Earning the Beta's Doubt

[Alpha Ronan Thorne’s POV]

The steel of the listening device felt cold and useless in my hand. Alaric stood opposite my desk, his posture rigid, his face an angry mask of disappointment.

"A bug," Alaric muttered, his voice a low growl. "Inside her luggage. I searched that room myself, Alpha. She must have distracted the guards."

"Vesper is more meticulous than you give him credit for," I corrected, dropping the device back onto the dark wood. I knew exactly when and how the bug was planted, not by Anya, but by Vesper’s people after the initial security sweep, probably during the wedding dress transport. "And you missed it because you were looking for a bomb, not a gossip tool. It means the enemy is close, Alaric. Too close."

My frustration was immense, but I couldn't afford to show it. The entire pack's stability rested on my calculated stillness. I had spent three months perfecting the act of the crippled Alpha, using the very real, very small scar above my eye as the centerpiece of a grand lie. Now, Anya, a sudden, explosive variable, knew the truth.

"Anya is Vesper’s daughter, Alpha," Alaric pressed, his tone a dangerous mix of loyalty and doubt. "We are feeding this device false information, but she is right here, whole, listening to the real things we say. It’s a massive risk."

"It is a calculated risk," I corrected, meeting his gaze. "Anya is not motivated by money or power. She is motivated by survival and vengeance for her brother, Devon. That makes her predictable. Vesper’s betrayal has made her my most valuable tool."

I leaned back, my thoughts turning inward, reviewing the past. It was a cold truth: I had only ever allowed one woman into my absolute confidence, my first Luna and she had conspired with my enemies to seize my authority. The lesson was etched deep, colder than any steel: trust leads to ruin.

Yet, Anya was different. Her eyes, filled with fear for Devon but cold with resolve, hadn't flinched when she stood up to Vesper. Her quickness to analyze the Red River trade route proved she had the mind I needed. And her refusal to take the dagger in the study, a chance for a quick, bloody escape proved she valued alliance over simple murder. She was a fighter, not a puppet.

"We need to test her loyalty immediately," I stated, the decision firm. "If Vesper and Vorlag believe I am losing my mind, they will move on our assets. We need to reinforce that lie by giving her access to what she asked for."

I pushed the wheelchair back slightly, allowing myself a small, private stretch of my legs under the desk. "Go bring Anya Vesper to the main Financial Archives. Now."

Alaric's eyes widened slightly. The Archives were the core of the Crescent Pack’s economy, a massive, reinforced vault holding the ledgers that detailed every asset, every trade route, and every political debt. It was a room forbidden to everyone except the Alpha and Beta.

"Sir, with all respect, she is Vesper's blood. We can't let her see the value of our Northern Trade Pass! If she memorizes those routes, she can ruin us," Alaric protested.

"That is precisely the point," I stated, the strategy clear in my mind. "We need the spy and Vorlag to think that I am so debilitated, so mentally weak, that I am handing over my pack’s most vital secrets to an easily manipulated Luna."

I stood and walked around the desk, deliberately letting Alaric see my freedom of movement. "She will not see the documents alone. You will be there. You will watch every breath she takes, Alaric. And you will feed the bug in her locket exactly what the enemy needs to hear."

Alaric nodded, his loyalty overriding his fear. "Understood, Alpha. The security logs will show her entering a forbidden sector."

When Anya arrived, she was composed, dressed simply in a dark wool dress. I immediately sat back in the wheelchair and put on the mask, settling back into my crippling weakness.

We entered the Archives. The room was not ornate, but imposing. High stone walls, lit only by specialized lamps, surrounded shelves stacked with decades of heavy, leather-bound ledgers. The air was dry and smelled of old parchment and untold wealth.

I addressed her loudly, ensuring my voice carried the necessary despair for the spy to hear.

"Luna," I said, gesturing vaguely at the room. "My mind is failing me. I find I can no longer concentrate on the complex trade documents. The numbers... they confuse me." I made sure to let the mask tremble slightly.

Anya played her part perfectly, her silver eyes filling with feigned pity. "I understand, Alpha. It must be a terrible burden."

"It is, Luna. And it puts the entire pack at risk," I sighed dramatically. "Therefore, I have made a decision. Since you are now my Luna and since you seem to have a passing knowledge of simple trade matters, I want you to take over the most complex trade document analysis."

I pulled a massive ledger from the shelf and slapped it onto a nearby table. The sound echoed in the stone room.

"Alaric will oversee you," I announced to the room, ensuring the spy knew the Beta was still in charge. "But the pack ledger is yours. Keep my failing mind sharp, Luna. Tell me what I am losing, before I forget how to read."

Anya approached the ledger immediately. She didn't look at me with pity anymore; she looked at the document with hunger. This was her vengeance. This was Devon's lifeline.

Alaric watched her like a hawk, his body tense. He knew this move was designed to bait Vorlag, but it was also designed to test Anya's fundamental character. If she saw a weakness in the pack's wealth, would she exploit it for her father's political gain? It was a true Alpha's test: give the enemy a weapon and see if they fire it back at you.

We stayed there for an hour. Anya worked, her concentration absolute, her pencil marking subtle inconsistencies in the complex shipping records. I dictated to Alaric, discussing a fictional emergency asset transfer, the "Blackwood accounts" using vague, panicked language for the benefit of the listening device I knew she was currently scrambling with her locket.

Finally, the session ended. I allowed Alaric to wheel me out, my posture slumped, playing the part of the defeated Alpha perfectly.

As we moved through the corridor, Alaric lowered his voice to a whisper, his breath tight with frustration.

"Sir," he pleaded. "I do not trust her. She's Vesper's blood. She is brilliant; I saw her eyes. If she sees the true value of the trade routes and the Northern Pass, she can ruin us."

We stopped just outside the main drawing room. I didn't immediately answer. I looked back, watching Anya through the closing crack of the heavy double doors. She was still standing over the ledger, not looking for escape routes, not looking for jewelry, but focused entirely on the work. Her expression was one of cold, focused fury, ready to dismantle the pack that betrayed her.

I met Alaric's worried gaze and gave him a harsh, cold answer. "Then we’ll see if she chooses blood or survival, Alaric. She has the tools now. I need to know which side she's truly on."

I knew this was the only way to find out. By giving her power, I was forcing her to reveal her loyalty. And if she chose wrong, I would be waiting.