Hiding The Cruel Alpha's Twin Pups

Kayla Hendrix POV:

"Get her out of my sight. Into the canyon. If the blizzard takes her, so much the better."

Alpha Dale Hood's voice cracked across the great hall like a whip-my fated mate, the man who had once traced my face with such gentleness. Behind him sat the elders of Hood Pack. Below them, my father's Peterson Pack watched in silence.

"You are a wolfless nothing who crawled into my bed on a schemer's smile."

The great hall reeked of copper and lies. Chelsie Harrell-my stepsister-lay sprawled across the flagstones, skirts pooled around her, a vivid crimson blooming between her thighs. "My pup-she kicked me, Dale! Kayla shoved me down the stairs!" Her sob rang clean and practiced across the hall.

Indiana Gamble stood behind her stepdaughter, one hand resting on the back of Chelsie's chair, her face arranged into a mask of motherly grief. My father Erasmo's second wife. The woman who had slid into my mother's place before my mother's body was even cold. And now her stepdaughter was about to slide into mine.

I opened my mouth. "I was nowhere near the west stair-"

I was twelve weeks along. I had my own child-how could I have harmed hers?

Indiana's people had spent months spreading whispers that I was barren and grasping; the Pack Physician Gavin had signed Chelsie's forged pregnancy ledger that very morning; a kitchen maid, bought and rehearsed, swore she'd seen me near the stairs. My own whereabouts had been scrubbed from the guard log before I could speak.

I tried once more. "Dale. Listen to me."

But he had already turned his shoulder, refusing to hear me. Hands seized my arms and hauled me off my feet. They dragged me through the snow with nothing but the coat on my back and hurled me through the keep doors like a rag they'd finished with, and the canyon blizzard caught me on the other side.

Snow drove into my face in solid sheets. I went to my knees in the drift, the borrowed coat useless against the cold, and for a long moment I simply stayed where they'd dropped me. I tipped my face to the sky. Snowflakes drifted down out of a dead-black night, endless and weightless, each one a small indifferent thing that would be gone by morning.

More than five years later, the snow was still falling.

I stood at the second-floor window of the Healing Sanctuary, my fingers curled into tight fists on the metal tray, clattering the surgical clamps. I lunged forward and shoved the half-closed blinds open. The rusty metal slats screeched against each other, letting a blast of winter wind sweep into the second-floor office of the Healing Sanctuary.

Looking down into the courtyard, my breath caught in my throat. A black bulletproof SUV sat by the curb, its door stamped with the silver-rimmed black wolf crest of the Hood Pack.

My pulse kicked. The Hood Pack. Of course. Both of my hands twisted into the hem of my white coat so hard my knuckles turned white.

An invisible hand seemed to squeeze my heart until my ribs ached. I sucked in a slow, freezing breath, severing that phantom mate-bond ache, and rubbed my temples until the calm of a Divine Healer settled back into my bones.

Shouts broke out in the courtyard below. I stepped back to the window, looking past the bare tree branches to the center of the lawn.

My four-and-a-half-year-old son, Jamir, stood with his small arms spread wide like a young guard wolf, shielding a bleeding stray hound on the mud.

Sharp heels clicked against the pavement. A shrill, sugary voice cut through the cold air-and my spine went rigid a half-second before my brain caught up. More than five years of burying it, and one syllable was enough to send my pulse skittering sideways. Chelsie. My father's stepdaughter. The woman who'd used a faked miscarriage to take my place in Hood Pack.

"Throw this filthy thing out of my sight!"

Chelsie Harrell pinched her nose in disgust and raised her pointed heel, kicking straight at the dying hound's belly.

Jamir let out a fierce growl. Moving with a blur of speed only pure Alpha blood could grant, his small body slammed into Chelsie's calf and knocked her kick off course.

Chelsie lost her footing and stumbled backward several steps through the mud. Her painted face twisted with rage as she barely kept herself from falling.

She raised her hand, a vicious glint in her eyes that no weak Omega should ever possess, and swung her palm straight toward Jamir's cheek.

My pupils shrank. My fingers gripped the cold window ledge, muscles tensing to leap from the second floor and tear her throat out.

Before I could jump, a wide, calloused hand with a familiar faded scar across the knuckles reached out and caught Chelsie's wrist in mid-air.

A deep voice heavy with suffocating Alpha dominance rolled across the courtyard.

"Enough, Chelsie. Remember who you are."

My whole body locked up-a jolt straight through the ribs, the kind you feel a beat before you know why. That voice. Lower now, rougher at the edges, but it hooked into the oldest part of me the way nothing else ever had. I'd have known that timbre blind, bound, and buried.

Even across more than five years and two stories of brick, Dale's cedar-and-rain scent hit my nostrils like a heavy wave, making my stomach clench. A traitorous tingle sparked at the nape of my neck-the old mate-bond flare I had sworn was dead-before I crushed it beneath my heel.

Chelsie dropped her hand and leaned toward his chest, her eyes reddening as her voice trembled.

"Dale, this wild brat ruined my dress..."

