Three days ago.

The leather seat of the luxury sedan offered no comfort to my battered body. I stared out the tinted window. The towering iron gates of the Black Moon Pack House swung open.

I wore a torn, mud-stained shirt and frayed jeans. A stark contrast to the plush interior of the car.

The vehicle glided up the long, winding driveway and jerked to a stop.

I waited.

A minute passed. No one opened my door.

I rolled down the window. Thomas, the pack’s head butler, stood on the pristine gravel. His hands rested firmly behind his back. He didn't move an inch.

"Open the door, Thomas," I said.

"Open it yourself," he replied, crossing his arms.

"I am the Luna of the Black Moon Pack."

"You were the Luna," Thomas corrected, his upper lip curling in open disgust. "Now, you are simply a problem."

"A problem that can still have you disciplined," I warned, gripping the handle.

"Go ahead and try. The Alpha’s orders supersede yours." He stepped aside. "Hurry up. The Alpha’s time is valuable."

I shoved the heavy door open. I dragged my injured left leg out of the vehicle. A sharp, searing pain shot up my thigh. I stumbled forward, my hands slapping against the hood of the car to catch my balance.

Thomas scoffed. He turned and walked toward the stairs, offering no assistance.

I pushed off the car. I forced my head up.

At the top of the grand marble steps stood my husband.

Edward.

He wore a tailored navy suit, looking every bit the powerful Alpha I remembered. But my eyes immediately darted to the woman glued to his side.

Becky. My biological sister.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his bicep. She leaned heavily against him, her manicured fingers brushing the lapel of his jacket. A sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her face.

"Una!" Becky called out. Her voice echoed across the quiet courtyard.

I tightened my jaw and took a step forward. My bad leg dragged over the gravel, the scraping sound loud in the tense silence.

"You look absolutely dreadful," Becky said. She let go of Edward just long enough to cross her arms. "Una, it must have been so hard coming back from the Silver Crest Pack."

"Why are you standing there?" I asked, my voice raspy. I kept my eyes locked on my mate.

Edward didn't blink. He stared straight ahead, his expression carved from stone. He refused to look at my face.

"Don't be hostile," Becky chided, taking one step down the stairs. "Look at those rags. You look like a stray dog. But don't worry. From now on, you'll stay in the Pack House as a maid."

"A maid?" I choked out. "I am his mate. I fought for this pack."

"You got captured for this pack," Becky corrected, tracing Edward's jawline with her finger. "You embarrassed us. We are all family, we should help each other. Giving you a job is our way of helping you pay off your debt."

"Debt? I saved his life!" I yelled. "Edward, tell her to shut up."

He remained silent.

"Edward, look at me!" I demanded. "I survived. I came back. Tell her to get away from you."

"You don't give orders here," Becky said, her smile widening into a cruel smirk. "You failed your mission. You lost your strength. Black Moon doesn't bow to cripples."

"I am the Luna," I snapped.

"You are a liability," Becky countered. "But out of the goodness of our hearts, you get a mop instead of an exile."

I stared at the man I loved. The man I bled for.

"Is this true?" I asked him directly. "You're making me a servant in my own home?"

Edward finally shifted. He pulled his arm free from Becky's grasp.

"Are we done here?" he asked the empty air.

"Yes, Alpha," Becky purred, instantly reaching for his hand again.

He turned his back to me. He walked through the double mahogany doors. He didn't spare me a single glance. Not a word. Not a nod. Just the retreating line of his broad back.

My chest caved in. I grabbed the cold metal railing of the staircase, my knuckles turning white.

"Use the service entrance," Thomas snapped from behind me.

"I know the way," I fired back.

I ignored the butler. One agonizing step at a time, I climbed the marble stairs. Each movement sent a jolt of fire through my knee and ankle. Sweat beaded on my forehead by the time I reached the top.

Becky waited by the door, blocking my path.

"Move," I warned.

"Your uniform is in the laundry room," she whispered, leaning close. "Try to scrub the floors quietly. Edward hates noise."

"Get out of my way, Becky."

She stepped aside, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

I pushed past her and stepped into the grand foyer. The familiar scent of pine and lemon polish hit my nose. The giant crystal chandelier hung above. The velvet couches sat in the exact same arrangement. Everything looked identical to the day I left.

