Chapter 3

For the first time in pack history, Omegas were treated like actual members. And I was 90% sure it was because of a flirty text I'd sent to a vampire who turned out to be my Alpha.

I should have been thrilled. Instead, I was terrified.

D kept sending me proof of his "reforms," like a puppy dropping gifts at my feet.

"Little Wolf, look — I arranged better housing for the lower-ranked members."

"I made the training grounds open to everyone now. Aren't I thoughtful?"

"You said you hated how leaders abuse power. I'm trying to be better. For you."

Meanwhile, in real life, I watched these exact changes roll out across the pack compound. New bedding appeared in the Omega quarters. The training schedule was rewritten. The kitchen staff got actual lunch breaks.

Clara was ecstatic. "I don't know what got into Alpha Dominic, but I'm not complaining."

If she knew what got into him was my complaint about "tyrants," she'd never let me live it down.

I played both sides carefully. During the day, I prepared for the vampire Summit, attending briefings where Dominic sat at the head of the table and pretended I didn't exist. At night, I texted D about my frustrations, carefully steering him toward more pack improvements.

"You know what really shows strong leadership? When the people at the bottom don't dread coming to work."

The next day, Dominic announced monthly bonding events for all ranks.

"A good leader remembers that loyalty is earned, not demanded."

The day after, he restructured the punishment system so Omegas couldn't be disciplined without a formal review.

I was a genius. An absolute genius.

But even geniuses slip up.

Two weeks before the Summit, D messaged me something that made my blood run cold.

"I've been analyzing our conversations. The things you know about pack dynamics, the way you describe your workplace — you're not in a vampire coven at all, are you?"

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

"You're a werewolf. And based on the specific complaints you've made about housing and kitchen duties... you're in a pack. A large one."

I tried to deflect. "Lots of supernaturals have kitchen duties."

"Little Wolf, you mentioned a 'century-old treaty' two weeks ago. There are only three active treaties from that era. And only one involves a pack with Omega housing issues."

"You're in the Silver Fang pack."

Why was this man an Alpha? He should be working for the FBI.

I panicked and typed the only thing I could think of: "What makes you so sure I'm even female?"