Chapter 3

I dragged Alpha Victor onto the bed in the master bedroom, not even bothering to take off his boots or coat. Without a word, I turned and walked straight into the guest room next door.

The night had not yet faded, but my mind was already haunted by memories of his so-called “affection” over the years.

There was a time when he would gaze at me under the morning light, wrapping me in the intense gaze of an Alpha. He’d lean down, kiss my forehead, and whisper with a voice as gentle as the night wind, “I shouldn’t have ignored you last night. I drank too much—it was my fault. Will you forgive me?”

Back then, when he said those things, it felt like he was promising me the whole universe. But now, all those tender moments felt like cruel jokes.

In the morning, sunlight spilled into the dining hall. The table was laid with a lavish wolf pack breakfast—sausages, honeyed fruit wine, forest mushroom pie... all Bianca’s favorites.

I didn’t take a single bite.

The doorbell rang. She walked in, bathed in morning light, wearing a couture cloak gown and that signature fake-sincere smile on her face—as if she were the true mistress of this manor.

“Sharon, sorry to drop by unannounced,” she said sweetly, as if we were the dearest of sisters. “I have a meeting with the Northern healers today. Alpha said it’d be more convenient to have breakfast here.”

In her hand, she held a silver access pass—the highest-level Alpha authority permit. Identical to the one I had.

Alpha Victor sensed the shift in the air and immediately came over, his voice calm and low. “Bianca was appointed as an advisor by my father before he passed. She’s been a regular guest here long before I became Alpha.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking before he took a cup of black coffee from her hand, his expression tense.

“You have low blood pressure. You shouldn’t be drinking this,” he scolded softly. “You’ve always been careless like that.”

She laughed, light and sweet like wind chimes in the woods. “Good to know you still remember.”

They locked eyes. The air froze.

I stood up to leave, but her voice stopped me. “Sharon, I need someone to precisely document the restoration of the Southern border corpses today. I want you to handle the visual records. I don’t trust that new Omega pathologist.”

My body stiffened.

I hadn’t touched a camera in years. After my father was falsely accused of betraying the pack and sent on a suicide mission, I personally filmed the last footage of him—dying in the flames, his charred claws still gripping the emblem of wolf loyalty.

Since then, I’d never held a camera again.

Alpha Victor knew that. He once promised he’d never make me go back behind the lens unless I was ready. But now, he merely gave the cold command:

“Sharon, sit in the back. Bianca gets carsick, you know that.”

He’d forgotten—I was the one with severe motion sickness since childhood, but never once complained. Years on the run had taught me how to endure.

The bumpy ride made me nauseous. When we arrived at the Southern morgue, he personally helped Bianca suit up in isolation gear, whispering precautions to her. I stood off to the side, clutching my stomach, dry heaving.

“Go on in, Sharon,” Alpha Victor said, his tone like an order. “This footage is crucial for the alliance’s credibility.”

He pushed me through the door. The heavy camera rig nearly slipped from my hands.

Five years without touching a lens—fear and trauma clung to me like chains. But I forced myself to calm down, frame by frame capturing the torn bodies, the scorched marks, the scattered claw prints.

Alpha Victor left halfway through, leaving only Bianca and me.

She walked over and gave my footage a quick glance, her voice dripping with scorn. “Not bad… for a traitor’s daughter.”

I looked up and met her gaze.

Her lips curled into a smirk, revealing the malice beneath her mask. “You think you can hide forever? Your father infiltrated the Wolf Council and stole bloodline data, almost wiping out my entire family. You think we’d forget?”

She stepped closer, eyes sharp as knives.

“An Omega like you—with filthy blood—isn’t fit to be an Alpha’s Luna.”

Smack.

Her slap sent my head sideways. My ears rang, and my eyes burned from the sting.

But I didn’t cry. I didn’t back down.

I straightened up, staring at her as a cold smile slowly spread across my lips—frostbitten and unforgiving.