Chapter 12

Alpha Ellison.

I woke to the pale glow of morning pushing past the edges of my curtains, a softness I hadn’t felt in months. My body felt... rested. Not just physically, but something deeper. Like my soul had taken a breath.

Strange.

I blinked at the ceiling, allowing myself a rare moment of stillness. The blankets were tangled around my legs, the air still warm with the scent of lavender and something faintly familiar. Then it hit me—Lucy.

She had come to my room last night, hadn’t she?

I shot upright, scanning the room. No sign of her. The armchair near the fireplace was empty. The slippers at the end of my bed hadn’t moved. Was it a dream? I could’ve sworn I felt her warmth beside me… the soft pressure of her fingers, the way her presence had wrapped around my heart like a balm.

But now, she was gone. If she had been here at all.

A bitter exhale escaped my lips as I ran a hand down my face. Dreams didn’t usually leave this kind of ache.

I shoved the thought aside. Today wasn’t the day to dwell on shadows and warmth that might not have been real. I had a meeting with the High Council, and they were already circling like vultures. I stood, walked into the bathroom, and let the cold spray of the shower fall on my skin until the fog cleared from my head.

By the time I stepped out, I was all Alpha again.

I pulled on my best black suit—a tailored piece lined with silver threading down the sleeves, our pack's insignia etched into the buttons. Commanding, regal, and deliberate. Exactly what today called for.

The palace corridors buzzed with morning energy. Guards bowed their heads as I passed. Servants stilled their movements just long enough to acknowledge me. But all of it felt distant. My mind was already in the council chamber.

I reached the main hall and stepped into the massive room, lined with long windows and marbled pillars. The ministers were already seated, murmuring to each other. Papers rustled. Pens scratched. The room smelled faintly of polished wood and the tension of politics.

“Alpha Ellison,” Minister Torvak said, standing as I entered.

I gave him a curt nod. “Let’s get started.”

We dove into the agenda—project allocations, border patrol disputes, pack trade routes. Then came the topic I’d been preparing for all week: the resource budget for the southern development. I reached for the report, but before I could speak, Minister Torvak cleared his throat and handed me a folder.

“I believe Luna Calantha already signed off on the proposal,” he said with a polite smile.

My fingers stilled on the leather-bound folder. “What did you say?”

He blinked, confused. “The Luna. She reviewed and approved the budget last night. We thought… we assumed it came with your blessing.”

I opened the folder, eyes scanning the figures and allocations. My jaw clenched. My signature was not on the bottom of the page.

But hers was.

Luna Calantha. In bold ink. The flowing, serpentine lines of her handwriting like a slap to the face.

She had gone behind my back.

The room seemed to close in around me. My chest tightened as my wolf stirred within me, growling low, furious. She had crossed a line. One I had drawn clearly when I became Alpha.

“That assumption,” I said, voice low and hard, “was incorrect. This document is null until I say otherwise.”

Torvak’s eyes widened, but he nodded quickly. “Of course, Alpha.”

I barely made it through the rest of the meeting. Every word spoken afterward was white noise. The moment the session adjourned, I didn’t wait for the ministers to leave. I stormed out of the chamber, my steps echoing through the halls like thunder.

By the time I reached Calantha’s chambers, I didn’t bother knocking. I pushed the door open with enough force to make it slam against the wall.

She looked up from her vanity mirror, calm as ever, brushing her silver-streaked hair. “Ellison,” she said smoothly. “Good morning.”

“Don’t play coy with me,” I snapped, stepping inside. “You approved the southern development budget. Without my knowledge. Without my consent.”

She turned, her expression infuriatingly serene. “The proposal had been sitting on your desk for over a week. The council needed a decision, and as the lady dowager—”

“You don't have any right,” I cut her off. “You're only there because my mother is no more. That authority is not yours to wield.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I acted in the interest of the pack. You’ve been… distracted lately. Someone had to keep things moving.”

My fists clenched at my sides. “Do not mistake patience for negligence. And don’t you ever undermine me like that again, Calantha. The next time you do, I won’t just tear up your signature. I’ll strip you of your seat at the table.”

She stood slowly, her lips curling into a faint smile. “You’re starting to sound just like your father.”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t trust myself to.

Instead, I turned on my heel and walked out, the echo of my boots following me down the hall like a war drum.

By the time I reached my quarters, my blood was still boiling. I slammed the door behind me, needing solitude, needing—

Then I saw Ivy.

Sprawled on my bed like a lioness in waiting, her limbs draped in a sheer crimson dress that left little to the imagination. Her dark hair cascaded down her bare shoulders, her eyes smoldering as they met mine.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” I asked, my voice still sharp from the confrontation.

“I heard you had a rough morning,” she purred, her voice thick with seduction. “Thought I’d help you unwind.”

Before I could respond, she stood and crossed the room, hips swaying like she owned every inch of the space between us. I felt the heat before she even touched me. Her fingers brushed my chest, slid down the buttons of my shirt. She hesitated for a bit and then curled her finger on the tip on my nipples. I knew her very well, she was very skilled at things like this and she would get any man in her bed with her skills.

“Ivy,” I warned.

But she didn’t listen. She rose onto her toes, pressing her mouth against mine with a hunger I hadn’t seen in her before. Her body pressed against me, hot and insistent, and I—damn it—I let her.

For a moment, I let the fire consume me. The anger. The betrayal. The ache of not knowing whether Lucy had been real last night or just a figment of a lonely mind.

But just as Ivy’s hands slid beneath my shirt, and inside my trousers, I saw Lucy. Call it a trance or whatever but I did.

Her soft smile. The way her eyes lit up when she laughed. The way her hand had trembled when she’d reached for mine.

My body froze.

I pulled away, breathless. “Stop.”

Ivy blinked, confused. “What?”

“I said stop.” I stepped back, running a hand through my hair. “This isn’t happening.”

She stared at me, eyes narrowing. “Is this about your new baby making machine? You used to like this.”

I didn’t answer.

“You think she’s not playing you?” she snapped. “She’s a girl from the trash, someone that would accept money to bear you children—one scandal away from exile. And you’re throwing me away for her?”

“You need to leave,” I said quietly, the edge in my voice unmistakable.

She looked at me for a long moment, then laughed coldly. “fine!”

With a swish of her dress, she turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, my breath shallow.

What the hell was happening to me?

I knew the damn answer to that! It was her.

Lucy.

And I wasn't sure if I was ready to face what that meant.