But nothing was the same.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I just needed to find my son. Johnny. He was the only reason I survived the torture at Silver Crest. I just needed to see his face.

I dragged my bad leg down the main corridor.

"Where is he?" I asked a passing omega carrying a stack of towels.

She avoided my gaze, lowered her head, and scurried away.

I pushed forward. Voices drifted from the living room ahead.

"Look what Dad bought me!" a high, childish voice cheered.

Johnny.

A desperate smile broke across my face. I hurried my pace, ignoring the sharp spikes of pain shooting up my leg. I rounded the corner, ready to call out his name, ready to hold him.

He sat on the plush rug, ripping the wrapping paper off a large box. A young nanny stood nearby, clapping her hands.

"Johnny," I croaked.

He stopped tearing the paper. He turned his little head. His bright blue eyes landed on me. He took in my filthy clothes, my matted hair, my awkward, leaning posture.

"Who is that?" he asked the nanny, pointing a small finger at me.

"Johnny, it's me," I said, taking a step into the room. "It's Mom."

His nose wrinkled in disgust. He scrambled backward across the rug, clutching his new toy to his chest.

"No!" Johnny shouted.

"Sweetheart, please. Come here." I reached my hand out, my fingers trembling.

"Stay away from me!" He kicked his feet against the floor.

"It's just dirt," I pleaded, taking another painful step forward. "I'll wash up. I missed you so much, baby."

"That weak, bad woman is not my mother!" Johnny screamed.

The words hit me harder than any silver blade. My arm dropped weakly to my side.

"What did you say?" I whispered.

"My mother is a Luna!" he yelled, his face turning red with anger. "You are a monster! Get out!"

The nanny stepped between us, holding her hands up. "You should leave. You're upsetting him."

"He is my son," I growled, a flare of defensive anger rising in my chest. "Do not tell me to leave."

"He doesn't want you here," the nanny retorted, lifting her chin. "None of us do. The Alpha made it clear you are not to disturb the young master."

"I am his mother!"

"A mother wouldn't abandon her son for months," she sneered.

"I was held captive!"

"I will speak to my child," I said, pushing past her.

"Don't touch me!" Johnny shrieked, throwing the toy box at my legs. The hard cardboard struck my injured knee.

I gasped, collapsing onto the carpet. The pain blinded me for a second.

"See?" Johnny mocked, pointing at me on the floor. "You're weak."

I stared at the five-year-old boy I brought into this world. He looked at me with pure hatred.

"Who taught you to say that?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Someone who knows your true place," a cold voice echoed from the doorway.

I spun my head around.

I spun my head around.

Edward stepped through the doorway. Becky flanked him, her fingers lightly resting on his forearm.

"Dad!" Johnny scrambled past me, his small feet thumping against the rug.

He didn't run to Edward. He threw his arms around Becky’s legs.

"Mommy! That bad woman tried to grab me!" Johnny cried, burying his face in Becky’s silk trousers.

My heart stopped beating.

"Mommy?" The word tore from my throat, raw and jagged. I stared at my sister. "He called you Mommy."

Becky stroked his blonde hair. "It's okay, sweet boy. Mommy is here. I won't let her hurt you."

"He is my son," I growled, pushing myself up onto my good leg. "I birthed him."

"And then you left him," Becky shot back.

"I was a hostage!" I yelled. I shifted my gaze to my mate. "Edward, tell her! Tell him the truth!"

Edward stood rigid. He smoothed the cuff of his suit jacket.

"Five years ago," I pleaded, limping one step closer to the Alpha. "The Silver Crest treaty. We lost the war. Their Alpha demanded a hostage for a truce."

Edward refused to meet my eyes.

"You put me in that car," I continued, my voice cracking. "You held my hands. You told me, 'You are the Luna, you should sacrifice for our people.'"

"Keep your voice down," Edward warned, his tone flat.

"No way," I shouted. "I survived for you! I survived for Johnny! You promised me. 'I will always love you,' you said. 'Everyone will always remember you.'"

"A pack needs peace to rebuild," Edward replied.

