Escaping the Alpha's Trap

I woke with a gasp, my body suddenly on fire. A searing pain radiated from my chest, spreading through my limbs like molten silver. My hands clutched at the sheets as I struggled to breathe through the agony.

*Madison, I'm back.*

The voice—that familiar, fierce voice I hadn't heard in three years—growled through my mind. I froze, afraid to hope, afraid to believe.

"Lyra?" I whispered into the darkness of my bedroom. "Is that really you?"

*Who else would it be? I've been fighting to reach you for so long.*

Tears sprang to my eyes as I felt my bones ache with a different kind of pain—the forgotten sensation of my wolf stirring beneath my skin. For three years, I'd been hollow, incomplete, a werewolf without her wolf. The doctors had called it trauma-induced suppression after the rogue attack. Ryan had been so supportive, so understanding...

*He lied to you. We've both been betrayed.*

Lyra's words were like ice water down my spine. I sat up, suddenly alert as my senses began to sharpen. Scents I hadn't detected in years flooded my nostrils—the cedar from the forest beyond our window, the lingering aroma of dinner from hours ago, and... something else. Something wrong.

Two distinct yet intertwined scents wafted from down the hall. One I recognized immediately—Ryan's woodsy, Alpha musk that once made my heart race. But it was tangled with another scent, one that should never be so intimately mixed with my mate's: the light floral perfume my sister Emma always wore.

*Follow it,* Lyra urged, her presence growing stronger with each passing second. *See the truth with your own eyes.*

I slid from our bed, my bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. The Silver Ridge Pack house was quiet at this late hour, most of the pack asleep in their quarters. As Luna, I had the right to wander freely, though in recent years, few acknowledged me with the respect the title deserved. Not since I became the broken, pitied mate of their powerful Alpha.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I followed the scents, growing stronger as I approached Ryan's private study. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling into the darkened hallway. Soft voices drifted through the gap.

"How much longer do we have to keep up this charade?" Emma's voice, petulant and breathy.

"Patience, my love." Ryan's reply made my stomach turn. "The council won't accept a rejection without cause. We need more time."

I inched closer, my enhanced vision allowing me to peer through the narrow opening. The sight that greeted me shattered what remained of my world.

Ryan had Emma pressed against his desk, his hands tangled in her hair—the same hands that had stroked my face with false tenderness hours earlier. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her body arched toward him with familiar intimacy. My sister. My mate. Locked in a lover's embrace.

"She suspects nothing?" Emma asked between kisses. "After all this time?"