The Beta Who Betrayed Her Pack For the Enemy Alpha

Chapter 3 – Poison in the Beta’s House

The hallways of the Beta wing were dark and quiet by the time I slipped out of my room.

Mistveil slept the way only a pack could—lightly, instinctively, with half its senses still turned toward the forest. Every creak of the old wooden floors sounded like it echoed for miles. Every shadow felt like eyes.

My parents’ door was at the far end of the corridor. The same brass handle. The same family crest carved above it—two wolves back to back, watching opposite horizons.

In my first life, I’d walked past that door a hundred times and never wondered what was in my father’s medicine cabinet.

This time, I did.

My wolf padded at the edges of my mind, ears pricked. Quiet, I told her, fingers brushing the wall as I moved. We can’t wake them.

A thin strip of light glowed beneath the door. Mother never liked to sleep in complete darkness.

I knocked once, softly.

“Come in,” she called, voice hushed but alert. She always woke at the first hint of movement. Motherhood did that, she said.

I pushed the door open.

The room smelled of lavender and old paper and the faint, bitter tang of herbs. My father lay on the bed, propped up against pillows, an open folder of patrol reports on his lap. He looked older than fifty—lines carved deep, silver at his temples more pronounced than I remembered from six months before my first death.

“Lyris?” Mother stood from her chair, shawl wrapped tight around her shoulders. “It’s late. You should be sleeping.”

“Couldn’t.” I tried to smile. My heart was racing. “I… needed to talk.”

Father’s gaze sharpened. “About tonight?”

“About you,” I said, and saw something flicker in his eyes.

Mother frowned. “I’m fine, sweetling. Nothing to worry your head about. Your father’s just tired. Too many council meetings.”

“Ma,” I said gently, “you said that a year ago. And the year before that.”

She pressed her lips together. “Sit, then. But be quick.”

I perched on the edge of the bed, close enough to smell the stale sweat on Father’s skin. Beneath the lavender and soap was that same faint bitter note that had haunted the infirmary in my last hours.

“Are you in pain?” I asked.

His mouth twitched. “More than I admit. Less than your mother thinks.”

“Darius Greyfang,” she snapped softly. “You’re not impressing anyone by pretending your joints aren’t on fire.”

He huffed a laugh. It turned into a cough halfway through. Mother poured water from the bedside jug and handed it to him.

I watched her hand reach for the tray.

Three small glass bottles sat there, their contents catching the lamplight—amber, pale green, cloudy white. Labels in Eryx’s tidy handwriting.

Same shapes. Same order.

My stomach flipped.

“I’ll make you another dose,” Mother said, fingers already closing around the pale green bottle. “You shouldn’t have been reading reports—”

“Wait,” I blurted.

She froze. “Lyris.”

“I—” I swallowed. My pulse hammered in my throat. “Can I… see those? I’ve been helping in the infirmary. Eryx showed me some new combinations. I want to understand what you’re taking.”

Mother’s eyes softened for a moment. “Always the Beta, hmm? All right.” She set the bottle back down with a clink. “Look, if it eases your mind.”

Father watched me over the rim of his glass, gaze thoughtful.

I picked up the pale green bottle first. Unscrewed the cap. The scent rose sharp and familiar—pain herbs, something for inflammation, a touch of sedative.

And underneath, barely there, a metallic bitterness that made my wolf recoil.

In my first life, I hadn’t noticed it until it flooded my lungs.

Now it rolled over my tongue like a ghost.

“Lyris?” Mother’s voice held a warning. “What are you smelling for, exactly?”

“Just… curious.” I forced a shrug. “Eryx said he adjusted some dosages recently. I wanted to see.”

I glanced at the label. Evening blend. Two spoons before bed. No ingredients listed, just Eryx’s initials.

I set it down. My fingers were cold.

The second bottle—amber—smelled like standard heart tonic. The third, cloudy white, like a mild sleeping draught.

Only one carried that hidden bite.

“Do they all come from the infirmary?” I asked, too casual.

“Of course,” Mother said. “Where else would they come from? Eryx has been a blessing.” Her gaze softened. “Taking such good care of your father. Of all of us.”

My father’s eyes stayed on me. “You think otherwise.”

It wasn’t a question.

I met his gaze. The tremor in his hand was more noticeable now, the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth even when he was still.

“How long have you been taking this one?” I tapped the pale green bottle.

Mother frowned. “Months. It helps with the stiffness. Why?”

“Because it smells wrong,” I wanted to say. Because I died with that taste in my mouth and Eryx’s voice in my ear.

Instead, I swallowed the words.

“If it’s been months and you’re not better…” I began slowly, “maybe it’s time to stop and see what happens. Just for a few days. See what your body does without it.”

Mother’s posture went rigid. “You are not a healer, Lyris.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not. But I am the daughter of the man taking this, and I have eyes.”

“You’re tired,” she snapped. “Tonight rattled you. We’ll speak with Eryx in the morning—”

“Or,” I cut in, “we could not tell Eryx anything yet. We could quietly skip one dose and see if Father collapses without it. If he does, I’ll apologize and never question you again. If he doesn’t…”

My wolf rumbled softly. If he doesn’t, we know.

Father’s lips twitched. “You sound like your grandfather,” he murmured. “Always wanting to test a theory yourself.”

Mother turned to him. “Darius, you can’t be considering—”

He raised a hand. The Beta command in his voice had faded in council, but here, it was still there.

“Maera.” His gaze didn’t leave mine. “Let her. One night without won’t kill me.”

Won’t kill you. Not like it killed me.

Mother looked between us, jaw clenched, then exhaled sharply. “Fine. One night. But if your pain spikes—”

“You can scold me until my ears fall off,” he said, the ghost of a smile touching his mouth.

She muttered something about stubborn fools and went to tidy the other bottles.

My fingers moved before my brain could catch up.

As she turned, I palmed the pale green bottle, slid it into the deep pocket of my robe, and set an identical empty bottle from the tray of used glassware in its place, filling it halfway with plain water from the jug.

My heart pounded so loud I was sure they could hear it. My wolf held her breath with me.

Mother turned back, picked up the swapped bottle without looking too closely, and set it aside on the tray.

One night.

One test.

“Go sleep, little wolf,” Father said, leaning back against the pillows. “We’ll see how many of your ghosts survive the morning light.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “We will.”

I kissed his cheek, hugged Mother, and slipped out.

The corridor felt longer on the way back. Colder.

Halfway to my room, I stopped dead.

Soft footsteps, too light for a warrior, padded away down the far end of the hallway. Someone small. Someone quick.

A faint trace of scent hung in the air—lavender soap and antiseptic herbs.

Eryx.

He shouldn’t have been anywhere near the Beta wing at this hour.

My skin prickled.

I closed my eyes, drew in another breath, letting my wolf sort through the layers.

Lavender.

Herbs.

And underneath, the sour metallic bite I was starting to recognize.

He’d been here.

Listening.

Watching.

And this time, I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.