Could it be…? My instincts were screaming at me, claws scraping at the edge of reason. Had Anastasia done something unspeakable in the den right there in the heart of Elliot's pack territory? Had she been lying all along when she claimed she didn't care for him? My wolf growled low in my chest at the thought. Was she already entangled with the Alpha long ago, weaving her dominance in silence?
The image of Elliot's neck flashed before my eyes the hickey, a mark of possession, deliberate and bold. She had planted it there just for me to see. Heat and fury coursed through me, my blood humming with the primal instinct to protect, to claim, to retaliate. Anastasia so cunning, so utterly shameless. Five years of silence, five years of plotting, and now this. My teeth ached with the need to sink them into her treachery.
"How shameless," I growled, voice low and dangerous.
Erica, my pack-mate in annoyance, nodded vigorously beside me. "I know, right? She has no shame! Today she grabbed my hair, left my face swollen. I won't forgive her that easily."
My growl deepened, more for my own fury than for Erica's sake. My instincts screamed: she cannot go unchallenged. No intruder could stake a claim near my Alpha and remain unpunished.
"How old is Anastasia's son?" I asked, trying to steady the tremor in my claws.
Erica flipped through her phone, images of the child surfacing like prey glimpsed in the moonlight. "Here. I secretly took some photos at home. I wonder who this mutt's sire is," she said, a spark of fear and curiosity in her eyes.
I snatched the phone, and the moment my gaze fell on the boy, the world seemed to stop. My heart thudded like the roar of a wolf pack, and for a second, my mind went blank. How could this be? His face… his eyes… the shape of his jaw he was Elliot's blood, unmistakably, undeniably.
I stared at each photo, my pulse hammering in my ears. The more I looked, the more the scent of betrayal and dominance filled my senses. Anastasia's son wasn't some random pup. He was born of Elliot's seed, carried in secret across seas, away from the den, away from the pack. A child conceived in the shadow of years past, and now standing before me in evidence of her cunning.
"How old is he?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, tight with the feral need to understand.
Erica shook her head, frowning. "She says he's three, but I don't buy it. No three-year-old would be this tall. She's hiding something she's lying, just like always."
My claws dug into the leather of my chair, my wolf instincts thrumming with the need to strike, to hunt, to reclaim what was rightfully the Alpha's. Each photo I scanned was another strike to my pride, another fire igniting in my chest. My blood burned with jealousy, with rage, with the ache of a mate bond unseen yet unmistakably present.
Anastasia didn't know. She didn't know Elliot was the Alpha from five years ago. She didn't know that every beat of that boy's heart carried the power of his bloodline. And she certainly didn't know that I, Hayley, could sense it, could feel the pull of destiny and desire converging in a storm of heat and instinct.
The pack rules had been broken, the Alpha's bond threatened, and I could not let this pass unnoticed. My claws itched for action, my senses heightened with the urgency of a predator. This was no longer just about rivalry. This was about territory, dominance, and the primal connection that could not be denied.
Elliot's child. Elliot's blood. And Anastasia had the audacity to hide it from the pack, from me.
The hunt had begun.
Anastasia's connection with Elliot had become far more tangled than her mother's sacrifice years ago to save him. Now, the Alpha's blood coursed not just through her veins, but through her son's as well. That tiny pulse carried the power of the Presgrave pack, the mark of dominance, and the claim of lineage. Every instinct in me howled at the unfairness of it.
How had Anastasia been so damn lucky? Just one night, five years ago, and now she held the very blood of the Alpha in her little son's veins. My wolf growled low in my chest, furious and aching. Every plan I had, every desire for power, now seemed incomplete compared to what she had already gained.
I couldn't allow her to hold that kind of advantage. I needed Elliot for myself, his bond, his dominance, his fire and to secure it, I had to wield power that could rival hers. If I bore his child, my own pup, then the future would tilt in my favor. My pack instincts screamed at me: nothing could be more primal, more binding than carrying the heir of the Presgrave bloodline.
The thought revitalized me, setting my blood alight. My claws dug into my chair as I imagined the strength, the pride, and the dominance I would claim once Elliot's blood ran through my child. Anastasia's advantage would pale in comparison. My teeth itched to bite, my senses sharpened, and my pulse throbbed with determination.
"Hayley, why are you zoning out? Is everything okay these days?" Erica's voice cut through my thoughts. She had caught me staring, my expression dark as the full moon.
I forced a smile, hiding the burning hunger in my chest. "It's nothing. I've just been busy, that's all," I lied, letting the mask of exhaustion fall over me.
Erica didn't suspect a thing. She still thought I was the follower, the one trailing behind, when in reality, every step I took was calculated. In her eyes, I had always been beneath her, living in the shadows of her wealth and status. That illusion was part of my power now my deepest hatred and my greatest strength. I had clawed my way from being unnoticed, from being a stray in the pack, to claiming a place where every eye would respect me. One day, I swore, I would be the Young Mistress of the Presgrave pack, feared, admired, and acknowledged by all.
Later, after the den had emptied and the city's pulse slowed, I returned to our small home to pick up my son. The night wrapped us in quiet shadows as I cooked, filling the air with scents he loved. Chicken casserole the one dish that could vanish from his plate faster than any predator on the hunt.
"Mommy, Grandpa said that you're not young anymore and he wants you to find a life partner," my son piped up, his small voice brimming with curiosity.
I laughed, the sound warm and untamed, like a wolf in the moonlight. "I have you with me, little one. We're best partners, aren't we?"
He tilted his head, those keen little eyes holding a spark of pack instinct already. "Mommy, Grandpa also asked me who my daddy is. Can you ask him to come back?"
My heart skipped a beat, a flurry of wolfish protectiveness and longing igniting inside me. He didn't know, of course, that his father's blood ran in his veins, that his Alpha's presence was more than just a name whispered in passing. The weight of it settled over me like a heavy scent on the wind powerful, dangerous, and intoxicating.
I crouched to his level, my fingers brushing his hair as I whispered, "We'll see, my little one. We'll see."
The moon outside gleamed, silver and watchful, as if the pack itself had heard the silent promise I made. One day, the Alpha would know. One day, he would recognize the bond that we shared the bond written in blood, in dominance, and in destiny. Until then, I would guard him, my son, my heir, and wait for the moment when the pack would bow to my claim.
And Anastasia? She wouldn't see me coming until it was too late.