"Peace?" I laughed, a harsh, broken sound. "Do you know what they did to me for that peace? They threw me into the fighting pits. They made me battle rogue wolves for sport. That's how my leg got crushed!"

Johnny peeked out from behind Becky. "Losers complain."

My chest caved in. I fixed my eyes on the five-year-old boy. The child I kissed on the forehead before stepping into a nightmare.

"Let’s go eat, sweetheart," Becky cooed, taking Johnny’s little hand. "Dinner is getting cold. The chef made your favorite."

"Steak!" Johnny cheered.

They walked right past me. Edward followed, his broad shoulders tense.

I dragged my bad leg behind them, following the smell of roasted meat into the formal dining room.

The long mahogany table was set for three. Crystal glasses sparkled under the chandelier. Steam rose from the silver platters.

Becky took the seat to Edward’s right. Johnny sat on his left.

They looked like a magazine cover. A perfect, powerful Alpha family.

I stood in the doorway, my mud-stained clothes dripping onto the polished hardwood floor. I was a ghost haunting my own life.

"Pass the salt, please," Becky smiled, reaching across the table.

Edward handed it to her. Their fingers brushed. He didn't pull away.

"Una, what are you spacing out for?" Edward's voice cut through the clinking of silverware.

I flinched. He finally looked directly at me. His eyes held zero affection. Just cold, hard annoyance.

"The basement is your room," he ordered. "Go take a shower. Then clean up our dining table."

"Clean your table?" I whispered.

"You track dirt everywhere," Becky added, cutting a piece of meat for Johnny. "Hurry up. We don't like messes."

"I am your wife," I said to Edward, gripping the doorframe to keep myself upright.

"You are a maid," Edward corrected.

Tears spilled over my lashes. They burned my scratched cheeks. I hobbled into the room, closing the distance between us.

"Why?" I sobbed, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. "Why are you doing this to me? I bled for this pack! I gave up my youth, my wolf's strength, everything!"

I reached for his arm.

Edward stood up so fast his chair scraped violently against the floor. He shoved my shoulders.

I flew backward. My injured knee buckled instantly.

Pain exploded through my leg as I hit the floor. The impact rattled my teeth. I gasped, curling into myself.

"Dad, you won!" Johnny clapped his hands, chewing a piece of steak.

I stared up at the man I loved.

Edward loomed over me. His jaw clamped tight.

"I never loved you back then," he stated, his voice devoid of any warmth.

The words pierced my chest like a physical blade.

"You lied to me," I choked out.

"It is your honor to sacrifice for the Pack," Edward continued, stepping over my legs. "Johnny needs a strong mother. And you are not it."

He didn't offer a hand. He didn't check if I was bleeding.

"Come on, Becky," Edward said. "I lost my appetite."

Becky wiped Johnny’s mouth with a silk napkin. "Let’s go play in the living room, baby."

"Okay, Mommy!"

The three of them walked out of the dining room.

I lay on the floor. The silence pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.

My tears stopped falling.

A strange, hollow numbness spread through my veins. The fire in my knee dulled into a steady throb.

I pushed my hands flat against the hardwood. I dragged my knees under my chest. Slowly, agonizingly, I stood up.

I didn't glance at the dirty dishes. I ignored the basement door.

I turned my back on the dining room.

I limped down the main hallway. The laughter of my son drifted from the living room, mixing with Becky’s sweet, victorious giggles.

They didn't need me. They didn't want me.

I reached the heavy front doors. I wrapped both hands around the brass handle and pulled. The cool night air rushed in, smelling of pine needles and damp earth.

I stepped out onto the porch. The door clicked shut behind me, severing the last tie to my old life.

I walked down the marble steps. One agonizing movement at a time. The gravel driveway crunched beneath my bare feet.

I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I could never stay here.

The dense tree line of the Black Moon territory swallowed the moonlight. I pushed past the first row of heavy oaks, the shadows wrapping around my battered body.

A twig snapped loudly to my left.

I froze.

Low growls vibrated through the underbrush. Yellow eyes flashed in the darkness, circling me, blocking my path forward.

I was entirely alone, injured, and completely unarmed. And the wolves stepping out of the shadows did not carry the scent of the Black Moon Pack.