The next morning, the pack house was alive with whispers. Nicole could feel them buzzing around her as she descended the grand staircase, every pair of eyes following her. Some were curious. Others were calculating. A few—just a few—looked sympathetic.
But sympathy was as useless as empty promises.
The heels of her boots clicked softly against the polished wood, her spine straight and chin lifted. She had no intention of giving anyone the satisfaction of seeing her look small or broken. Her gown from the night before had been replaced with dark trousers, a fitted sweater, and a leather jacket—an outfit that gave her freedom of movement. It was practical, but it also sent a message.
A Luna who was ready for battle.
As she crossed the foyer, a pair of young omegas fell silent mid-whisper, eyes wide. One of them, barely out of her teens, mumbled a greeting.
"Luna Nicole."
Nicole's lips curved in something that might have passed for a smile. "Morning."
She didn't stop walking.
The dining hall was already full. Members of the pack sat at long tables, the air thick with the scent of breakfast—coffee, fresh bread, and sizzling bacon. Brian wasn't there yet, but she was.
The woman who had been introduced last night as his "fated mate."
She sat at the head table, in Nicole's place. Her long auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders, and her emerald eyes swept over the room with an easy confidence that made Nicole's fingers itch. She wore soft cream-colored silk that clung to her curves, paired with a smile that was all honey and poison.
Nicole paused in the doorway just long enough for the room to notice her.
"Good morning, Luna," several voices chorused automatically.
Her gaze locked briefly on the auburn-haired woman. "Good morning," Nicole replied evenly, but she didn't walk toward the head table. Instead, she took a seat halfway down, with the warriors. The move was deliberate—both a refusal to acknowledge the usurpation of her seat and a subtle reminder that she still had ties outside the Alpha's bed.
The warriors shifted slightly, giving her space. Most avoided eye contact, but she caught one or two glancing at her with the faintest trace of respect.
Good. Not everyone was blind.
A moment later, Brian entered. The chatter dimmed instantly. He scanned the room, his eyes catching on Nicole—and something flickered there. Guilt? Regret? She didn't care to analyze it.
He crossed to the head table without a word to her, bent, and kissed the auburn-haired woman on the cheek. Nicole didn't look away. If he wanted to flaunt her in front of the pack, then he could also deal with the weight of her gaze.
The rest of breakfast passed in a blur of clinking cutlery and muffled conversation. Nicole spoke little, focusing on her coffee and the steady beat of her own thoughts.
When she rose to leave, she caught the faintest whiff of lavender—her scent—still clinging to Brian's jacket. He hadn't washed it. The thought slid into her mind like a shard of glass.
Flashback – Two Years Earlier
They had been on the training field at dawn, the sky streaked with pale gold. Brian had been sparring with three warriors at once, his movements fluid and lethal. When he finally dismissed them, he walked straight to her, grinning like a boy who'd just caught the moon.
"You're staring," he teased, wiping sweat from his brow.
Nicole smirked. "You're imagining things, Alpha."
"Am I?" He stepped closer, his scent wrapping around her. "Because I could've sworn my Luna looked at me like I was the only man in the world."
"That's because you are," she admitted softly.
He kissed her then, right there on the training field, and the pack had cheered.
Back to Present
The memory burned, hot and cold at once.
Nicole left the dining hall without a word, her mind turning over possibilities. If she stayed passive, they'd destroy her piece by piece. But if she played this right, she could turn the tables—and no one would see it coming.
Her first move had to be quiet. Strategic.
And she knew exactly where to start.
Nicole didn't head to her quarters. Instead, she took a side corridor that led away from the public heart of the pack house. The hallways here were quieter, lined with old portraits of Alphas past, their painted gazes following her.
The one she stopped at was of Alpha Richard—the man who'd led before Brian's father. He had been ruthless, but also a tactician, someone who understood that strength meant little without loyalty. Nicole's father used to speak of him with a strange mix of fear and respect.
It was in this wing that she found Elias.
Elias was the pack's Head of Security—a broad-shouldered, graying warrior whose loyalty was as famous as his stubbornness. He had been Brian's mentor once, and Nicole had always respected him.
"Luna," Elias said, inclining his head when he saw her.
"Elias," she returned. "We need to talk."
His brow furrowed slightly. "About?"
"About the pack. About… shifts in loyalty."
He glanced around before motioning her into his office. Once the door shut, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly.
"I know what you saw last night," Nicole began. "I know what everyone saw. And I know what people will think they're supposed to do now—choose sides, wait for the wind to blow, pretend they don't see what's right in front of them."
