Last lifetime, my mate, Kael, had faked his own death just to openly sleep with his sister-in-law without judgment.
I screamed until my throat bled, pointing at the man pretending to be his dead twin brother.
For telling the truth, he dragged me to the sacred altar and burned my mark off my skin, while our four-year-old son was thrown into a pitch-black cell for crying out for her father.
We were banished, torn apart by rogues.
But the Moon Goddess is fair. She woke me up on the exact day of the funeral.
As the pack howls in mourning for their "dead" Alpha, I look at the man hiding in his brother's skin.
I won't expose him this time.
If Kael wants to play a dead man just to play house with his whore, I'll make sure he stays dead forever.
