The Imposter Called Me Worthless Until I Revealed My Crown

The moment that woman’s manicured fingers—nails lacquered the color of arterial blood—closed around my family crest ring and ripped it from my hand in the middle of Grayraven Spaceport’s VIP terminal, I knew three things with absolute certainty: she had no idea who I was, she was about to regret every breath she’d taken in the last five minutes, and the man standing behind her—the one whose private number I’d just dialed—had some explaining to do.

“You just tore it off my hand.” I kept my voice level, the way I’d learned to speak when addressing panicked soldiers on the Northern front. Calm. Measured. The kind of quiet that preceded artillery fire. “What gives you the right to accuse me of stealing?”

She laughed—a practiced, tinkling sound that scraped against my eardrums like shrapnel on bone. She held up the ring, letting the terminal’s harsh fluorescent lights catch the golden thorns emblazoned on its surface. The symbol of House Voss. My house. My blood. Six generations of wolves who’d bled for this Empire, reduced to a prop in her performance.

“Because this ring bears the symbol of House Voss.” She made a show of examining it, turning it this way and that. “And I am the fiancée of Damon Voss, heir to the family—Evelyn Lore.”

She emphasized his name like she was presenting a trophy. Like the syllables themselves could wound me.

I studied her face. Heart-shaped, conventionally pretty, with the kind of practiced pout that suggested she’d spent more time in front of mirrors than I’d spent in combat training. Her omega scent was cloying—artificial sweetness layered over something sharper. Desperation, maybe. Or ambition.

“In the Imperial Capital, the Voss Consortium is the law,” she continued, her voice rising to ensure the gathering crowd could hear every word. “You had the nerve to steal my ring. I’ll make sure you can’t survive anywhere in this Empire.”

I let the silence stretch for three heartbeats. Then I pulled out my communicator and dialed the private line I’d memorized years ago—back when the man who owned it had promised me forever under a blood moon.

“Someone here is claiming to be your fiancée.” I spoke clearly, loud enough for Evelyn to hear. “She took the Voss family ring and says your consortium is the law of the Empire. Is that true?”

The automated response cut through the terminal like a blade: “We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

My brow furrowed. That number had worked three days ago when I’d called to confirm my return date. Something had changed.

“Oh, pretending to make a call?” Evelyn’s laugh turned sharp, triumphant. “I don’t know where you stole Damon’s private number, but he would never answer a call from some random stranger. If you think this little stunt will get you an introduction to him, dream on.”

She reached for my communicator. I swatted her hand away on instinct—the same reflex that had saved my life in a dozen firefights.

Evelyn stumbled back, her eyes widening with genuine shock. Clearly, no one had ever denied her anything.

“You dare lay hands on me?!” Her voice exploded through the terminal. “A stray wolf dares to touch me?!”

Stray wolf. The insult landed harder than she knew. In the Northern Legion, we wore that name with pride—wolves who’d chosen duty over pack politics, who’d earned our ranks through blood and sacrifice rather than birthright.

But she didn’t mean it as a compliment.

“I will make you pay for this!” She clutched the ring—my ring—and spun toward the service counter. The crack of metal against polished stone made the attendant flinch.

“Where is your security?!” Evelyn jabbed a finger in my direction. “Get someone over here and arrest this thieving stray!”

The attendant—a young beta male with nervous eyes—hesitated. His gaze darted between me and the ring, and I saw recognition flicker across his face. He’d been the one to check my credentials when I arrived. He’d seen the ring on my finger.

“Miss Lore,” he said carefully, “this passenger is registered as a VIP guest. I just saw... she appeared to be wearing that ring... Could there be some misunderstanding?”

“Misunderstanding?” Evelyn’s volume spiked. “She stole my ring and put it on her own finger. What misunderstanding could there possibly be? And you dare speak up for this stray?”

She slapped the counter and leaned in, looming over the attendant like a predator cornering prey.

“Do you have any idea how much the Voss Consortium invests in this port every year?”

The attendant’s face went white.

“If you can’t even be bothered to deal with someone who’s desecrated the Voss name, I’ll call your general manager right now!” She lifted her chin, her tone dripping with practiced arrogance. “You bottom-feeders should remember who signs your paychecks.”

I watched her bully a defenseless worker over nothing but her own assumptions and ego. The last thread of my patience snapped.

Just as Evelyn raised her hand to shove the attendant’s shoulder, I stepped forward and caught her wrist. She struggled violently, but my grip held firm. Three years of hand-to-hand combat training against vampire raiders had given me strength that her pampered lifestyle couldn’t match.

“Do you have any idea what this ring signifies?” I said coldly. “You’re the first person who’s ever tried to take something from me.”

“Of course I do!” She wrenched her hand free and stumbled back, looking like an affronted noblewoman in a period drama. “It’s the symbol of the future wife of the Voss heir.”

She adjusted her sleeve and made a show of smoothing her hair. “I am the fiancée Damon Voss personally chose.”

“And what about you?” Her eyes raked over me, cataloging my travel-worn clothes, my practical boots, the faint scar on my jaw from a close call with a vampire’s blade. “A stray wolf fresh off the Northern battlefields, reeking of blood and coarse habits—and you had the gall to steal my ring?”

