And I let him. I let him believe I was still the naive, trusting mate he had marked. But deep down, I was already planning his downfall.
Alpha Trent Holland had taken everything from me—my mother, trust, and love.
Let’s take everything away from him, my wolf, and I said in unison.
“Lucy, I’ll leave for an Alpha meeting with the Northern Packs. It’ll just be a couple of days,” he murmured, brushing his lips against my forehead like the devoted mate he pretended to be. “I’ll miss you.”
I forced a smile, pretending to care. “Safe travels, my Alpha.”
Trent laughed when I called him Alpha. He knew I never called him that unless we were arguing over something, but he didn’t care because I said it in a loving tone, or he didn’t care.
When his black SUV disappeared beyond the tree line, I turned on my heel and got to work.
I had observed his routines for days, watching where he kept his most guarded possessions. Alpha always had secrets. And his? They were locked inside the packhouse vault with an easy code—Monica’s birthday.
When I tried it, it worked. The lock clicked open on my first try. Inside, everything I needed lay in neat, damning stacks.
The first set of documents were medical records—agreements for a ritualistic organ transfer—signed approvals for my mother’s heart to be sacrificed to save Monica’s sister.
I gripped the paper so tightly that my claws nearly shredded it. I never even signed any documents regarding my mother’s life.
Trent had done this. He had stolen my mother’s life, torn out her heart, and gifted it to the woman he truly loved. And then Trent had marked me, claimed me, and pretended I was his destined mate so that I wouldn’t ask questions. He was there when I was drowning in the same sorrows he caused.
I shoved the medical files aside and reached for another pile—financial transactions. At first glance, they appeared to be standard pack business, but I knew better now.
These weren’t simple payments. They were gifts.
Glistening jewelry. Lavish dresses. Luxurious vacations. All these are for Monica.
Then, I found my receipts for the gifts Trent had given me over the years—a necklace here, a ring there—things I had once cherished, thinking they were symbols of his love. But compared to what he had showered Monica with, they were scraps.