Elias studied her. "And you want me to choose yours."
Nicole didn't flinch. "I want you to choose the pack's. And you know as well as I do that chaos doesn't serve us. Brian's fated mate might have a claim, but she doesn't know this pack. She hasn't bled for it. I have."
Something flickered in his eyes. Not quite agreement, not yet, but interest.
"Why tell me this, Luna?"
"Because when the time comes," she said, "I'm going to need someone who can make sure the pack hears the truth—not just the version Brian or his mate wants to feed them."
Elias leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping the armrest. "You're asking me to spy for you."
Nicole allowed herself the faintest smile. "I'm asking you to remember where your loyalties truly lie."
He didn't answer right away, but when he finally nodded once, it was enough. "I'll listen. And I'll watch. That's all I can promise for now."
"It's enough," she said, and meant it.
By the time she returned to her quarters, she'd already started making a mental list. Allies. Weak points. Moves she could make without openly defying Brian but that would quietly reassert her authority.
The pack had long been used to looking to her for guidance in practical matters—organizing events, overseeing disputes, smoothing the political ties between them and neighboring packs. Those responsibilities hadn't been stripped from her yet. If she leaned into them, she could keep her influence intact.
And if influence remained, power followed.
She was halfway through drafting an invitation for the upcoming Winter Solstice gathering when there was a knock at her door.
It wasn't Brian.
It was the auburn-haired woman.
Nicole kept her face carefully neutral as she opened the door. "Can I help you?"
The woman's smile was warm, practiced. "I thought we should… talk. After last night."
Nicole stepped aside just far enough to allow her in. "Then talk."
The woman's eyes swept the room as if cataloging it for later use. "My name is Lilith."
Of course it was. Nicole had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.
"I'm not here to start a war with you," Lilith said sweetly. "But I am Brian's fated mate. And you know what that means."
Nicole folded her arms. "It means nothing unless the pack accepts you. And the pack doesn't trust easily."
Lilith tilted her head. "Then perhaps you could help them accept me."
Nicole's laugh was soft and humorless. "You expect me to pave the way for my own replacement?"
"I expect you to be smart," Lilith said, her tone sharpening. "Because if you fight me, you'll lose. But if you work with me, maybe you'll keep some… dignity."
Nicole stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "You have no idea what I'll keep, Lilith. But here's a promise—whatever dignity I have left, it won't come from bowing to you."
For a heartbeat, their gazes locked, the air between them electric with silent challenge.
Then Lilith's smile returned, brittle and cold. "We'll see."
She left without another word.
Nicole stood there a long moment after the door shut, her pulse steady but her mind already racing. Lilith had shown her hand too early. The arrogance was
almost refreshing—it made her predictable.
Predictable enemies were easier to destroy.
By the time Nicole left the training grounds, her mind was already mapping the next two moves. Marcellus was a start, but a single thread wouldn't hold the pack together when the fabric started to tear. She needed more.
Her next stop was the greenhouse. Most people forgot it was even part of the packhouse complex—it was quiet, humid, and filled with the scent of damp earth. There, bent over a tray of seedlings, was Evelyn, the pack's head gardener and one of the few who'd been around longer than Nicole herself.
"Luna," Evelyn said without looking up. Her voice was warm but laced with the kind of frankness only the old could get away with. "I thought you'd be storming war rooms, not walking among my herbs."
Nicole smiled faintly. "Storms need roots, Evelyn. And you've been keeping this pack's roots alive longer than most of us have been breathing."
The old woman's hands didn't stop their careful work, but Nicole could see the flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "You want something."
"I want you to remind them what we've survived before. Remind them how many times someone's tried to take this place apart, and how many times they've failed."
Evelyn finally straightened, wiping her soil-stained hands on her apron. "I can do that. But you'd better give them a reason to believe it's true again."
Nicole inclined her head. "I will."
The second stop came almost by chance. She found Callen, the weapons master, in the armory. His presence was pure steel—tall, scarred, built like a fortress.
"You've been quiet," Nicole said, stepping into the room.
"Noise is for people who need to be heard," he replied without glancing up from the blade he was oiling.
"Then hear me," Nicole said, stepping closer. "If Lilith takes this pack, she'll strip our defenses first. The warriors will have nothing but their claws. That's why I need you to stand ready—without question, without hesitation."
Callen looked up finally, meeting her eyes. There was no softness in his gaze, but there was recognition. "You always did know how to prepare for a fight before it came knocking."