Dale stepped sideways, his shoulders stiffening as he avoided her touch. His dark gray eyes swept past the bleeding dog and locked onto Jamir's stubborn face.

"Move aside, kid," Dale said, looking down at him.

A heavy wave of Alpha's Command pulsed from Dale's body. In werewolf society, genetics dictate rank from birth, and no lower-ranked wolf can resist their Alpha's Command.

Around them, the sanctuary nurses and low-ranking orderlies gasped, their knees buckling as the invisible weight forced their backs to bend.

Yet Jamir bit his lower lip, his deep golden eyes flashing with fierce defiance as he kept his small spine straight and didn't budge an inch.

Dale's brows twitched, his gray eyes widening slightly at the boy who was completely immune to his supreme genetic pressure.

"I said, don't touch it!" Jamir shouted.

Underneath his childish voice rumbled a faint, unmistakable Dire Wolf roar that made the loose gravel around his boots vibrate.

Down below, Dale pressed a hand against his chest, his jaw tightening as if his inner wolf had just stirred in his skull.

He took a sharp step forward, squinting to get a closer look at Jamir's face, while my son backed up half a pace to cover the dog.

I couldn't watch another second. Spinning around, I grabbed the first-aid kit off my desk, kicked the office door open, and strode toward the stairs.

As the hallway draft whipped my white coat around my legs, I pulled a vial of evening primrose extract from my pocket and sprayed it over my neck.

The bitter herbal mist drowned out my natural White Wolf scent-the only thing keeping my identity hidden from the mate bond.

I marched down the stairs, each step steady and cold, and shoved the first-floor double doors open into the courtyard air.

"Step away from my son, Alpha Hood."

Kayla Hendrix POV:

I strode down the stone steps straight from the doorway and pulled Jamir behind my legs, glaring right into Dale's cold face.

Dale's head snapped up. When his dark gray eyes met the surgical mask covering the lower half of my face, his pupils trembled violently.

His tall frame leaned forward without his permission, his nostrils flaring as he tried to catch a familiar trace in the wind. A werewolf always recognizes their fated mate by scent before sight, a biological law carved into our bones by the Moon Goddess.

All that hit his nose was pungent evening primrose mixed with hospital disinfectant. The heat in his eyes died out, replaced by a deep, restless confusion.

"Who are you?" Dale asked, his voice rough and raspy as he stared into my eyes.

"Healer Melly," I replied in a flat tone, keeping my hands steady at my sides. "Chief attending healer of this sanctuary."

Chelsie stepped forward, her voice pitching high.

"So you're that famous healer? Control your little bastard! He almost broke my leg!"

I turned my head and looked at her powdered face.

"If your eyes still work, Miss Harrell, you know damn well who was attacking a bleeding animal first."

Chelsie flinched at the coldness in my voice and shrank back toward Dale's arm, only to find Dale standing like a stone statue without raising a finger to shield her.

Dale let out a slow breath, shoving his hands into his suit jacket to pull out a gold-embossed Alpha calling card.

"Tell your Pack Doctor, Gavin Foster, to get down here and treat this mutt," Dale ordered, holding the card out to me as if he owned the building.

I didn't raise my hand. I looked at the gold card hanging in the freezing air and left it there.

"My son and I will treat it. Don't waste my time, Alpha Hood."

Taking Jamir's warm little hand, I turned my back on both of them and walked through the front doors into the sanctuary hallway. Behind me, I heard the stiff rustle of Dale's sleeve as his hand remained frozen in mid-air.

I led Jamir up the stairs to my private lounge on the second floor. Only when the lock clicked shut did the tight muscles along my spine loosen.

Jamir looked up at me, his golden eyes wide and serious.

"Mom, that man outside... his smell made my chest feel weird."

I dropped to my knees and rubbed his curly black hair, swallowing the sour lump in my throat.

"Don't worry about him, sweetie. He's just a stranger passing through."

Standing up, I walked to my desk, pulled open the top drawer, and flipped through the new intake charts until I saw the name Chelsie Harrell printed in bold ink.

So she was the VIP patient the director had begged me to examine for severe genetic exhaustion. Of all the patients in this city, it had to be her. More than five years ago she framed me with a fake miscarriage, and now she was delivering her rotten body into my hands.

I walked into the attached washroom, turned on the tap, and splashed freezing water over my face. Looking up into the mirror, I checked the thin prosthetic edges along my cheekbones that slightly altered my features.

Opening my metal medicine box, I pulled out dried silver-leaf herbs and rosemary stems, dropping them into a stone mortar to grind them into a thick green paste.

I smeared the icy herbal juice behind my ears and over my wrists. No Alpha's nose on earth could pierce through a double layer of silver-leaf oil.

A soft knock sounded at the lounge door before my four-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Fawn, poked her blonde head inside, hugging a stuffed bunny.

"Mommy!"

I wiped my hands and walked over, scooping her soft little body into my arms and breathing in her sweet milk scent until my racing pulse slowed down.

