Keira's POV
The silver polish burned my hands as I scrubbed the marble floor where I used to walk as heir.
Three years. Three years of bowing my head to the woman who murdered my parents. Three years of serving meals to the stepbrother who stole my throne. Three years of being invisible in my own home while I gathered proof of their crimes.
But today felt different. Dangerous.
"Make sure every surface sparkles," Helena's sharp voice cut through the entrance hall. My stepmother—no, the murderer pretending to be Luna—stood at the top of the grand staircase in a blue dress that cost more than most wolves earned in a year. "Alpha King Theron Nightfang arrives in three hours. Everything must be perfect."
I kept my head down, brown contact lenses hiding my distinctive amber eyes. My alpha power was buried deep under three years of wolfsbane poisoning, making me seem like just another weak servant. Kira Stone, they called me. Not Keira Ashford, rightful Alpha of Silverpine Pack.
"Yes, Luna Helena," I whispered, hating how small I sounded.
She swept past me without a second glance. I was beneath her notice. Good. That's exactly what kept me alive.
But my hands shook as I scrubbed. Alpha King Theron Nightfang. The most dangerous wolf in the region. Shadowcrest's ruthless ruler who'd killed his way to power at eighteen and never looked back. He was Silverpine's greatest enemy—and Helena was inviting him here for treaty negotiations.
Something was very wrong.
I waited until Helena disappeared around the corner, then crept toward the study where Marcus liked to hold his morning meetings. The door was cracked open just enough for me to hear voices inside.
"—nervous about meeting him, Mother." Marcus sounded like a scared puppy, not an Alpha. "What if Theron suspects something?"
"He suspects nothing," Helena said coldly. "As far as the Wolf Council knows, you're the legitimate Alpha. Your father named you heir before his death. We have the documents to prove it."
Forged documents. I'd found the originals hidden in Helena's private chambers two months ago—proof that my father never changed his will, proof that Marcus had no legal claim to Silverpine.
"But what about Keira?" Marcus asked. "What if she's still alive somewhere? What if she comes back?"
My heart hammered. They still worried about me after three years. Good.
"Keira is dead," Helena said flatly. "Or as good as dead. Even if she survived leaving our territory, she has no proof, no allies, no way to challenge us. Stop worrying about a ghost."
I'm not a ghost, I thought fiercely. I'm a nightmare waiting to happen.
"The treaty with Shadowcrest is crucial," Helena continued. "Once the Council sees you handling diplomatic relations with Alpha King Theron, your position becomes unshakeable. They'll stop questioning your right to rule."
"And if Theron demands too much in the negotiations?"
"Give him whatever he wants—trade routes, hunting rights, border access. We need his public support more than we need territory. Once you're solidly established, we can renegotiate later." Helena paused. "Besides, Theron Nightfang is known for his hatred of weakness. He'll respect strength and decisive leadership. Show him you're a true Alpha, Marcus. Make me proud."
Footsteps approached the door. I grabbed my bucket and scrub brush, scurrying away before they caught me listening. My mind raced as I moved to the kitchens.
Helena was using Theron to legitimize Marcus's stolen position. If the other packs saw Shadowcrest's Alpha King treating Marcus as an equal, it would make challenging him nearly impossible.
I had to stop this somehow. But how? I was one disguised wolf against an entire conspiracy.
"Kira!" Lyra, the kitchen omega, waved me over. She was one of the few wolves who treated me with kindness. "They're assigning servers for tonight's dinner. You should volunteer before Marcus picks you anyway."
"Volunteer to serve the Alpha King?" My stomach twisted.
"Better than being forced. At least if you volunteer, you might get the easier jobs—filling wine glasses instead of carrying heavy platters." Lyra squeezed my shoulder. "Besides, servants are invisible during these fancy dinners. You'll be fine."
Invisible. That word again. The word that had kept me alive but made me feel like I was slowly disappearing.
"Thanks, Lyra," I said quietly. "I'll volunteer."
But as I walked toward the head butler to give my name, ice slid down my spine. Serving at tonight's dinner meant being in the same room as Theron Nightfang. The most dangerous Alpha alive. A man whose reputation claimed he could smell lies and spot weakness from across a battlefield.
