The guards' grip on my arms was bruising as they dragged me through the winding corridors of the Black Moon Pack house. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a desperate prayer that this was some mistake. But the heavy oak doors of Alpha Zayden's private suite slamming open before me told a different story.

"Let her go," came the deep, commanding voice I knew all too well. The guards released me instantly, and I stumbled forward, catching myself against the ornate desk that dominated the room. Alpha Zayden stood by the window, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the fading light, while Gamma Dante secured the doors behind us with a decisive click that echoed like a death knell.

"Where is Luna Veronica?" Zayden's voice cut through the silence, his Alpha tone pressing against my chest like a physical weight. I struggled to breathe as his aura filled the room—pine and musk and something primal that made my knees weak. "What does she plan with those private meetings at the eastern border?"

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Arleth needed her medicine. One missed payment would mean watching my sister fade a little more each day. "I... I don't know what you mean, Alpha. The Luna doesn't confide in me. I just fetch her things and—"

"Don't lie to me." The growl in his voice made me flinch. "You're closer to her than anyone. You know something."

Dante moved to stand beside him, his presence no less intimidating. "We know you're loyal, Cecilia. But you need to understand—this is bigger than just pack politics. If Veronica is planning something that threatens our security..." His voice softened slightly, but the threat remained.

I looked between them, these two men who held my life in their hands. "I've told you everything I know. The Luna meets with traders sometimes. She... she writes letters to someone named E—but I've never seen the full name. That's all. I swear it."

Zayden's eyes narrowed, searching my face for deception. "Not good enough. You're not leaving until we're satisfied you've told us everything."

The hours stretched endlessly as I sat rigid in one of the plush armchairs, my fingers twitching with the need to sketch. Finally, when I could bear it no longer, I reached for a scrap of the Alpha's heavy stationery on the desk and began to draw—the delicate neckline of Arleth's dress, the way the fabric would drape over her frail shoulders.

Footsteps made me look up. Dante had returned from what must have been a patrol. His eyes fell on my sketch, then to the materials scattered around me. Instead of anger at my presumption, something shifted in his expression.

"These are... remarkable," he said quietly, picking up one of the sketches. "You have real talent, Cecilia."

He crossed the room to an ornate chest in the corner and lifted the lid. My breath caught as he withdrew a bundle of silver-fox pelts—rare, expensive, and perfect for the trim of Arleth's dress.

"For your work," he said simply, holding them out to me. "I noticed how you looked at the pelt traders last moon. These should suit your designs."

Our fingers brushed as I took them, and a jolt of electricity shot up my arm—a sensation so foreign and powerful that I nearly dropped the pelts. Dante's eyes widened slightly, telling me he'd felt it too. The mate bond.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. How was this possible? A lowly Omega, mate to the Gamma? But before I could process it, the door opened again.

Zayden stood there, his expression unreadable. "Dinner," he announced curtly, gesturing to the adjoining room where a lavish meal for two had been laid out. "You'll eat with me."

I followed him on unsteady legs, the pelts still clutched in my hands. As we sat across from each other at the intimate table, the mate bond's pull grew stronger. His scent enveloped me—pine and musk and something that made my wolf stir deep within me.

"Tell me about your sister," he said, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard it. "This dress you're making... it's for her, isn't it?"

For the first time in years, someone was looking at me—really looking—and seeing something worth knowing. A dangerous, fragile hope bloomed in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, these men weren't the monsters the pack whispered them to be.

I awoke to chaos. The mind link hit like a sledgehammer to my consciousness, flooding every corner of the Black Moon Pack with panicked energy: *Luna Veronica has been attacked by rogues near the eastern border! She's missing!* The collective howl that rose from the pack house made the walls vibrate, a primal sound of fear and rage that sent ice through my veins.

I bolted upright in the plush armchair where I'd fallen asleep, my fingers still clutching the silver-fox pelts Dante had given me. The sketches for Arleth's dress were scattered across the desk, and for one terrifying moment, I thought they'd been discovered—that someone had seen what I'd been working on in the Alpha's private suite.

But the pack's panic wasn't about me. Not yet.

The door to the suite burst open, and Zayden strode in, his powerful frame radiating tension. Dante was close behind, his usually warm eyes now hard with focus.

'The Luna's been attacked,' Zayden said, his voice clipped and urgent. 'We're organizing search parties.'

My heart lurched. 'I need to check on Arleth,' I said, already moving toward the door. 'If there are rogues—'

'You're not going anywhere.' Zayden's arm shot out, blocking my path. His eyes, usually so controlled, blazed with something that looked almost like... fear? 'It's not safe for an unprotected Omega out there.'

'I can't just leave her,' I protested, trying to step around him. 'The healer's den is exposed if the rogues are—'

'Cecilia.' Dante's voice was gentle but firm as he positioned himself between me and the exit. 'We've already sent guards to secure the healer's den. Arleth is safe.'

Zayden moved to the door and engaged the lock with a decisive click that made my stomach tighten. 'You're staying here where we can protect you.'

The concern in their voices seemed so genuine that I found myself nodding, relief washing over me. They cared—about my safety, about Arleth. Maybe the mate bond was real after all. Maybe I wasn't just a convenient source of information.

'What can I do to help?' I asked, my voice small but determined.

Dante's expression softened. 'Just stay safe. That's helping enough.'

