Chapter Three: The Best Friend
1180 Words
Lola dialed.
“It’s done,” she whispered. “He’s going to be Alpha. It’s moving faster than we thought.”
A gravelly voice responded on the other end. “Stay close. We’re almost ready.”
She hung up and looked up at the stars, her face bathed in moonlight. Her smirk twisted.
Years ago, she’d picked the perfect night. When Alpha Marcus was away. When Ruby and Gina were unguarded, escorting pups to the safe house. She’d seduced the warrior on duty, drugged him, and let the rogues slip through the cracks.
Ruby took an arrow to the side, laced with wolfsbane. She’d fought, bled, and screamed as the rogues tore her apart. Gina had tried to save her—she died beside her best friend.
All because of Lola.
And yet, no one ever suspected.
Clover’s rise to power had ruined everything. But not for long.
Now the pieces were moving. Ronan was weak. Easy to manipulate. And Lola?
She wanted power.
And this time, she would take it.
———
Same night - The Packhouse Kitchen
Clover stood at the kitchen counter, water bottle in hand, her muscles aching, her mind sharp and unsettled. The session with Ryker had left her physically drained, but her thoughts spun like a storm in her skull. That feeling—being watched—still clung to her like static on skin.
She couldn’t shake it.
The kitchen light flicked on behind her with a soft click.
Clover turned, just a little too fast.
“Can’t sleep either?” Lola asked, her voice syrupy-smooth as always. She stepped inside barefoot, wrapped in a pale pink silk robe that barely grazed her thighs. Her dark curls spilled over one shoulder, her smile warm, familiar.
Too familiar.
Clover forced a smile back. “No. Training high.”
Lola padded over to the cabinets like she owned the space. “Thought I’d make tea. Like old times.”
Old times.
That stirred something in Clover. Something bittersweet.
They’d been ten when Lola arrived—skinny, quiet, clinging to her mother’s hand like she was afraid the world might eat her whole. The daughter of a low-ranked omega and a battle-worn warrior who’d just transferred into their pack after rogue attacks decimated their last one.
Clover had introduced herself with her usual fire—no fear, no hesitation. “You wanna play tag?” she’d asked. And from that moment on, they were inseparable.
Movie nights, birthday sleepovers, late-night ice cream raids, skipping class to train in the woods. They shared secrets like treasure, laughed until they couldn’t breathe, cried into each other’s shoulders when the world got too heavy. When Ruby died, Lola was the only one who could talk to Clover without breaking her.
She was the sister Clover never had.
And she still loved her like one. Still defended her, no matter what.
Even when Lola changed.
It started small—more makeup, tighter clothes, skipping school to sneak off with older wolves. She craved attention, and she got it. She wasn’t subtle about who she brought home. Clover could always tell—her wolf could always smell it. Male after male. Scents that clung to her like perfume.
Still, Clover never judged her. Not once.
But tonight, as Lola moved through the kitchen with a forced grace, something didn’t sit right.
Clover’s nose twitched. A scent.
Him.
Ronan.
He clung to her like smoke. Sweat. Skin. Clover’s stomach twisted.
“Were you… with Ronan tonight?” she asked, voice neutral but laced with something quieter. Sharper.
Lola froze—just a moment too long. Then she gave a soft laugh and rolled her eyes. “No. I bumped into him earlier in the hall. You know how he is—zero boundaries.”
But her voice had a tremble at the edge.
Clover stared, eyes narrowing.
She saw the faint red marks half-hidden at Lola’s collarbone, the tangled hair she hadn’t bothered to tame. The robe that didn’t match the way her body moved—too loose, too purposeful.
“Mm,” Clover said softly. “Right.”
She didn’t push it. She didn’t need to.
But she didn’t believe it, either.
They sat at the kitchen island, steam curling from their untouched tea. Lola smiled. Talked about nothing. Tried too hard.
And Clover just watched her.
She wanted to believe her. She needed to. But the scent was too strong, the lie too smooth, and Akira growled low in the back of her mind.
Something’s wrong.
When Lola finally stood to leave, brushing a hand gently over Clover’s shoulder, she said, “Get some rest, okay? Don’t let the bastards win.”
“Yeah. You too.”
Clover waited until she was gone. Then she stood, picked up the mug Lola had poured for her, and poured the tea into the sink.
She didn’t know why. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe it was just the training. The stress. The fear.
But tonight, something had changed.
And Clover had learned long ago to trust her instincts.
⸻
Lola – Later That Night
She walked down the hall with a sway in her hips, her robe fluttering behind her like smoke. Her body still buzzed from Ronan—sweat-slicked skin, rough hands, his voice panting her name like she was a drug he couldn’t quit.
She hated that he thought he had control.
He didn’t.
She stopped by her bedroom, pressing her hand to the door but not opening it. Not yet.
Instead, she stared out the window at the moon hanging low over the trees. Her reflection stared back at her—a face full of softness, big eyes, perfect curves.
But she knew the truth.
She remembered being ten. Afraid. Lost. Clover had been the sun—bright, warm, unshakable.
She was everything.
And that only got worse with time.
Clover was beautiful—fire-red hair, fierce eyes, Alpha blood in her veins. People loved her. Warriors respected her. Teachers praised her. Even when she broke rules, she got away with it. Even when she failed, others picked her back up.
And Lola… she was always next to her.
“Clover’s friend.”
“Clover’s shadow.”
“Clover’s less pretty, less smart, more desperate twin.”
They never said it out loud, but she heard it in their tones. The way their eyes lingered on Clover first. The way the boys looked right through her.
So she made them look.
She bled for attention. Seduced it. Took it from anyone willing to give. They whispered about her behind closed doors—called her a slut, a desperate she-wolf, the one who never said no.
But still… Clover stood by her. Never judged her. Never pulled away.
And somehow that made it worse.
Because Clover still pitied her.
Lola gritted her teeth.
She didn’t want pity.
She wanted power.
She wanted respect.
And now, with Ronan rising, and Marcus softening under her mother’s touch, the plan was finally working.
Clover could keep her loyalty.
Lola would take everything else.
- Writer
