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Five years ago, I was the fated mate of Alpha Dale Hood, destined to be the Luna of his pack. But the moment his mistress, Chelsie, faked a miscarriage and pointed her finger at me, he didn't hesitate to brand me a vicious schemer. Ignoring our mate bond, he banished me into a freezing canyon blizzard to die. He didn't know I was already twenty weeks pregnant with his twin pups. I barely survived the freezing snow and a deadly fire, forced to hide my identity and raise my children in the shadows. Meanwhile, he pampered the woman who ruined my life, and I discovered my own family had secretly murdered my mother. I used to cry in the dark, wondering how my fated mate could be so blind, and why everyone I trusted wanted me dead. But the tears eventually dried up, leaving nothing but cold hatred. Five years later, I returned not as a weak Omega, but as the continent's top Divine Healer. When Dale brought his "dying" Chelsie to my clinic and ordered me to save her, I pulled out a silver needle with a cold smirk. "I can wake her up right now, but you're going to watch her true colors burn." This time, I would expose her fake illness to the world and tear their pack apart piece by piece.
Contents
Hiding The Cruel Alpha's Twin Pups Chapter 1
Kayla Hendrix POV:
"Get her out of my sight. Into the canyon. If the blizzard takes her, so much the better."
Alpha Dale Hood's voice cracked across the great hall like a whip-my fated mate, the man who had once traced my face with such gentleness. Behind him sat the elders of Hood Pack. Below them, my father's Peterson Pack watched in silence.
"You are a wolfless nothing who crawled into my bed on a schemer's smile."
The great hall reeked of copper and lies. Chelsie Harrell-my stepsister-lay sprawled across the flagstones, skirts pooled around her, a vivid crimson blooming between her thighs. "My pup-she kicked me, Dale! Kayla shoved me down the stairs!" Her sob rang clean and practiced across the hall.
Indiana Gamble stood behind her stepdaughter, one hand resting on the back of Chelsie's chair, her face arranged into a mask of motherly grief. My father Erasmo's second wife. The woman who had slid into my mother's place before my mother's body was even cold. And now her stepdaughter was about to slide into mine.
I opened my mouth. "I was nowhere near the west stair-"
I was twelve weeks along. I had my own child-how could I have harmed hers?
Indiana's people had spent months spreading whispers that I was barren and grasping; the Pack Physician Gavin had signed Chelsie's forged pregnancy ledger that very morning; a kitchen maid, bought and rehearsed, swore she'd seen me near the stairs. My own whereabouts had been scrubbed from the guard log before I could speak.
I tried once more. "Dale. Listen to me."
But he had already turned his shoulder, refusing to hear me. Hands seized my arms and hauled me off my feet. They dragged me through the snow with nothing but the coat on my back and hurled me through the keep doors like a rag they'd finished with, and the canyon blizzard caught me on the other side.
Snow drove into my face in solid sheets. I went to my knees in the drift, the borrowed coat useless against the cold, and for a long moment I simply stayed where they'd dropped me. I tipped my face to the sky. Snowflakes drifted down out of a dead-black night, endless and weightless, each one a small indifferent thing that would be gone by morning.
More than five years later, the snow was still falling.
I stood at the second-floor window of the Healing Sanctuary, my fingers curled into tight fists on the metal tray, clattering the surgical clamps. I lunged forward and shoved the half-closed blinds open. The rusty metal slats screeched against each other, letting a blast of winter wind sweep into the second-floor office of the Healing Sanctuary.
Looking down into the courtyard, my breath caught in my throat. A black bulletproof SUV sat by the curb, its door stamped with the silver-rimmed black wolf crest of the Hood Pack.
My pulse kicked. The Hood Pack. Of course. Both of my hands twisted into the hem of my white coat so hard my knuckles turned white.
An invisible hand seemed to squeeze my heart until my ribs ached. I sucked in a slow, freezing breath, severing that phantom mate-bond ache, and rubbed my temples until the calm of a Divine Healer settled back into my bones.
