The scent of rain clung to the air as I stood before my father’s cold, towering office door. My heart beat like a warning drum, telling me to turn back.

But I didn’t.

I pushed the door open.

He was seated behind his mahogany desk, papers scattered, his brows furrowed in pretend concern. He didn’t even look up.

“Lynda,” he said, like my name was a burden.

“Why did you let Jane go for the Luna ceremony?” My voice trembled, but I stood straight. “That was my place. I’m the Luna. Dante is my mate.”

He finally looked up. The look in his eyes wasn’t fatherly—it was political.

“You’re too emotional to be Luna,” he said with a sigh, like this conversation exhausted him before it even began. “Jane is calmer. Obedient. And Malleable.”

I flinched.

“She’s not even a full-blooded member of our pack—she’s your bastard,” I snapped. “She wasn’t raised with our ways, our strength—she was raised with shame and a mother you betrayed ours with!”

His face darkened. “Watch your mouth.”

I laughed bitterly. “You should’ve watched yours the day you told Mother that she meant nothing, when you brought in another woman. She had a heart attack that same night—remember? Or do you forget the lives you ruin so easily?”

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the sound of thunder in the distance.

He stood, walking around his desk slowly. “Lynda, I’m doing this for the good of the pack. Jane will make Dante stronger. He’s a powerful Alpha—he needs a Luna who won’t challenge him. You’re too… fiery.”

“So this is it?” I whispered. “You’re choosing her? Over me?”

“I’m not choosing anyone. Dante is,” he said, almost smug. “He has eyes, doesn’t he?”

Those words hit harder than I expected.

My throat closed up. “He promised me,” I whispered.

Father raised an eyebrow. “Did he? Or did you assume? You’ve always been good at living in delusions, Lynda. Just like your mother.”

Something inside me cracked.

Without another word, I turned and stormed out, ignoring the sting behind my eyes. The packhouse halls blurred past me. All I wanted—needed—was to see Dante. To hear him say it wasn’t true. That he’d chosen me. That this was a misunderstanding.

I reached the training grounds behind the east wing, where Dante usually spared in the evenings.

And that’s when I saw them.

Dante’s hands cupped Jane’s face as he leaned in, slow and deliberate. Their lips met like it was rehearsed. Like it wasn’t their first time. Like they’d been waiting for the right moment to stop pretending.

I stopped breathing.

My feet rooted to the ground, the wind knocked out of my lungs.

As they pulled apart, I heard him murmur, “She’s pathetic, Jane. Still clinging to the idea that I ever wanted her. I only entertained her to keep the alliance alive. But you… you’re the one I want.”

Jane giggled—sweet, soft, and victorious. “She’ll be crushed. Oh, I can't wait to see the look on her face. ”

“I hope she is,” he replied with a cold smile. “Maybe she’ll stop forcing herself on me.”

My heart shattered into pieces so sharp they pierced every inch of me.

**So it was all fake.**

The long nights he spent holding me under the stars…

The way he kissed my forehead like I was precious…

The way he promised me forever…

All a lie.

He was never mine. I’d just been too desperate to see the truth.

But deep down, I had seen it.

The lingering glances Jane gave him. The way she volunteered to serve him meals, dressed a little too well. The time I caught them alone in the woods and Dante said it was just a coincidence.

I had dismissed it all. Told myself she was like a sister. Told myself he chose me.

I had been blind. Stupid. Just like my mother had been when she ignored the lipstick on Father’s shirt until the betrayal crushed her heart beyond repair.

I backed away, snapping a branch underfoot.

They both turned, and Dante’s expression shifted from cruelty to concern in an instant—as if *he* was the victim.

“Lynda—”

But I was already gone.

Running. Breathless. Lost in a storm of betrayal.

And just as the sky broke open and rain poured down, I collapsed beneath the old willow tree where Dante once promised he’d mark me after our wedding.

My hands trembled as I clutched my chest, trying to hold myself together.

But I was breaking.

And I wasn’t sure there’d be anything left when the storm passed.

The house was silent when I stepped in, but my thoughts screamed loud enough to drown out everything.

I locked the door behind me gently—too gently. Like if I made a sound, I would shatter into pieces.

Every breath I took burned in my lungs, like the air itself was poisoned. I didn’t cry. Not yet. I just walked into our home—my home, I had called it once—and sat on the arm of the leather couch where Dante liked to lounge after long days at the packhouse.

