The Beta’s Ugly Daughter

Chapter 10

He saw my brilliance today, he might even see my beauty tonight. But tomorrow, he’ll forget I was ever worth looking at.

"The territorial disputes from the 1800s show a clear pattern," I said, spreading three different maps across the archive table. "Every conflict started during harvest season when resources were stretched thin."

Wyatt leaned closer, studying the documents I'd arranged. "You're right. Look at the dates, September through November, every single time."

"It's basic resource management," I continued, warming to the topic. "When food stores are low, wolves get territorial. Add in the pressure of preparing for winter, and you have a recipe for conflict."

"Why didn't the Alphas see this pattern?" He looked up at me, genuine curiosity in his silver-blue eyes. "This seems obvious once you point it out."

"Because they were focused on the immediate crisis instead of the bigger picture. Sometimes you need distance to see the truth of things." The words hung in the air between us, heavier than I'd intended. Wyatt's gaze lingered on my face, and I felt that familiar flutter in my chest, the one that had been growing stronger every day we worked together.

"You have a gift for this," he said quietly. "For seeing connections others miss."

Heat crawled up my neck. "It's just pattern recognition."

"No, it's more than that." He shifted in his chair, angling toward me. "You see the story behind the facts. That's rare."

I ducked my head, focusing on organizing the scattered documents. Over the past weeks, our conversations had become easier, more natural. He listened when I spoke now, really listened, and sometimes waited for my thoughts before offering his own. It felt dangerous, this growing comfort between us.

"What do you think about the proposed trade agreement with the Northern Packs?" he asked, pulling out a fresh scroll. "Father wants my opinion, but I'd value yours first."

The fact that he sought my advice on pack politics made my heart race. "I think-"

The archive door opened with a soft creak, and Mira stepped inside.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, but her dark eyes moved between Wyatt and me with careful attention, taking in how close we were sitting, the scattered papers that showed hours of collaboration, the easy way we'd been talking before she arrived. I immediately straightened, putting distance between myself and Wyatt. The guilt was instant and sharp, here was my cousin, beautiful and kind, finding me in what looked like an intimate moment with her betrothed.

"Not interrupting at all," Wyatt said, though something in his voice suggested otherwise. "What can I do for you?"

"Mother wanted to confirm the flower arrangements for the ceremony," Mira said, her tone carefully neutral. "She said you mentioned preferring white roses over red?"

"Right. Yes, white roses are fine."

Mira nodded, but her gaze lingered on the table where our hands had been resting just inches apart moments before. "I'll let her know."

She stayed for another minute, making small talk about the weather and upcoming pack events, but I could feel her watching us. Taking note of the way Wyatt's attention kept drifting back to me, how I couldn't quite meet her eyes. When she finally left, the archive felt different, smaller. The easy comfort Wyatt and I had been building felt fragile now, tainted by the reminder of what was already promised, already decided.

"We should finish up," I said, reaching for the documents we'd been reviewing.

"Gail." Wyatt's voice was soft, questioning. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," I lied, not looking at him. "Just tired." But even as I said it, I could feel his eyes on me, studying my face like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

That night, the blood moon hung heavy and red above the Whispering Grove, casting everything in crimson light. I found Wyatt already waiting in the clearing, sitting on the fallen log where I'd first encountered my wolf. He looked up when I stepped through the trees, and his face broke into a smile that made my chest tight.

"I was hoping you'd come," he said.

"Where else would I be?" I settled beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body but not quite touching.

We sat in comfortable silence at first, listening to the night sounds of the forest around us. The blood moon's magic hummed in my veins, making me feel alive and powerful in ways that daylight never allowed.

"Tell me something true," Wyatt said eventually.

"What do you mean?"

"Something real. Something you've never told anyone else."

I turned to study his profile in the moonlight. "Why?"

"Because I feel like I only know pieces of you. Fragments. I want to know the whole story."

If only he knew how impossible that was. "Some stories are too complicated to tell."

"Try me." His hand found mine in the space between us, fingers intertwining with gentle pressure. The contact sent electricity up my arm, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

"I'm not who you think I am," I whispered.

"Then who are you?" Before I could answer, he turned toward me fully. His free hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin with devastating tenderness.

"I don't care who you think you are," he said quietly. "I know who I see when I look at you."

The space between us grew smaller. His eyes dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes, a question in his gaze. My breath caught as he leaned closer, his scent surrounding me, pine and warmth and something uniquely him.

This was it, the moment I'd dreamed of and dreaded in equal measure. His lips were just inches from mine when the truth crashed through the magic-drunk haze in my mind. He doesn't know. He doesn't know who you really are.

The thought hit like ice water. This beautiful, powerful man was about to kiss someone who didn't exist. Someone he could only see and want under the blood moon's spell, while during the day he had to fight supernatural revulsion just to look at my actual face. I jerked back, pulling my hand from his so quickly that he blinked in surprise.

"I can't," I gasped, scrambling to my feet.

"Red, wait-"

But I was already moving, fleeing through the trees as fast as my transformed body could carry me. Behind me, I heard him call my name, the name that wasn't really mine, but I didn't stop. The warmth that had been building in my chest all evening turned to ice-cold dread. He wanted someone who wasn't real. Someone I could only be for a few hours under a cursed moon.

And I was falling in love with someone who could never truly love me back.