The Rejected Luna’s Secret Heir

The Rival’s Glance

Wren’s POV

The windows of cabin four were warped and covered in grime, but they gave me a clear view of the clearing. The three black trucks from the Blackwood Pack parked in a neat row right outside the administrative shack. Their golden pinecone logos seemed to catch what little light remained in the dark forest.

I stood by the iron stove, pretending to adjust the wood intake while my attention stayed locked on the men stepping out into the mud.

The door of the lead truck opened. A man stepped out, and the entire energy of the border camp shifted instantly. He did not look like the Ashvane wolves. He was broad shoulders and wore a rugged waxed canvas jacket over a flannel shirt, looking more like a real lumberjack than a corporate tycoon.

It was Alpha Kaelen Vance.

He shook his golden brown hair out of his eyes and stood completely still, his amber eyes scanning our border lines with a calm, heavy presence. He did not use fear to command his men. He simply gestured with a leather gloved hand, and his team immediately moved to unload heavy maps and land survey equipment from the back of the trucks.

He is strong, my wolf murmured, her ears perking up in my mind. Not like our Alpha. He feels like deep earth and old stone.

“Get away from the window, Wren,” Valerie snapped, kicking the cabin door open without knocking. She held a stack of plastic clipboards against her chest, her face red from the cold air. “The Blackwoods brought their own security detail, and the last thing we need is an Omega servant staring at them like a freak. Go fetch the water thermoses from the supply shed and bring them to the negotiation tent.”

I stepped away from the glass, picking up my coat. “Are the night guards already there?”

“Jaxon just arrived with the King’s personal security,” Valerie said, her voice turning smug as she adjusted her blonde hair in the reflection of a dark window pane. “Rurik will be down here in an hour. If you do not want him to lock you in a real cage, you better finish your tasks and get back inside this shack before his car pulls up.”

She did not wait for my response before turning on her heel and marching toward the main tent.

I walked out the back door of the cabin, taking the long way around the woodpile to avoid the main path. The air was freezing now, and the thick fog clung to my eyelashes. I reached the supply shed, grabbed the heavy metal thermoses of hot tea and water, and carried them toward the large canvas tent set up on the neutral boundary line.

The flap of the tent was pinned open to let the heat from the portable heaters circulate. As I approached, I could hear the deep, rumbling voices of the men inside.

“The treaty from ten years ago clearly states the eastern ridge belongs to the Blackwood logging sectors,” Kaelen Vance was saying, his voice smooth but unyielding.

“The ridge changed parameters after the last landslide, Vance,” Jaxon countered, his dark eyes fixed on a map spread across a folding table. He tapped his finger against the paper. “The Ashvanes control the shipping access below that slope.”

I stepped into the tent, keeping my eyes glued to the muddy floorboards as I walked over to the side table to set down the thermoses. I kept my breathing shallow, trying to blend into the canvas walls so no one would notice my presence.

Suddenly, the conversation stopped dead.

The air in the tent grew incredibly heavy. A sudden, sharp scent of crisp pine and autumn air cut through the smell of damp canvas and coffee. I could feel a pair of eyes burning into the side of my face, heavy and intense.

I could not help it. I looked up.

Alpha Kaelen Vance was staring directly at me. He had stopped mid sentence, his large hand freezing over the corner of the map. His amber eyes were wide, blinking slowly as his nostrils flared, taking in my scent. He did not look at me with the disgust or indifference I was used to from high ranking wolves. His gaze was searching, lingering on my face and dropping down to the collar of my shirt where my skin was completely bare.

Jaxon cleared his throat loudly, his posture turning rigid as his hand moved toward the radio on his tactical vest. He stepped directly between Kaelen and me, blocking the Alpha's view.

“Is there a problem with the border numbers, Alpha Vance?” Jaxon asked, his voice dripping with low, dangerous warning.

Kaelen took a slow, deliberate breath, his fingers tightening around the edge of the wooden table until the joints popped. He slowly tore his gaze away from the spot where I stood, looking back down at the map, though his jaw remained completely clenched.

“No problem,” Kaelen said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding rough and strained. “The numbers are fine. We will take a fifteen minute break before the King arrives.”

Jaxon snapped his head toward me, his dark eyes flashing with a mix of panic and anger. “Wren. You are done here. Get back to your cabin. Now.”

I did not wait a second. I turned and practically bolted out of the tent, the metal handles of the thermoses rattling behind me. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst through my ribs. Kaelen Vance had looked at me like he knew exactly who I was, or worse, like he saw something in me that I did not even know was there.

I ran past the woodpile, my sneakers slipping in the deep mud as I made a mad dash for cabin four.

The moment I reached the porch, the sharp, deafening sound of a horn blew from the main entrance of the camp. The heavy iron gates swung open, and the midnight black SUV of Alpha King Rurik Ashvane tore through the fog, its headlights cutting through the dark like two angry silver eyes.

Rurik was here. And the air in the camp was already turning into fire.