Chapter Eigth: Lies, scents and shadows
1076 Words
Liliana’s heels clicked sharply against the stone floor of the packhouse as she stormed into Alpha Marcus’s office. Her expression was twisted with rage. “She’s gone,” she hissed. “Gone, Marcus. And she didn’t go alone.”
Alpha Marcus didn’t respond immediately. He was staring at the window, hands clasped behind his back. “How?”
“Beta Michael,” she spat. “Or her uncle. Or both. I don’t know how yet—but they helped her.”
Alpha Marcus turned slowly, the lines of fatigue carved deeper into his face. “Interrogate him.”
Liliana grinned. “Already have. He denied everything, of course. Loyal little mutt. But I know he’s involved. He’ll slip.”
Marcus sighed and returned to his seat. Liliana watched him with narrowed eyes. He was less responsive lately, less fiery. Ever since Clover escaped, something had shifted. Even his wolf—usually dominant and fierce—seemed eerily quiet. But Liliana wasn’t about to let him slip out of her control now. Not when she was so close to winning.
Lola, meanwhile, was on cloud nine.
When she’d overheard the news of Clover’s escape, she laughed. “Finally,” she whispered to herself. “The little princess is gone.”
It had been so easy to twist the story. Word spread fast—Clover attacked Ronan out of jealousy, tried to kill him, couldn’t accept not being chosen. Liliana fed the rumors, Lola fanned the flames. Soon enough, pack members who once admired Clover were whispering behind closed doors, slowly turning against her memory.
Lola watched as Liliana made her next move, calling the rogue Alpha from her office late at night. “She’s gone,” Liliana reported. “The girl is gone.”
“Good,” the rogue Alpha said, his voice low and rumbling. “Now watch the Alpha’s mate closely. She might be… useful.”
“I will,” Liliana replied with a dark smile and hung up.
The rogue Alpha took a slow sip of his wine, his eyes flicking to the mysterious woman who appeared behind him. She approached silently and kissed him passionately. “Not long now,” she murmured. “We’ll get the pack, then move on to the others.”
Back at the pack, news spread of a visiting Beta from a neighboring territory—Ashton, second-in-command of the Silver Mist Pack. Tall, lean, and deadly, with dark blonde hair and intense eyes, Ashton was respected among his pack. Loyal, disciplined, and patient, he had waited nearly seven years to find his mate. But duty had always come first. His alpha brother, Carter, encouraged him to travel—saying it was time to think about himself.
“Find her,” Carter had said with a playful punch to his arm. “Before I have to assign a dating schedule.”
That was how Ashton found himself touring a pack that didn’t sit right with him.
The moment he crossed the border, his wolf, Ambrose, had stirred uncomfortably.
Something was… off.
He didn’t sense the unity packs usually radiated. The pack members seemed unusually quiet, withdrawn. The pups avoided their Alpha’s gaze like he was a monster. Ashton noticed—but told himself it wasn’t his place to interfere.
Then came the awkward moment when Liliana—the Alpha’s wife—tried to flirt with him.
It made his skin crawl.
She showed him around, batting her lashes, brushing against him. Ashton kept his responses neutral, polite but distant. He wasn’t here for her. He was here for her—his mate. The one his wolf longed for. The one he still hadn’t found.
He was beginning to think this trip was a waste of time. That is, until he passed the packhouse trash bins and caught a scent.
He froze.
That smell—divine. Sweet, wild, powerful. It curled around his senses, making Ambrose stir suddenly with a low, eager growl.
Mate.
Ashton dropped to his knees and began digging through the bags, not even realizing how insane he looked. He tore one open—and there it was. A worn hoodie, clearly a woman’s. Her scent clung to it.
Someone had thrown it away.
Lola, watching from a distance, narrowed her eyes. She knew that scent. Clover. The realization hit like a slap. Ashton was her mate.
And now, she wanted him more than ever.
Ashton, breathless and shaken, brought the hoodie to Alpha Marcus.
“Who did this belong to?” he asked.
Marcus looked like he was about to answer, but Liliana stepped in smoothly. “A runaway slave,” she said with a cold smile. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
Something wasn’t right. Ambrose knew it. Ashton knew it. But no one else would speak to him about it.
He spent the rest of the evening frustrated, anxious, obsessively holding the hoodie and breathing it in like it was the only thing grounding him.
Then came the knock.
He opened the door to find Lola, dressed like sin itself, offering a plate of cookies and an apology.
“Just wanted to make peace,” she said sweetly. “Can I come in?”
Against his better judgment, Ashton let her in. They sat, chatted—awkward but cordial. He took a bite of a cookie to be polite.
Big mistake.
Within minutes, his vision blurred, his body heated up unnaturally. His thoughts slowed, his self-control shattered.
Lola’s voice whispered, lips brushed his jaw—and he couldn’t resist.
His wolf fought back, but whatever she gave him was strong. Too strong.
That night, Lola got what she wanted. Ashton was a puppet under her spell. She moaned his name and took photos of him afterward, lying dazed and shirtless, unaware of what had happened.
By morning, Ashton woke up confused, headache pounding. Ambrose was silent. He didn’t remember anything.
He staggered to the bathroom, rinsed off the shame he didn’t understand, dressed quickly—and held on to the hoodie like it was the only real thing left.
He had to leave. Now.
At breakfast, he told Alpha Marcus he was heading out.
“Didn’t find what you were looking for?” Marcus asked casually.
Ashton shook his head. “Not yet. But I will.”
Lola watched him from across the room, arms folded, lips curled into a smirk.
Let Clover come back.
She had a surprise waiting for her.
- Writer
