LOGIN
Penelope's POV
I shouldn't be here. The thought echoes in my mind as I huddle deeper into my worn jacket, pressing myself against the cold brick wall outside the Frostfang Ice Stadium. My physics textbook digs into my ribs where I clutch it, but nothing can protect me from what I'm about to witness. "Just a quick peek," I whisper to myself, the same lie I've been telling for months. "Just to see him skate." Lyra, my wolf, whimpers softly in my mind. This isn't healthy, Penelope. You're torturing yourself. But I can't stop. Timothy Blackthorn is like staring at the sun; he is dangerous, impossible, and utterly irresistible. For three years, I've watched him from the shadows of lecture halls and cafeteria corners, memorizing the way he moves, the sound of his laugh, the casual confidence that radiates from him. The service entrance I've been using to sneak peeks at practice sessions is slightly ajar tonight. Through the gap, I can see into the equipment room where players sometimes change before heading home. My heart hammers against my ribs as I lean closer, knowing I should leave, knowing this is wrong, but unable to resist. That's when I see them. Timothy has Madison Sawyer pressed against the equipment lockers, her perfectly manicured hands tangled in his dark hair. She's everything I'm not: is tall, confident, from a respected Beta family. Her designer clothes are scattered across the floor. "You're so good to me, Timothy," Madison purrs, her voice breathy with desire. "Better than any of those other boys could ever be." He chuckles, low and rough. "You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?" My stomach plummets to my feet. I should look away. I should run. But I'm frozen, watching the boy I've secretly loved for years worship another girl's body like she's a goddess. "Tell me I'm the only one," Madison demands, arching against him. "Tell me I'm special." Timothy's response is muffled against her neck, but I catch enough. "You're incredible, Madison. Absolutely incredible." The textbook slips from my numb fingers, hitting the concrete with a sharp crack that echoes through the tunnel. Both heads snap toward the sound, and for one horrifying second, Timothy's storm-blue eyes meet mine through the crack in the door. Recognition flashes across his features, not the kind I've dreamed about, but the cold awareness that the weird Omega girl has been watching him. His expression shifts from surprise to something worse: pity mixed with disgust. I run. My sneakers slap against the pavement as I flee through the back parking lot, tears already burning my eyes. Behind me, I hear Madison's tinkling laugh and Timothy's mumbled explanation probably calling me a stalker or a freak. The words I imagine he's saying cut deeper than any object could. Pathetic little Omega. Delusional nobody. As if someone like her could ever interest me. By the time I reach the bus stop, I'm sobbing so hard I can barely see. The other passengers give me a wide berth—nobody wants to deal with a crying Omega having a breakdown. My phone buzzes with a text from Mom asking when I'll be home, and I realize I forgot my textbook. Twelve hours of work shifts to afford that stupid book, and now it's abandoned in a tunnel where Timothy Blackthorn just crushed my heart into powder. The bus ride home stretches endlessly through Frost Haven's darkened streets. Through the fogged windows, I watch the glowing mansions of the Alpha district give way to the cramped apartments of the lower ranks. My reflection stares back ordinary brown hair, unremarkable hazel eyes, skin too pale from spending all my free time studying instead of socializing. No wonder he looked at me with such disdain. Lyra tries to comfort me. You're worthy of love, Penelope. Someday. Someday what? I snap internally. Someday a prince will notice the nobody Omega? This isn't a fairy tale. When I finally stumble through our apartment door, Mom looks up from her mountain of paperwork. She works three jobs to keep us afloat since Dad's disgrace, and the exhaustion shows in every line of her face. "Sweetheart, you look upset," she says, setting down her pen. "What happened?" I can't tell her the truth that I've been secretly stalking the Alpha heir like some lovesick puppy, that I witnessed him with another girl, that my heart feels like it's been fed through a wood chipper. Instead, I mumble something about a difficult test and escape to my tiny bedroom. The walls are covered with newspaper clippings of Timothy's hockey victories, carefully cut from sports sections and arranged like shrines to my own stupidity. His face grins down at me from dozens of photos scoring goals, lifting trophies, celebrating with teammates who actually