Chapter 3

The pack house corridors were eerily silent as I slipped through the shadows, my footsteps barely audible against the polished stone floor. It was well past midnight—the time when even the night patrol would be changing shifts, creating a perfect five-minute window of opportunity.

Lyra was alert within me, her senses heightened. *Be careful. If anyone catches us...*

'No one will,' I assured her, though my heart hammered against my ribs.

I reached the security hub—a small, temperature-controlled room filled with humming servers and glowing monitors. Beta Liam's access card trembled slightly in my hand as I swiped it through the reader. The light flashed green, and the door unlocked with a soft click.

I'd never been in this room before. As Luna, I'd never needed to be. The irony wasn't lost on me that my first visit was to gather evidence against the very mate I had sworn to honor and support.

*There,* Lyra directed my attention to the main console. *The mind-link logs.*

Every Alpha had the ability to communicate telepathically with pack members—a sacred gift from the Moon Goddess. But what many didn't know was that the Silverstone Pack, paranoid after a betrayal generations ago, recorded all official mind-links through their security system. Marcus had shown me this feature once, proud of his pack's technological advancement.

Now it would be his undoing.

I logged in with Liam's credentials, navigating quickly to the archive. My fingers flew across the keyboard, searching for any communication between Alpha Marcus Blackwood and Amber Rodriguez. The system hummed as it processed my request.

Results flooded the screen—dozens of exchanges, dating back months.

'Meet me at the sacred pool. No one will disturb us there.'

'Wear that red dress I like. Nothing underneath.'

'I've made sure Victoria will be occupied with the Blackwater Pack's ceremony preparations all afternoon.'

Each message was timestamped, each one a dagger in my heart. But I couldn't afford to feel the pain now. I inserted a small drive into the console and began downloading everything—the conversations, the coordinates of their meeting places, the scheduled times.

A noise in the corridor made me freeze. Footsteps. Coming closer.

*Hurry,* Lyra urged.

The download completed with seconds to spare. I pocketed the drive, logged out, and slipped from the room just as the footsteps rounded the far corner. Pressing myself into an alcove, I held my breath as a night guard passed, oblivious to my presence.

Back in our private quarters—quarters that now felt tainted by Marcus's betrayal—I spread the evidence across my hidden journal. Maps of the pack territory with the sacred grounds marked in red. Timestamps of each rendezvous. Transcripts of their intimate conversations.

'Tomorrow, while she's at the council meeting, I'll show you just how much I've missed you.'

'The Luna suspects nothing. She's too trusting, too naive.'

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them away. This wasn't the time for weakness. This was the time for meticulous planning.

*He took her to our sacred grounds,* Lyra snarled, her rage burning through me. *Where we performed our mate ceremony.*

"I know," I whispered, arranging the evidence chronologically. "And he'll pay for that desecration."

With trembling hands, I reached for my phone. It was time for the call I'd been dreading—the one that would make all of this real.

My mother answered on the second ring, her voice warm and familiar. "Victoria? It's late, darling."

"Mother," I said, my voice breaking despite my best efforts. "I need your help."

There was a pause, and when Selene Sterling spoke again, her tone had shifted from maternal warmth to the steely resolve of the Moonrise Pack's Luna. "What has he done?"

The dam broke. Through quiet sobs, I told her everything—the messages, the video, the sacred necklace meant for Amber, the mind-link logs revealing their meetings on hallowed ground. With each revelation, my mother's breathing grew more controlled, more dangerous.

"You'll come home immediately," she said when I'd finished, no question in her voice. "I'll contact Elder Roman from the Lycan Council at first light. The rejection papers will be drafted by tomorrow evening."

"No," I said, surprising myself with my steadiness. "Not yet. I need to plan this carefully. When I reject him, I want it to destroy him completely."

A moment of silence, then a sound I hadn't expected—my mother's approving laugh. "You truly are my daughter. Very well. What do you need from me?"

As I outlined my requirements—legal counsel, sanctuary preparation, strategic timing—I felt Lyra's savage satisfaction merge with my own growing resolve. Marcus believed me naive and trusting. He would soon discover just how dangerous I could be.

The mate bond between us throbbed painfully in my chest—a reminder of what once was, and what had been irreparably broken. But as I studied the evidence spread before me, another emotion began to eclipse the pain.

Anticipation.