She scoffed. “Cross me, and one word from me will end your military career for good.”

I watched her, expression unchanged. The louder she got, the bigger the crowd grew. Their whispers didn’t escape my hearing—enhanced senses were one of the few gifts my bloodline had given me.

“Is that her? I heard some random passenger accidentally bumped into her once, and she got them banned from flying for three months.”

“She throws her weight around because the Voss heir dotes on her. She can escalate anything straight to management.”

“An omega like that... truly terrifying.”

“If she says the ring is hers, then it’s hers. Who else would be allowed to touch a Voss family heirloom?”

The murmurs began tilting against me. Evelyn basked in the commentary, her smugness growing with each whispered condemnation.

She raised her chin and looked down at me like an empress surveying a peasant.

“Do you finally understand what you are?” She spread her hands. “I’ll give you one chance. Kneel and beg for my forgiveness right now, and I might consider pardoning your offense. House Voss might even let the matter drop.”

Kneel.

The word echoed in my head, mixing with memories of the Northern front—of soldiers who’d knelt before me in respect, of enemies who’d knelt in surrender, of the moment I’d knelt before the Emperor himself to receive my commission as the youngest commander in Legion history.

I let out a derisive laugh. “If the Voss family were truly worthy of their noble status, why would they choose someone like you—someone who doesn’t even grasp basic courtesy or respect—as a fiancée? You’re nothing but damaged goods.”

Her face flushed crimson. “Who are you calling damaged?! I’ll teach you a lesson today!”

She grabbed a decorative piece from the counter and hurled it at me. I dodged easily, caught the hand reaching for another object, and twisted—hard.

The crack of a dislocating wrist accompanied her piercing scream. As she hopped in pain, I casually released my grip.

“Ah! Damn you! You actually twisted my—it hurts, you damned stray!” Her shrieks were laced with curses. “Someone! Seize her!”

The commotion drew an even larger crowd. Moments later, several uniformed staff members rushed over to restore order.

Evelyn cradled her arm, unable to bring herself to touch her wrist. She gasped for breath, cowering behind the staff, her eyes venomous. “Once I tell Damon about this, you’re dead! He’ll avenge me!”

I crossed my arms and watched her defensive posture. “Fine. I’ll be waiting for his revenge.”

A man pushed through the crowd—tall, dark-haired, with the kind of chiseled features that graced magazine covers and haunted my dreams for three frozen years. His scent hit me before I saw his face. Alpha. Powerful. Familiar as my own heartbeat.

Damon Voss.

My fated mate.

The man who’d promised me the moon and stars three years ago, who’d traced constellations on my bare shoulder and sworn we were written in the same cosmic ink. The man who’d sent me to the Northern front with a kiss that tasted like forever and a vow to wait until the stars burned out.

The man who apparently now had a fiancée.

His eyes found mine across the terminal, and for one frozen moment—a heartbeat stretched into eternity—I saw something flicker in their depths. Recognition. Confusion. And something that might have been fear, raw and primal, like a wolf scenting a predator it had forgotten existed.

Then his gaze slid to Evelyn, to her injured wrist, to the ring clutched in her good hand.

“Damon!” Evelyn’s voice turned syrupy sweet despite her pain. “This woman attacked me! She tried to steal our family ring!”

Our family ring.

I watched Damon’s face carefully, searching for any sign of the man I’d loved. The man who’d traced the lines of my palm and told me our fates were intertwined. The man who’d whispered that no matter what happened, he’d never let anyone come between us.

His jaw tightened. His eyes hardened.

And when he spoke, his voice was cold enough to freeze the blood in my veins.

“Security. Detain this woman for assault and attempted theft.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. Not because they hurt—I’d survived worse—but because of what they revealed.

He didn’t recognize me.

Or worse.

He was pretending not to.

As security officers moved toward me, I felt something shift in my chest. Not heartbreak—that would come later, in the quiet hours when the moon hung low and memories clawed their way out of the dark. No, this was something older. Darker. Ancient as the first wolf who’d howled at the stars and demanded the universe answer.

The wolf inside me raised its head. Bared its teeth.

I’d spent three years defending the Empire’s borders. I’d bled for this family’s safety—bled until the snow turned crimson and my hands forgot what warmth felt like. I’d turned down promotions and transfers to stay close enough to return when my tour ended.

And this was my welcome home.

Fine.

If Damon Voss wanted to play this game, I’d show him exactly what kind of opponent he’d chosen.

I smiled—the same smile I wore before leading a charge into enemy territory. The smile that made vampire lords hesitate and hardened soldiers pray.

“By all means,” I said softly. “Detain me. But you might want to check with Imperial Military Command first.”

I pulled out my military ID and held it up for everyone to see.

The terminal fell silent.

Because the name on that ID wasn’t just any soldier’s name.

It was the name of the Empire’s most decorated commander.

The name of a woman who’d single-handedly turned the tide of three major battles—who’d stood in the breach when the lines broke and refused to let the darkness win.

The name that made generals salute and enemies flee.

And most importantly—the name of the Emperor’s own goddaughter.

Selena Voss.

The true heir to House Voss.

The woman Damon had apparently forgotten existed.

The woman who was about to remind him—remind them all—exactly what it meant to cross a wolf who’d learned to hunt in the dark.

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