"Mommy, Jamir said there's a really mean uncle downstairs," Fawn whispered, blinking her big, watery eyes.

I kissed her forehead and smoothed her golden curls.

"No one can hurt you or your brother. Mommy promises."

Setting Fawn down beside Jamir on the sofa, I buttoned my fresh white coat and tucked Chelsie's medical chart under my arm.

I pulled the lounge door open and stepped into the corridor. Down at the end of the hall, Chelsie's shrill voice was already echoing from the VIP examination room.

Kayla Hendrix POV:

Walking down the corridor, I gripped the cold metal handle of the VIP examination room, pushed it down, and shoved the door open.

Inside, Chelsie lay slumped against the leather sofa, clutching her chest and gasping for air, while Dale stood by the window with his broad back stiff with impatience.

"Doctor Melly, you're finally here! My heart feels like it's tearing apart," Chelsie whimpered, dropping her chin to look frail the second she saw me.

I walked over and stopped two feet from the sofa without even reaching for a stethoscope.

"Palpitations and shortness of breath, yet your cheeks are flushed and your lungs are loud enough to shake the glass," I said flatly.

Dale turned around from the window, his dark brows pulling together as his Alpha pressure filled the room.

"Watch your tone, Healer. Cure her."

I met his gray stare without blinking.

"Alpha Hood, I'm a medical professional, not an extra hired to play along with her melodrama."

Chelsie let out a sharp shriek, pointing a trembling finger at my nose.

"Dale, look at her! She's humiliating me on purpose! She's just jealous because I'm going to be the Luna of the Hood Pack!"

A dry laugh escaped my mask. I dropped my gaze to the bare skin where her neck met her shoulder-smooth, pale, and completely empty of a mate mark.

"The future Luna?" I dragged the words out, letting them echo off the tiled walls. "In every pack on this continent, an unmarked female without a permanent bite on her neck doesn't even have the right to enter the inner circle, let alone call herself Luna."

Every drop of blood drained from Chelsie's face. Her hand flew up to cover her bare neck, her voice cracking in panic.

"You're lying! Dale only held back from marking me because my body is too weak!"

I flipped open the chart in my arm and tossed three lab sheets onto the glass coffee table between us.

"Whether your body is naturally weak or your inner wolf dried up because you secretly drank illegal silver-laced potions, you know best."

The air in the room froze solid. Dale's head whipped toward Chelsie, his gray eyes narrowing to razor slits.

Chelsie shook all over, scrambling backward on the cushions.

"No! Dale, don't listen to her! This quack is framing me!"

Ignoring her screams, I pulled a small vial of pale blue liquid from my coat pocket and held it up to the light.

"This is genetic vitality reagent. One drop of your blood in here will show everyone if silver poison killed your wolf."

I stepped forward with the vial. Chelsie gasped and slid right off the sofa, landing hard on the carpet on her rear.

Just as I reached for her wrist, Dale took one long stride and planted his wide chest directly between me and the woman on the floor.

"Enough," Dale growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "This is Hood Pack business. An outsider doesn't get to draw blood here."

I stopped in my tracks, looking up at the harsh jawline of the man who had once sworn to protect me, my stomach twisting with cold disgust.

"Then take your precious fiancée out of here, Alpha, and stop dirtying my clinic."

I spun on my heel and walked straight out the door.

Dale Hood POV:

I stared at the woman calling herself Melly as she walked out. Her cold eyes left my chest feeling like it was crushed under a boulder.

The way she held her spine straight, the brisk rhythm of her boots hitting the floor without looking back-it overlapped completely with the figure that had walked into the canyon blizzard more than five years ago. And it was more than the silhouette. The way she'd flipped the chart onto the table-two fingers at the corner, a practiced flick of the wrist-was Kayla's exact geometry. The slight tilt of her head, chin up, as if daring me to contradict her, was a mannerism I had memorized and buried.

My heart gave a violent lurch. Inside my head, my Dire Wolf slammed against my mental walls, letting out a raw, desperate howl.

"Mate... that's our mate!" my wolf roared, his voice ragged after more than five years of howling at the full moon in agony.

I pressed two fingers hard against my temple, my jaw clenching until my teeth ached. Kayla was dead. My scouts had brought back frozen, mangled remains from that canyon blizzard.

Then why did every single breath this healer took make my blood boil like I was standing next to my fated mate?

Looking down at Chelsie sobbing on the carpet, the sweet floral perfume she wore suddenly made my stomach churn with nausea.

Without offering her a hand, I strode past her out into the hallway, where my Beta, Brien Potter, stood guard by the wall.

"Dig up everything on this Healer Melly," I ordered, keeping my voice low and tight. "From the day she was born to five minutes ago. I want every secret she's hiding."

Brien blinked in surprise before bowing his head.

"Yes, Alpha."

As Brien hurried away, I leaned my shoulder against the cold hallway wall, my breath coming fast and shallow. If she really was Kayla... if she had survived that deadly frost...

I drove my fist straight into the plaster wall, white dust flaking over my bleeding knuckles.