Marking the Alpha My Cousin Couldn't Tame Chapter 7

Liora vanished after that night. No more tears at the doorstep. No more trembling voices at pack gatherings. The wolves who'd whispered about me started showing up with firewood and fresh kills instead—nobody mentioned the cliff, and I didn't bring it up.

Weeks passed. I fell into Cold Moon's rhythm faster than I expected. Morning patrols with the she-wolves. Afternoons fixing anything that broke—fences, roof tiles, the ancient generator that powered the communal hall.

Kaelen ran drills with the warriors during the day and came home smelling like pine and sweat. We argued over small things—who left the firewood out in the rain, whose turn it was to cook—and made up over smaller ones.

The bond hummed between us like a second heartbeat. I'd catch his emotions through it at odd moments—a flare of warmth when I laughed too loud, a spike of irritation when I stayed up too late sharpening knives. He never said anything about it. But I'd feel it, and he'd feel me feeling it, and then we'd both pretend we hadn't.

It was almost peaceful. Almost enough.

But Cold Moon was broke. The warriors hunted and patrolled. The women and elders had nothing. No trade, no income, no contact with the outside world beyond whatever the pack council decided to share. I'd spent a whole past life watching this kind of stagnation choke a pack from the inside.

So I did what I do best. I started trouble.

I gathered every woman, elder, and injured wolf who couldn't run patrol and threw a bundle of Frostbloom on the table.

"This weed you've been feeding to livestock? Down south, it sells for fifty bucks a gram." I let that land. "You've been sitting on a fortune and dumping it in pig troughs."

Tamsin Mercer, the she-wolf from two cabins over, squinted at the pale blue stems. "Come on, Roxy. It's just wild grass."

I pulled out my phone, dialed a number from my past life—a southern herbalist who'd been my buyer for years. Ten minutes later, I hung up.

"First order. Paid in advance. Anyone who wants to work, follow me up the mountain. Cash at the end of the day."

Nobody argues with money. By noon, I had a crew.

A week later, the first full payment came through. The pack went wild. Women who hadn't earned their own money in decades were counting bills at the communal table. I watched from the doorway, arms crossed, grinning like an idiot.

Kaelen appeared beside me with two mugs. He handed me one, then nodded at the Frostbloom bundles drying on the rack.

"You know what this herb actually does, right?"

"Enhances stamina. Recovery. Focus."

His eyes drifted toward the bedroom. "...Focus. Right."

I won't say what happened that night. But I never personally picked Frostbloom again. Handed the entire harvest over to Tamsin's crew and didn't look back.

The letter arrived through pack courier a few days later. My mother's handwriting could've set the paper on fire.

*Crime one: stealing your cousin's contract. Crime two: disappearing without a word. Crime three: total radio silence for weeks. You are dead to me until further notice.*

*P.S. Elena says the baby kicked. She named her after Grandma.*

*P.P.S. I love you, you ungrateful brat.*

I read it twice. The P.S. hit different.

*Last life, Elena spent fifty years unmarked, childless, fading in a pack that never accepted her. I spent mine alone, building a business nobody cared about, dying with nothing but inventory lists for company.*

*This time, she has a daughter. A man who writes her poetry.*

*And me? Grease under my nails, a pack full of women who follow me up mountains, and an Alpha who can't stop staring at me when he thinks I'm not looking.*

*Not bad at all.*

Kaelen's arms slid around my waist from behind. His chin settled on my shoulder, reading over me.

"Your cousin already has a pup." His voice was low against my ear. "When do we start?"

"Shouldn't that depend on you?" I didn't turn around. "If you were any good, it would've happened by now."

He laughed—quiet, warm. "Noted. I'll work on it."

That evening, Tamsin dropped by with a basket of dried herbs and a mouth full of gossip.

"So," she said, settling into the chair like she owned it, "guess who I spotted in the pine grove last night. Walking hand in hand. Very cozy."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Liora. And Desmond Hargrove."

Desmond. The Alpha who controlled the western transport pass. Old enough to be Liora's father.

"Desmond has a family," I said.

Tamsin shrugged. "That's what I said. But I know what I saw."

I filed it away. Didn't think much of it at the time.

I should have.