Shouts broke out in the courtyard below. I stepped back to the window, looking past the bare tree branches to the center of the lawn.
My four-and-a-half-year-old son, Jamir, stood with his small arms spread wide like a young guard wolf, shielding a bleeding stray hound on the mud.
Sharp heels clicked against the pavement. A shrill, sugary voice cut through the cold air-and my spine went rigid a half-second before my brain caught up. More than five years of burying it, and one syllable was enough to send my pulse skittering sideways. Chelsie. My father's stepdaughter. The woman who'd used a faked miscarriage to take my place in Hood Pack.
"Throw this filthy thing out of my sight!"
Chelsie Harrell pinched her nose in disgust and raised her pointed heel, kicking straight at the dying hound's belly.
Jamir let out a fierce growl. Moving with a blur of speed only pure Alpha blood could grant, his small body slammed into Chelsie's calf and knocked her kick off course.
Chelsie lost her footing and stumbled backward several steps through the mud. Her painted face twisted with rage as she barely kept herself from falling.
She raised her hand, a vicious glint in her eyes that no weak Omega should ever possess, and swung her palm straight toward Jamir's cheek.
My pupils shrank. My fingers gripped the cold window ledge, muscles tensing to leap from the second floor and tear her throat out.
Before I could jump, a wide, calloused hand with a familiar faded scar across the knuckles reached out and caught Chelsie's wrist in mid-air.
A deep voice heavy with suffocating Alpha dominance rolled across the courtyard.
"Enough, Chelsie. Remember who you are."
My whole body locked up-a jolt straight through the ribs, the kind you feel a beat before you know why. That voice. Lower now, rougher at the edges, but it hooked into the oldest part of me the way nothing else ever had. I'd have known that timbre blind, bound, and buried.
Even across more than five years and two stories of brick, Dale's cedar-and-rain scent hit my nostrils like a heavy wave, making my stomach clench. A traitorous tingle sparked at the nape of my neck-the old mate-bond flare I had sworn was dead-before I crushed it beneath my heel.
Chelsie dropped her hand and leaned toward his chest, her eyes reddening as her voice trembled.
"Dale, this wild brat ruined my dress..."
Dale stepped sideways, his shoulders stiffening as he avoided her touch. His dark gray eyes swept past the bleeding dog and locked onto Jamir's stubborn face.
"Move aside, kid," Dale said, looking down at him.
A heavy wave of Alpha's Command pulsed from Dale's body. In werewolf society, genetics dictate rank from birth, and no lower-ranked wolf can resist their Alpha's Command.
Around them, the sanctuary nurses and low-ranking orderlies gasped, their knees buckling as the invisible weight forced their backs to bend.
Yet Jamir bit his lower lip, his deep golden eyes flashing with fierce defiance as he kept his small spine straight and didn't budge an inch.
Dale's brows twitched, his gray eyes widening slightly at the boy who was completely immune to his supreme genetic pressure.
"I said, don't touch it!" Jamir shouted.
Underneath his childish voice rumbled a faint, unmistakable Dire Wolf roar that made the loose gravel around his boots vibrate.
Down below, Dale pressed a hand against his chest, his jaw tightening as if his inner wolf had just stirred in his skull.
He took a sharp step forward, squinting to get a closer look at Jamir's face, while my son backed up half a pace to cover the dog.
I couldn't watch another second. Spinning around, I grabbed the first-aid kit off my desk, kicked the office door open, and strode toward the stairs.
As the hallway draft whipped my white coat around my legs, I pulled a vial of evening primrose extract from my pocket and sprayed it over my neck.
The bitter herbal mist drowned out my natural White Wolf scent-the only thing keeping my identity hidden from the mate bond.
I marched down the stairs, each step steady and cold, and shoved the first-floor double doors open into the courtyard air.
"Step away from my son, Alpha Hood."
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