matter. I should tear them down. Should grow up, accept reality, focus on my studies instead of impossible dreams. But my hands shake as I trace the edge of one photo, remembering the way his eyes looked right through me tonight. "I'm such an idiot," I whisper to my reflection in the dark window. "Such a pathetic, invisible idiot." My phone buzzes with a notification someone tagged me in a social media post. My blood turns to ice as I open the app and see what awaits me. It's a video from tonight, shot by someone in the stadium tunnel. The caption reads: "Creepy Omega stalker caught spying on hockey gods! #StalklerAlert #OmegaProblems #Pathetic" The footage is grainy but clear enough. There I am, pressed against the wall like a lovesick fool, watching Timothy and Madison through that crack in the door. The camera captures my devastated expression when they notice me, my clumsy flight, even the textbook I dropped in my panic. The comments are already pouring in: "OMG so embarrassing!" "Someone needs to teach Omegas their place." "Timothy should get a restraining order." "Second-hand cringe! Poor girl has no clue." My phone slips from my trembling fingers as the full horror hits me. By tomorrow morning, the entire pack will know. They'll know I've been watching him, that I'm the pathetic Omega with delusions of grandeur. They'll laugh about the girl who thought she had a chance with their golden boy. "Penelope?" Mom's voice calls through my door. "I heard crying. Are you." She stops speaking when she sees my phone screen, still displaying the cruel video. Her face crumples with secondhand embarrassment. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispers, sinking onto my bed. "What have you done?" The disappointment in her voice cuts deeper than any online comment. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry." "We can't afford this kind of attention," she says quietly, running tired hands through her graying hair. "Not with our family's reputation already destroyed. This will make things worse for all of us." I curl up on my narrow bed, pulling my pillow over my head as if it can muffle the shame burning through my veins. Three years of careful invisibility, ruined in one moment of weakness. Three years of protecting my secret, destroyed by a dropped textbook and someone's cruel phone camera. But even as shame consumes me, a terrible hope blooms in my chest. Maybe the video will force Timothy to notice me. Maybe he'll realize we're meant to be together. Maybe this is the Moon Goddess's way of bringing us closer. Lyra whimpers in my mind, trying to offer comfort, but even my wolf feels the crushing weight of our humiliation. Still, deep down, she whispers dangerous things about destiny and bonds that can't be broken. Outside my window, snow begins to fall. Tomorrow I'll have to face school, face the stares and whispers and pointed fingers. Tomorrow I'll have to pretend I don't care that my deepest secret has become everyone's entertainment. But tonight, I let myself break. Tonight, I cry for the girl who believed in fairy tales and the woman who's learning that some dreams are just elaborate forms of self-torture. The worst part isn't the embarrassment or even the public humiliation waiting for me tomorrow. The worst part is that even after everything after seeing him with Madison, after being exposed as a stalker, after becoming the pack's latest joke I still believe he might choose me. And that delusion makes me the most pathetic creature in the entire territory.Liam pov "It's not," Isla says. "It's just hard, it requires actually examining your motives, admitting your flaws, changing your behavior. Most people aren't willing to do that work.""Are you?" I ask, curious despite my misery."I'm working on it," Isla says honestly. "I enabled a lot of your behavior with Penelope. I knew you were manipulating her but didn't speak up because I didn't want a pack drama. That makes me complicit.""You're speaking up now," I point out."Because she's gone and I don't have to worry about losing her friendship," Isla says. "Which is cowardly. I should have said something months ago.""Would I have listened?" I ask."Probably not," Isla admits. "But I should have tried."We sit in silence for a moment. Downstairs, the party continues. Music, laughter, the pack celebrating their strength."The pack's been asking about you," Isla says finally. "Wondering why you're not at the party.""Tell them I'm sick," I say. "Not feeling social.""Tell them yourself,"
