POV Blake
You'd think coming clean about the whole "I'm actually the dead twin" thing would make life simpler.
Spoiler alert: it fucking doesn't.
It's been four days since my dramatic wolf debut, and I'm juggling more secrets than a CIA operative with commitment issues.
The inner circle knows I'm Blake—Matthias (mate/husband/very enthusiastic supporter of my continued existence), Sage Helen (the Alpha’s mom/keeper of healing tea), and Zack (recently inducted Beta/frog incident witness).
What they don't know? That their Luna is also a part-time intelligence asset feeding information to enemy packs.
"You're brooding again," Matthias observes from his desk, where he's reviewing security protocols for my parents' visit in three days.
"I don't brood. I contemplate with style."
"You're making your guilty face."
"This is just my face."
"Your guilty face," he insists, pulling me into his lap because apparently we're that couple now. "What's wrong?"
Everything.
I was sent as a spy. I've betrayed your pack. My parents are coming to collect their investment.
"Just nervous about seeing them," I say instead, which isn't technically a lie.
I'm nervous like people are nervous about root canals—anticipating pain with medical certainty.
He nuzzles my neck, and the bond practically purrs. "We've got three days to perfect security. They can't hurt you here."
Physical hurt? Probably not.
Emotional destruction and blackmail? That's their specialty.
"I need a shower," I announced suddenly. "Training made me gross."
It's a weak excuse, ‘cause I trained hours ago, but Matthias just kisses my temple. "Want company?"
"Tempting, but I need to mentally prepare for another strategy session with Zack." I force a smile. "You know how he gets about his flowcharts."
He laughs, letting me go. "Don't let him break out the color-coding system."
The bathroom door locks with a soft click that sounds like guilt. I turn on the shower, then kneel beside the toilet, prying up the loose tile I discovered my first week here.
The burner phone sits there like an accusation, blinking with missed calls.
Five from Kai. Shit.
I dial back, keeping my voice low under the sound of running water.
"Finally," Kai snaps. "Your parents want a full report before they arrive. Pack numbers, defensive positions, anything useful for negotiations."
My stomach churns. "I've sent everything I could safely gather."
"They want more. Specifically, weak points in territory defense. Places that could be... exploited if negotiations go poorly."
Exploited.
Such a polite word for invasion.
"The shower's not the best place for detailed reconnaissance," I hedge.
"Then find a better place. Three days, Blake. They expect comprehensive intelligence."
"Amelia," I correct automatically. "I'm Amelia here."
"Right. Whatever. Just get it done."
The line goes dead. I carefully replace the phone, seal the tile, and actually shower because now I feel genuinely filthy.
When I emerge, Matthias is gone—pack business, probably. The reprieve feels like a gift and a curse. No need to lie to his face, but also no distraction from the guilt eating me alive.
The pack school helps. It always does.
"Luna!" Norah crashes into my legs with her usual enthusiasm. "Did you bring the moon story?"
"Would I disappoint my favorite monster?" I produce the worn picture book from my bag.
"I'm not a monster! I'm a wolf!" She demonstrates with a tiny howl that's more squeak than threat.
"My mistake. Definitely a fierce wolf."
Story time is twenty minutes of pure peace. No spy duties, no identity crisis, just me and fifteen pups learning about why the moon changes shapes. Their innocent questions and bright eyes remind me why Bloodmoon pack is worth protecting.
Even if I'm the threat they need protection from.
"Luna's sad," one of the younger pups observes with devastating accuracy.
"Just thinking about grown-up stuff, sweetheart."
"My mama says grown-up stuff is usually stupid." He nods sagely. "You should think about wolf stuff instead."
From the mouths of babes.
After school, I find myself in Sage Helen's garden, pulling weeds with unnecessary violence.
"Those dandelions personally offend you?" she asks mildly.
"They're invasive. Destructive. Pretend to be flowers when they're actually—" I stop, realizing I'm projecting.
"Ah." She settles beside me, movements careful with age. "Your parents will arrive soon."
"Three days." The words taste like ash.
She pats my hand. "Whatever burden you're carrying, child, you don't have to bear it alone."
The words nearly break me. I want to confess everything, to lay my sins at her feet and beg for absolution. But that would make her complicit. Better she doesn't know her adopted daughter is a traitor.
"Thank you," I whisper instead.
That evening, I excuse myself from dinner prep with complaints of a headache. Another bathroom trip, another report sent to Kai. Guard rotation schedules (outdated by tomorrow), patrol blind spots (that Zack's already fixing), weaknesses that aren't really weaknesses.
I'm getting good at this game—giving just enough truth to sound credible while protecting what matters.
"Blake?" Matthias's voice through the door makes me jump. "You okay?"
"Female problems," I call back, knowing it'll shut down further questions.
"Want me to get Helen?"
"No! I mean, no. I'm fine. Just need a minute."
Silence, then: "I love you."
The words hit like a physical blow. He loves me. Blake. The spy. The fraud. The weapon aimed at his heart.
"I love you too," I whisper, and hate that it's the truest thing I've said all day.
Eventually, life presses forward—as it always does.
Dinner is a pack affair, loud and warm and everything I never had growing up. I sit beside Matthias, letting the mate bond settle my nerves, and pretend I deserve this.
"To our Luna," Elder Catherine raises her glass. "Who has brought new light to our pack."
They toast me—Blake Bishop, spy and fraud—with genuine affection that burns like acid.
Later, in our bedroom, Matthias maps the tension in my shoulders with careful hands.
"Three days," he murmurs. "We could still tell the pack about you being Blake."
"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. "My parents would claim kidnapping. Say you're holding me against my will, forcing me to impersonate my dead sister. It would mean war."
"Let them try." His wolf bleeds through, protective and fierce. "You're my mate. That supersedes any claim they have."
If only he knew their real claim on me. The information I've fed them. The leverage they hold.
"After they leave," I lie. "We'll tell everyone after they leave."
He pulls me close, and I burrow into his warmth like it might save me. The mate bond pulses between us, steady and sure, making everything worse.
Because in three days, I will face my parents. In three days, I have to choose between the family that made me a weapon and the pack that made me whole.
"Whatever happens," Matthias murmurs against my hair, "we're together."
Together.
Except for the part where there's a burner phone hidden in our bathroom tiles, documenting every way to destroy what we've built.
I close my eyes and let myself pretend, just for tonight, that I'm exactly who they think I am—fated mate, beloved Luna, finally home.
In three days, reality comes calling.
And I still don't know if I'm strong enough to stop being the weapon my parents made me.