morrison looked up, his weathered face creasing into what might have been sympathy. "Melissa, child. We heard about your... ordeal with the rogues. Terrible business."

"That's what I need to tell you," I pressed forward, my voice gaining strength. "There were no rogues. No kidnapping. It was all fabricated—"

"Now, now," Elder Hayes interrupted, his tone patronizing in a way that made my wolf bristle. "We understand you've been through trauma. Living among rogues for three years... well, it's bound to affect one's perception of reality."

The dismissal hit me like a slap. "My perception is fine. Dean has been paying Marcus Thompson monthly to keep me away. I have the financial records—"

"Rogue-induced delusions are more common than you might think," Elder Morrison said gently, as if speaking to a child. "The lack of pack bonds, the constant stress, the suppression of your wolf nature—it can create false memories, paranoid thoughts."

I stared at them in disbelief. These men had known me my entire life, had watched me grow from a pup to a mated she-wolf. Yet they looked at me now like I was a stranger, contaminated by my time away.

"Alpha Dean has been nothing but devoted during your absence," Elder Hayes continued, shuffling his papers with finality. "He's maintained hope for your return while shouldering the burden of leadership alone. Perhaps you should focus on healing rather than entertaining these... fantasies."

The word 'fantasies' echoed in my mind as I left the library, my hands trembling with suppressed rage. They wouldn't listen. Worse, they'd been conditioned not to listen, prepared for exactly this scenario.

I made my way toward the kitchen, hoping to find some corner of this house where I could think clearly. But as I approached, voices drifted through the partially open door—voices that made me freeze in the hallway.

"—royal duties can't be delayed much longer," Elder Morrison's voice carried clearly. "The Lycan Council expects Prince Dean to take his place at court within the month."

"And he will," came Elder Hayes' reply. "Once this situation with his former mate is properly resolved. A Lycan Prince needs a Luna worthy of the throne, not some Omega who's been living with rogues."

Prince Dean. Lycan Prince Dean.

The words hit me like physical blows. My mate—the wolf I'd loved, trusted, bore a child with—wasn't just some pack Alpha. He was royalty. Lycan royalty. And I... I was nothing more than an embarrassing obstacle to his ascension.

"The ceremony tomorrow will be the perfect opportunity," Elder Morrison continued. "Young Alec's Coming-of-Age, the whole pack gathered. If she causes any disruption, any scene, it will only prove she's been compromised by her time with rogues."

I pressed myself against the wall, my wolf whimpering as the full scope of the conspiracy became clear. This wasn't just about Dean wanting me gone—this was about protecting a royal bloodline from contamination by an unworthy Omega.

Footsteps approached from behind, and I quickly moved away from the kitchen door, slipping into the adjacent pantry. Through the crack, I watched Harmony enter the kitchen, her blonde hair perfectly styled, her posture radiating confidence.

"Elders," she greeted them warmly. "How are the preparations coming along?"

"Quite well, my dear," Elder Hayes replied, and I could hear the approval in his voice. "You've done an excellent job managing everything in... difficult circumstances."

Harmony's laugh was like silver bells, sweet and musical. "It's been my honor to serve the pack. And Dean, of course."

I waited until their voices faded before emerging from my hiding spot, but I'd barely taken two steps when Harmony appeared in the doorway, blocking my path. Her green eyes glittered with malicious satisfaction as she took in my disheveled appearance.

"Well, well," she purred, stepping into the kitchen and closing the door behind her with a soft click. "The prodigal Omega returns. You look... rough, Melissa. Three years with rogues really takes its toll, doesn't it?"

I straightened my spine, meeting her gaze directly. "Cut the act, Harmony. I know what you did."

Her mask didn't even flicker. If anything, her smile grew wider, more predatory. "What I did? I stepped up when my pack sister abandoned her family. I comforted a grieving mate and helped raise his son when his mother chose criminals over her own blood."

"You helped orchestrate the whole thing," I said, my voice steady despite the fury building in my chest. "You and Dean planned this from the beginning."

Harmony moved closer, her scent carrying notes of expensive perfume and something darker underneath—satisfaction, triumph, the metallic tang of lies. "Prove it."

The challenge hung between us like a blade. She knew I had no proof they would accept, no evidence that wouldn't be dismissed as rogue-induced paranoia.

"Let me make something crystal clear," Harmony continued, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow felt more threatening than any shout. "Dean is going to be the next Lycan King. And I am going to be his Luna. Tomorrow, at Alec's ceremony, he's going to announce our engagement to the pack."

Each word was a carefully placed dagger, designed to inflict maximum damage. My wolf howled in anguish, but I kept my expression neutral.

"If you try to disrupt that ceremony," Harmony went on, circling me like a predator, "if you make even the slightest scene or breathe one word of your delusional conspiracy theories, I will make sure every pack in the territory knows you've been compromised by rogues. You'll be branded a sympathizer, exiled permanently. And Alec?" Her smile turned vicious. "He'll never speak to you again."

The kitchen felt suffocatingly small, the walls closing in as the full weight of my situation crashed down on me. I was trapped—caught between the truth no one would believe and the lies everyone had already accepted.

Harmony reached out and patted my cheek with mock gentleness. "Welcome home, sister."