Liam's POVThe whiskey tastes terrible but I pour another glass anyway, sitting alone in my apartment while the pack house buzzes with activity below. Someone's throwing a party, celebrating our latest hockey win. I should be down there, leading the celebration like a good Alpha heir.Instead, I'm up here, drinking and thinking about Penelope.My phone lights up with another news alert. Timothy Blackthorn's divorce finalized. Alpha Blackthorn removed from power. Investigation reveals multiple false accusations.I scroll through the article, seeing Penelope's name mentioned repeatedly. Her father's exoneration, her role in exposing the corruption, her completed mate bond with Timothy.I should be happy for her. She got everything she wanted—justice for her family, her true mate, respect from the pack.Instead, I just feel empty.A knock on my door interrupts my pity party. "Go away," I call out."Not a chance," Isla's voice comes through. "Open up, Liam. We need to talk."I consider ig
Penelope pov "Don't diminish it," my father says. "Standing up to an Alpha, especially your own father, takes strength most wolves don't have. Be proud of that."Timothy looks uncomfortable with the praise but nods."So what's the plan?" Daniel asks. "For the trial, I mean. How do we coordinate?""We'll each give our testimony," my father says. "Tell our stories honestly, completely. Show the pattern of false accusations, the systematic destruction of families who threatened his power.""The prosecutors will prep us," Rebecca adds. "They'll ask questions, guide the narrative. But the core story is ours.""And afterward?" James asks. "After the trial? What happens to the pack?""That depends on the outcome," Timothy says. "If my father's convicted, he'll go to prison. Ethan will likely remain as temporary Alpha until a proper challenge can be arranged.""Will you challenge?" Catherine asks. "You're the heir. The pack expects it.""I don't know," Timothy admits. "Part of me wants to. I
Penelope's POVThe Reed family's house is bigger than I expected, a sprawling ranch-style home on the outskirts of Frostfang territory. Cars fill the driveway when Timothy and I arrive—we're the last ones here."Are you ready for this?" Timothy asks, cutting the engine."Not really," I admit. "Meeting three families your father destroyed? Hearing their stories? That sounds awful.""It is awful," Timothy says, taking my hand. "But necessary. We need to stand together if we're going to take him down properly.""I know," I squeeze his hand. "Let's go."Catherine Reed opens the door before we can knock. She's a small woman in her fifties with kind eyes and graying hair pulled back in a bun."Timothy, Penelope," she says warmly. "Come in. Everyone's in the living room."We follow her inside. The living room is packed—my parents on one couch, a couple I don't recognize on another, and three more people in chairs. All eyes turn to us when we enter."Everyone," Catherine says. "This is Timoth
Timothy pov "Son of a bitch," I breathe, taking the report from her. The evidence is right there in black and white—forged signatures, planted evidence, paid witnesses. "He destroyed all those families?""Systematically," Mr Hale says, his voice hard. "Over fifteen years. We weren't the first and we weren't the last. He just got better at covering his tracks.""This changes everything," I say, my mind racing. "It's not just embezzlement anymore. It's conspiracy, fraud, abuse of power on a massive scale.""Which means stronger charges," Penelope says. "Longer prison time. And now more families have reasons to want him gone.""The pack can't ignore this," Marina adds. "Even his loyalists will have trouble defending multiple frame-ups. One family, they can write off as political maneuvering. Four families is a pattern of corruption.""We need to reach out," I say, already planning. "Contact the other families, unite them. Present a united front against him.""Already done," Mr Hale says
Timothy's POVThe divorce papers feel heavier than they should when I pick them up from my lawyer's office. Three weeks of negotiations, arguments, and threats from the Wintermoon brothers, all condensed into twenty pages of legal language that end my marriage."You're sure about this?" James Carr asks from behind his desk. He's been our family lawyer for twenty years, knew me when I was a kid. "Once you sign, there's no going back.""I've never been more sure of anything," I say, grabbing the pen he offers. "Where do I sign?"He shows me. I sign my name six times, each signature feeling like breaking chains. When I finish, I push the papers back across the desk."Done," I say. "Now what?""Now we file with the court," James says, organizing the pages. "Sophia already signed her copy. Since it's uncontested, the judge should approve it within the week. Then you're officially divorced.""Good," I lean back in the chair. "What about the Wintermoon brothers? Can they still cause problems