"Because by the time it knocks, it's already inside," Nicole replied.
His mouth curved into the faintest of smirks. "You have my word, Luna."
Two more voices. Two more anchors.
By late afternoon, the training grounds were humming again. Nicole didn't step into the center this time—she didn't need to. She leaned casually against the railing, arms crossed, watching.
When the warriors noticed her, their movements sharpened, their posture straightened. Not because she spoke, but because her presence demanded it.
One young fighter, clearly eager to impress, made a sloppy lunge that sent him sprawling into the dirt. Nicole didn't move, but her expression—just the smallest tightening at the corner of her mouth—was enough to make him scramble up and correct his stance without a word.
That was the thing about authority. The moment you begged for it, you'd already lost it.
That night, Nicole sat alone in her quarters, the air thick with the scent of rain. She let her guard down just enough to remember another winter—years ago, when Brian was still hers.
It had been a hunt, deep in the snow. She'd been shivering, teeth chattering, and cursing him under her breath for dragging her out at dawn. But then he'd stopped, pointing through the frost-covered trees at a clearing where the sun broke over the horizon, painting the snow in molten gold.
"This is why I brought you," he'd said, his voice low, almost reverent. "So you'd remember that not everything worth fighting for comes easy."
She'd laughed then, breathless in the cold, thinking there was no one else she'd rather freeze beside.
Now, the memory felt like a wound—one that hadn't stopped bleeding, no matter how tightly s
he wrapped it.
And tomorrow, she would have to face him.
The first ally came to Nicole without her needing to summon him.
Ronan stood in the doorway of the war room, tall, broad-shouldered, the faint scent of rain clinging to him. His eyes scanned the maps she'd spread across the table—territories marked, patrol schedules shifted in subtle ways Brian's new "order" wouldn't immediately notice.
"You're making changes," Ronan murmured, his voice pitched low enough that only she could hear.
"I'm making corrections," Nicole replied without looking up. Her hand slid one of the pieces on the board into position. "If I don't, the cracks in our defenses will widen."
He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of him. "I'll back you. You won't have to ask."
It was said so simply, as though he was promising to sharpen a blade instead of risk his life. Nicole glanced at him, letting a rare flicker of warmth touch her features. "Good. Keep your eyes on the northern patrols. If anyone questions it, tell them you're following my orders."
The second ally took a little more effort.
Mara was all sharp edges and suspicion, the kind of wolf who trusted no one without proof. Nicole found her in the storage room, stacking crates of supplies for the next hunt.
"You've been quiet," Nicole said, leaning casually against the doorframe.
"I've been watching." Mara didn't stop moving, but Nicole could see the tension in her shoulders.
"And?"
"And I see what you're doing," Mara replied finally, straightening to meet her gaze. "You're keeping the pack from walking straight into a trap. I'm not blind."
Nicole tilted her head. "Then you know I'll need help keeping it that way."
For a moment, Mara hesitated—but then she nodded once, quick and decisive. "I'm in. Just… make sure we don't all get dragged down when this explodes."
"It won't explode," Nicole said softly, though they both knew she was lying. "It will burn—and I'll make sure the right people get scorched."
By dusk, the training grounds were alive with the sounds of impact—thuds, grunts, the metallic ring of weapons clashing. Nicole stood on the edge, arms folded, watching the younger wolves spar under the watch of Brian's appointed captain.
When one of the boys stumbled, the captain barked at him, too harsh, too careless.
Nicole didn't move.
She didn't raise her voice.
But the next time the captain turned his head, he found her gaze fixed on him—steady, cold, unblinking. It lasted only seconds, but it was enough. His tone softened immediately, the bark fading to instruction.
The other wolves noticed. They always did. She didn't have to announce her authority. She wore it like a second skin, and the smart ones remembered who had kept this pack alive before Brian's return.
That night, the quiet was almost unbearable. Nicole sat by the window in her quarters, moonlight spilling across her lap. Her fingers toyed with the chain around her neck—a simple silver pendant Brian had given her years ago.
She remembered the night he'd pressed it into her palm, his eyes alight with something unguarded, something real. "So you'll always have a piece of me with you," he'd said. She'd believed him. She'd wanted to.
The memory twisted now, sharp as a blade.
She let the pendant fall against her chest and closed her eyes, the ache settling deep.
Tomorrow, she would play the loyal second again.
But tonight, just for a breath, she let herself remember the man she'd loved before the betrayal—because soon, she would
need to kill what remained of him in her heart.