I stared into nothing, clenching my fingers so tightly my knuckles turned white.

I could still see it.

His lips on hers.

His voice calling me pathetic.

The way she smiled like she had already won.

I swallowed bile as my wolf stirred inside me, thrashing beneath my skin. She wanted blood. She wanted war — to fight Jane and tear that smug smile off her face.

But I told her not yet.

We had to stay calm. For now.

The door opened minutes later, his scent brushing against me like a slap.

Lavender and cedarwood. But beneath it… another note. Something faint.

Lilies. Her scent.

I didn’t even turn.

“Lynda,” he called out casually, his voice still deep and warm—like nothing had changed. Like I hadn’t just caught him betraying me with my own sister.

“I’m back. Traffic was a mess, and things were chaotic at the office.” He dropped his keys into the bowl near the door like this was any other evening.

“I didn’t ask,” I said quietly, still staring at the blank TV screen.

Silence.

I could feel his confusion as he walked toward me, expecting me to rise, smile, and bring him dinner like always.

Instead, I stood and walked past him, heading for the stairs.

“Where’s my food?” he asked.

“I was busy,” I said, my voice like a sheet of glass. “Get it yourself.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re always waiting for me when I get home. What’s this?”

I turned to him slowly. “Things change.”

He scoffed. “You’re being dramatic again.”

No apology. No shame. He didn’t even care enough to cover his tracks.

“Is this about Jane?” he asked, as though I were a child throwing a tantrum.

My jaw tightened. “Why did she go to the Luna ceremony, Dante? That was meant to be me.”

He shrugged like it was obvious. “She was better suited. More graceful. Polished. Less... emotional.”

I flinched, my wolf scratching harder inside me now. He knew what he was doing. Every word was a dagger, delivered calmly, as if I were overreacting.

“She’s not even a full-blooded member of this pack!” I snapped. “She’s my father’s mistake, not a Luna. I’m your mate—chosen by the Moon Goddess herself!”

“Stop being jealous, Lynda,” he said flatly, pouring himself a glass of water. “It doesn’t look good on you.”

My heart cracked again.

“I’m not jealous,” I whispered. “I’m heartbroken.”

He didn’t reply.

Just sipped his drink, then looked at me like I was a burden. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Like that would fix everything.

Like a gift or a kiss could erase what I saw—what I heard.

I walked up the stairs, gripping the banister like it might hold me together.

---

The next morning came far too soon.

Dante insisted we go into the city. Said there was an exclusive luxury auction—a showcase of designer clothes, limited-edition shoes, bags, things Luna candidates were expected to be seen in. “Good for appearances,” he said.

I didn’t want to go.

But something in me—pride, maybe pain—refused to stay home and let Jane parade around in my place again.

The event hall was elegant, gold chandeliers glittering above a marble runway lined with velvet chairs. Wolves from prominent bloodlines filled the room. Eyes turned toward me the moment we walked in.

I stood tall beside Dante, dressed in a sleek black dress I chose myself—one that hugged my curves like armor. I knew they were wondering why she was here.

But I didn’t care.

As the auction began, models displayed dresses worth small fortunes, each more exquisite than the last. My eyes settled on a gown that took my breath away—deep crimson, laced with black embroidery that looked like flames licking the edges.

I stepped forward, reaching out to indicate my bid.

“I’ll take that one,” I said.

But just before the auctioneer confirmed it—

“Oh no, I want that dress too!” A voice cooed sweetly behind me.

Jane.

She stood in a pastel pink dress, her hair pinned like royalty, eyes shimmering with fake tears. “Lynda, I saw it first,” she added, her lip trembling.

My stomach turned. The crowd began whispering.

I expected Dante to stay quiet. Neutral. At the very least, *civil.*

Instead, he raised his hand.

“I’ll bid five times the asking price—for Jane.”

The room gasped. The auctioneer stuttered before nodding.

I stood there frozen, shame burning in my cheeks.

Dante turned to me like nothing had happened. “We can get something else for you.”

I looked at him.

At Jane, who was now clinging to his arm.

And at the dress that should’ve been mine.

I smiled—but it wasn’t kind.

It was the smile of a woman who had finally seen the world for what it was.

Broken.

Just like her.

And something deep inside me whispered, This is your last humiliation.

The humiliation clung to me like a second skin.

