[Since we're all done with pretenses now...]

[Why bother hiding anymore? So what if pack opinion turns against me? The bold ones claim their pleasures first!]

[The more wolves attack me, the more your mate protects me. The better my standing becomes. Believe it or not!]

I watched the mirror-orb recording she'd sent.

Rogan, already making arrangements to transfer territory rights and den resources. His voice carrying through a speaking-stone, giving instructions:

"Separate everything tied to my mating bond with Selene—including my holdings in the outer territories. Transfer all of it into Lyra's name. Make the ward-stone bindings seamless. Selene has zero tolerance for deception, so I need to prepare for the worst."

"Understood, Alpha."

"If Selene can accept this situation, admit she was wrong, and make room for Lyra within our den... then fine. She remains my bonded Luna."

"But if she refuses to know her place?"

"Then I'll make certain Selene ends up with nothing—no territory, no tribute, no pack standing."

I stared at that familiar face in the orb's glow.

A chill seeped through me, settling deep in my bones like silver poison.

The Alpha I'd shared a den with for years—the moment I caught him in his scent-betrayal, his first instinct wasn't fear. Wasn't remorse.

It was demanding that I clear his Omega consort's reputation.

So he wanted me to accept his Omega consort into our bond—and then tolerate her presence within our territory.

I laughed. Actually laughed.

But Rogan wasn't wrong about one thing.

I really couldn't stand a single grain of sand in my eye.

So when Raven sent over Lyra's scent-trail dossier—and received the mirror-orb recordings and captured images I'd forwarded—she called me through the pack link, already laughing.

"I have to say, Rogan found himself a real idiot!"

"We didn't even need to go digging for evidence. She gift-wrapped it and handed it right to us!"

Raven's laughter rang through the connection.

"Those recordings alone are enough to bury Rogan before the Pack Council. And then there's your bonded territory rights."

"Also," she asked, "when your parents pledged their territory collateral for his pack's founding, didn't he sign a blood-oath debt?"

He had.

Rogan had insisted on making that oath. He'd made me witness the entire ritual—said it was to give my bloodline peace of mind.

Even when my parents refused, even when I said it really wasn't necessary.