Chapter 1

The silver light of the full moon bathed the ceremonial clearing as I stood in my wolf form, my fur gleaming like polished sterling in the ethereal glow. Six years. Six years as Luna of the Silvermoon Pack, and here I was, alone at my own ceremony.

The assembled pack members formed a respectful semicircle before me, their eyes downcast, uncomfortable with the glaring absence beside me. Where an Alpha should stand. Where *my mate* should stand.

I kept my muzzle high, my posture regal despite the hollow ache spreading through my chest. My wolf, Silver, growled low in my mind.

*He's not coming. Again.*

*I know,* I responded silently. *We'll handle this as we always do.*

With deliberate grace, I shifted back to my human form, the silver dress I'd carefully selected for tonight's celebration materializing with me. The fabric shimmered in the moonlight, catching the glow like liquid mercury against my skin.

"Thank you all for gathering to honor the Luna Ceremony tonight," I addressed the pack, my voice steady despite the humiliation burning beneath my composed exterior. "Six years of service to this pack has been my greatest privilege."

Lies. Not complete lies—I did take pride in my service—but the greatest privilege should have been my mate bond, not the political position it had granted me.

I approached the ceremonial table where the moon cake waited, its silver frosting catching the light. Tradition dictated that the Alpha and Luna cut it together, their joined hands symbolizing their united leadership.

I felt the weight of dozens of eyes as I lifted the ceremonial silver knife alone.

"Luna Victoria," Beta Elias's voice came softly from my right, his eyes filled with concern. "Would you like me to—"

"No," I said firmly, offering him a small smile. "I'll proceed as tradition demands."

I sliced through the cake, the knife making a decisive cut. Like the division in my mate bond. Like the growing chasm between Marcus and me.

The pack members exchanged uneasy glances. I caught whispers, quickly hushed.

"Third ceremony he's missed..."

"The Alpha wouldn't dare if it were anyone else..."

"She deserves better..."

I pretended not to hear as I distributed the first ceremonial pieces to the pack elders. My hands didn't shake. My smile didn't falter. Six years of practice had made me an expert at maintaining appearances.

After the ceremony concluded, Elder Seraphina Mooncrest approached me, her ancient eyes holding wisdom and something that looked dangerously like pity.

"You honored us beautifully tonight, Luna," she said, her weathered hand resting gently on my forearm. "I'm sorry the Alpha couldn't attend."

"Pack business must always come first," I replied automatically, the excuse so familiar it felt like reciting a prayer.

Seraphina's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that what we're calling boundary patrol with the new rogue these days? Pack business?"

My heart stuttered. "Marcus is on patrol?"

"With that Martinez girl," Seraphina confirmed, her voice dropping to ensure privacy. "He personally volunteered to show her the territory lines. Quite unusual for an Alpha to handle such a routine task."

Something cold and sharp twisted in my chest. Isabella Martinez. The supposedly humble rogue who'd arrived three weeks ago with sad eyes and a tragic story about being the sole survivor of the disbanded Moonvalley Pack.

"I see," I said, keeping my voice neutral even as Silver snarled within me.

"You might want to visit the council hall before returning to your quarters," Seraphina added, her meaning clear in her knowing gaze.

I thanked her and made my way to the council hall, my heels clicking against the stone floors of our pack house. The moment I pushed open the heavy wooden doors, I caught it—a lingering scent that didn't belong. Sweet, cloying, like vanilla and jasmine mixed with something deliberately seductive.

Isabella's perfume.

Silver bristled. *She was here. In our space. Where pack decisions are made.*

I ran my fingers along the large territorial map spread across the council table, noticing subtle disturbances in the dust. Someone had been studying our borders, our weaknesses.

Hours later, I sat alone in my private study, tracing the territorial boundaries with my finger as I had countless times before. The lamp cast long shadows across the maps and documents I'd organized meticulously over six years of service.

Six years of covering for Marcus's shortcomings.

Six years of negotiating treaties he took credit for.

Six years of silent dignity while he resented the very bond that gave him power.

*We've reached our limit,* Silver growled in my mind. *No more.*

I stared at the map, at the empire I had helped build while my mate's resentment festered. At the legacy I had protected while he sought comfort elsewhere.

"No more," I whispered aloud, feeling something shift inside me—a dam breaking after years of pressure.

The dutiful, silent Luna was done waiting for a mate who would never truly see her.

It was time to show them exactly who Victoria Blackwood really was.