What if he saw through my disguise? What if three years of hiding ended tonight because I couldn't stay invisible around a king who noticed everything?
I reached the butler. "I'd like to serve at tonight's dinner."
He barely looked up. "Fine. You'll handle wine service. Don't spill anything, don't speak unless spoken to, and for the Moon Goddess's sake, don't make eye contact with the Alpha King. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
As he walked away, Marcus appeared from the hallway, his cold eyes landing on me. My stepbrother had been handsome once, before power made him cruel. Now he just looked hungry—hungry for more control, more respect, more proof that he deserved what he'd stolen.
"You're serving tonight?" he asked.
"Yes, Alpha Marcus." I kept my eyes down, playing the submissive servant.
"Good. Make sure you don't embarrass me in front of King Theron." He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "If you mess this up, I'll have you whipped. Understand?"
Up close, I saw it—the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Some part of him still wondered if I was alive, if I was coming back, if his stolen throne was really secure.
"I understand," I whispered.
He released me with a disgusted sound and stalked away. I touched my chin where his fingers had gripped too hard, feeling the rage I'd been swallowing for three years threaten to surface.
Soon, I promised myself. Soon you'll know exactly who you've been threatening.
But first, I had to survive tonight.
I had to stay invisible in front of the one wolf who might actually see me.
The afternoon passed in a blur of preparations. I polished wine glasses until they sparkled, memorized which vintage went with which course, and tried to calm my racing heart. By the time the sun started setting, casting orange light through the pack house windows, I felt like I might throw up.
Then the horns sounded.
Alpha King Theron Nightfang had arrived.
I stood in the line of servants along the entrance hall wall as the massive front doors opened. My hands were clasped in front of me, head bowed, trying to look like nothing more than part of the furniture.
Heavy footsteps echoed on marble. A presence filled the room—dark, powerful, commanding. Every wolf in the hall felt it. Even Helena and Marcus, standing at the bottom of the stairs to greet their guest, seemed smaller somehow.
"Alpha King Theron," Helena said warmly, stepping forward with her hand extended. "Welcome to Silverpine. We're honored by your presence."
"Luna Helena. Alpha Marcus." The voice was deep and cold, like winter itself had learned to speak. "Let's skip the pleasantries. Where's the treaty room? I have other territories to visit this month."
So much for diplomatic niceties.
Marcus looked flustered but recovered quickly. "Of course. But first, we've prepared a formal dinner in your honor. A chance to discuss matters in a more... relaxed setting."
"Fine."
They moved past us toward the dining hall. I kept my head down as they passed, but something made the hair on my neck stand up. A feeling like being watched by a predator.
Don't look up. Don't react. Be invisible.
"You." That cold voice stopped directly in front of me. "The server with the wine glasses."
My blood turned to ice.
"Yes, Your Majesty?" I kept my voice soft, my head bowed.
Silence stretched for three heartbeats. Four. Five.
"Look at me."
It was a command, not a request. My Alpha training screamed not to submit, but my survival instinct knew refusing would draw attention. Slowly, I raised my head.
And looked directly into the eyes of Theron Nightfang.
He was tall—taller than any wolf I'd ever seen. Dark hair, sharp features, and eyes like liquid gold that seemed to see straight through my disguise, through my lies, through three years of carefully built invisibility.
Those golden eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared slightly, like he was scenting something unexpected.
No. No, no, no—
"Interesting," he said softly, so quietly only I could hear. Then louder, to Marcus: "I'll take my wine directly from this one tonight. She has steady hands."
Marcus looked confused but nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty. Kira will serve you personally."
Theron's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Kira. That's your name?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." My heart pounded so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.
"Well then, Kira." He leaned closer, and I caught his scent—pine and winter and something wild. "Don't spill anything."
Then he walked away, following Helena and Marcus toward the dining hall.
I stood frozen, my hands trembling.
He knew. I didn't understand how, but somehow, Alpha King Theron Nightfang knew I wasn't what I pretended to be.
And tonight, I'd have to serve him wine while he decided what to do about it.