They left me alone again, joining the search parties that were combing the territory. I paced the suite, my mind racing with images of Veronica bleeding, of rogues breaching our borders. But mostly, I thought about Arleth, wondering if she was scared, if the healer was keeping her calm.

The kitchenette in the corner of the suite caught my eye. I'd never cooked for anyone but Arleth before, but the idea of doing something—anything—useful while I waited felt necessary. I gathered the ingredients for a simple pack stew, my hands working automatically as my mind churned.

Hours passed. The stew simmered, filling the suite with its savory scent. When I heard the door open again, I turned expectantly, wiping my hands on a kitchen cloth.

Zayden and Dante entered, looking exhausted. Their clothes were torn, faces drawn. They'd clearly been searching non-stop.

'I made stew,' I said softly, ladling it into bowls. 'It's not much, but...'

The surprise on their faces made my cheeks burn. They accepted the bowls without comment, settling at the small table in the kitchenette.

The silence that fell between us wasn't uncomfortable. It was intimate in a way I'd never experienced—three people sharing a meal without pretense or hierarchy. Zayden ate slowly, his eyes occasionally meeting mine across the table. Dante smiled at me once, a tired but genuine smile that made my heart flutter.

For those few precious moments, I belonged. Not as an Omega, not as a servant, but as someone worth protecting, worth sharing a meal with.

'Thank you,' Zayden said quietly as he set down his empty bowl. 'This was... good.'

The warmth that spread through my chest at those simple words was dangerous. I knew better than to trust so easily, but the mate bond hummed between us like a living thing, making rational thought impossible.

I fell asleep that night on the couch, the silver-fox pelts tucked safely beside me, feeling safer than I had in years.

But morning brought a different reality.

The urgent mind link hit just as dawn broke: *The Luna has been found! She's returning to the pack house!*

I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes, a smile already forming. 'Is she—'

The words died in my throat as Zayden and Dante strode into the room. The warmth of the previous night had vanished. Their faces were closed, distant. Professional.

'Get your things,' Zayden ordered coldly. 'You need to leave. Now.'

'What? But—'

'The servant's exit is through there.' He pointed to a narrow door I hadn't noticed before. 'Use it. Don't let anyone see you.'

Dante stood silent, his eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to meet mine.

The mate bond, the shared meal, the protection—it had all been an illusion. I was still nothing but an inconvenience to be hidden away.

The pack square bustled with activity as I slipped through the shadows, my heart pounding against my ribs. I shouldn't be here—Zayden had ordered me to stay hidden—but I needed to see for myself. The crowd parted like a living wave, their whispers falling to hushed silence as a figure emerged from the tree line. Luna Veronica stumbled forward, her silver-blonde hair matted with what looked like blood, her normally immaculate clothes torn and stained. She leaned heavily on two guards, her face a perfect mask of trauma and defiance.

'The rogues,' she gasped, her voice carrying across the square. 'They ambushed me at the eastern border. I barely escaped with my life.'

The pack erupted in outraged howls. I watched from my hiding place, my fingers digging into the rough bark of the tree I crouched behind. Something wasn't right. The blood on her clothes seemed too dark, too evenly distributed. The tears in her fabric were too clean, too precise. My years of working with textiles had taught me to notice these things.

This wasn't a real attack. This was theater.

I should have looked away. I should have retreated to safety. But I couldn't tear my eyes from the spectacle of Veronica accepting the pack's sympathy, their furious promises to hunt down the rogues who had dared to touch their Luna. The performance was flawless—except to someone who knew fabric and blood as intimately as I did.

Hours later, I was back in Zayden's suite, trying to make sense of what I'd seen. The door opened without warning, and Veronica swept in, her wounds already bandaged, her aura crackling with power. She paused mid-step, her nostrils flaring.

'Do I smell vanilla in here?' she asked sharply, her eyes scanning the room before landing on me. 'Your scent, Omega.'

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. She crossed the room in three swift strides, her Alpha tone pressing against my chest like a physical weight.

'You've been here, in my Alpha's private chambers,' she said, each word precise and cutting. 'With him. And Dante.' Her eyes narrowed. 'Interesting.'

The jealousy in her voice was unmistakable. I watched as her mind worked behind those cold blue eyes, calculating, planning. She knew about the mate bond. She recognized the threat I posed to her carefully constructed world.

'I was detained for questioning,' I said carefully, trying to keep my voice steady. 'About your disappearance.'

'Of course you were,' she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. 'And now I need you. My assistant.' She turned on her heel, her voice honey-sweet but laced with venom. 'Come to my office. I have... questions.'

I followed her through the corridors, my stomach twisting with dread. In her private office, she circled me like a predator, her Alpha tone slicing through the air.

'Tell me, Omega,' she purred, 'what did you discuss with our Alpha and Gamma while I was away? Did they share... confidences? Did they show you... attention?'

Each question was a blade, probing for weaknesses. I answered carefully, but my mind was racing. As I spoke, I felt something flutter to the floor—a scrap of Arleth's dress sketch that must have fallen from my pocket.

Veronica's eyes snapped to it, a cruel smirk spreading across her face as she bent to pick it up. 'So this is what you've been working on,' she said, her fingers tracing the delicate lines. 'A dress. How... domestic.'

The way she held it, like it was something dirty, made my blood boil. But it was the calculating look in her eyes that truly terrified me. She was planning something, and I was the target.