I stepped out of the auction hall as fast as dignity allowed, the cool evening breeze hitting my face like a slap. My fingers trembled, clutching the clutch bag that felt suddenly useless. My wolf paced restlessly under my skin, snarling, wanting to rip something—someone—apart.

I needed to get away. Far away.

I marched to the parking lot, my chest heaving, and eyes burning. I reached Dante’s car—a sleek black SUV—but my heart sank.

He had the keys.

I cursed under my breath.

I looked around desperately, spotting the guards posted nearby. I could demand another car, maybe, but even that wouldn’t be simple.

As Luna—even if only in name—I wasn’t allowed to leave with just any vehicle or driver due to “security protocols.” If I vanished or got hurt, it would be a political scandal for the entire pack. I was chained by my title.

Chained by a bond that meant nothing to him.

So I sat. On the low edge of the sidewalk. And waited.

One hour passed. Then two.

I stopped looking at the time.

By the third hour, headlights blinded me. Dante’s SUV pulled up smoothly, windows slightly lowered, soft music filtering out—a love song, of all things.

I straightened, stomach coiling in fury and disbelief.

Jane was laughing when the car door opened, her perfectly lined lips curved into a victorious smirk. She didn’t even try to hide it anymore.

“Ugh, Lynda, we didn’t realize you were waiting.” She tossed her hair. “You looked so busy storming off, I assumed you had your own ride.”

I said nothing.

“Dante,” she purred, sliding into the front passenger seat. “Let’s celebrate. There’s a luxury bar down the street. I heard their cocktails are to die for.”

My head turned sharply. “We should go home.”

Dante didn’t even glance at me.

“Sounds good,” he said, already starting the car.

And just like that, I was pulled into a night I didn’t want.

---

The bar shimmered with golden lights, laughter, and high-class perfume. It should have felt magical, but to me it was suffocating.

I took a seat at the far end, away from the dancing bodies and clinking glasses.

I didn’t want to drink.

But I did.

Anger burned hotter than the whiskey I swallowed. One glass turned into three. My vision blurred, but not enough to miss the sight of Dante and Jane on the dance floor—his hands gripping her waist, her arms draped around his neck like she’d always belonged there.

My wolf growled in warning.

Men approached, drawn to my beauty like moths to flame. One tried to slide in beside me, another touched my arm.

“Hey, sweetheart,” one slurred, “you look lonely…”

I turned to him, my eyes glowing faintly. My fangs peeked from under my lips.

“I will tear your hand off,” I whispered.

They staggered back instantly. Humans or low-blooded wolves—they knew power when they saw it.

But still, my rage simmered.

I was still his mate.

And I was treated like an afterthought.

I stood, ready to leave, to scream, to shift and run far away—when the walls shook with a deafening crash.

The doors burst open.

Rogues.

Half-shifted, bloodthirsty, and reeking of death.

People screamed as tables flipped, claws slashed the air, and panic broke like a wave.

I ducked as one rogue lunged at a bartender. Another spotted me and charged, his eyes wild with bloodlust.

I shifted only halfway, letting my claws extend and eyes blaze gold.

He struck.

I dodged, twisted, and drove my claws into his shoulder. Blood splattered. Another one came from behind, raking his claws across my back.

I cried out but spun, slashing his throat before he could strike again.

Glass shattered, fire alarms blared, and smoke thickened the air.

I turned to find Dante—and what I saw made my blood run cold.

He was shielding Jane.

Not me.

She was behind him, crouched, her arms wrapped around his waist while I bled and staggered alone.

A rogue came at me—a big one. I was dizzy now, blood soaking the back of my dress. My legs wobbled as I stood my ground.

I met the rogue head-on. My claws sank into his ribs, but he bit into my shoulder—deep.

Pain exploded down my side.

I fell.

The world tilted.

Through the blur, I saw Dante leap at the last rogue, tearing him apart, fur and blood flying in the air. His wolf growled deeply.

Then silence.

The few rogues who survived limped and fled, vanishing into the night.

Dante stood panting, his shirt torn, and chest heaving.

His eyes scanned the wreckage.

Then they landed on me.

Bleeding. Half-conscious. Alone.

He moved slowly, reluctantly.

By the time he reached me, my eyes were fluttering shut.

I heard Jane’s voice.

“Poor Lynda… always causing trouble, even unconscious.”

And then, the darkness took me.