The Moon Goddess Festival always made my heart race—not from fear, but from pure, electric anticipation. Tonight was no different. I stood on the launch platform, my fingers steady on the ignition switch despite the adrenaline singing through my veins. Below me, the entire Silver Moon Pack had gathered in the ceremonial clearing, their faces turned upward like flowers seeking the sun. This was my moment. My art.

I'd spent three months perfecting this finale. Every fuse timed to the second. Every burst choreographed to paint the night sky in silver and gold—the Moon Goddess's colors. As the pack's Delta and head fireworks coordinator, I took pride in making our most sacred night unforgettable.

My gaze drifted to the VIP balcony where Alpha Luca stood. My mate. The bond between us hummed softly in my chest, a constant warmth I'd grown to cherish in the six months since we'd discovered each other. I expected him to smile, maybe give me that small nod he always did before my displays. Instead, his face was cold. Sneering.

Brittany Green stood beside him, her arm looped possessively through his. Her lips curved into something that made my stomach twist.

Something was wrong.

But the countdown had already begun. The pack was chanting, their voices rising in the ancient hymn to the Moon Goddess. I couldn't stop now. My father's voice echoed in my mind—the same man who'd trained Luca, who'd taught me that duty came before doubt. I pushed the unease down and focused on the switch beneath my palm.

"For the Moon Goddess," I whispered, and triggered the fuse.

The world exploded.

Not the controlled burst of color I'd designed. Not the cascading silver sparks that should have rained down like blessings. This was wrong—violently, catastrophically wrong. The charges detonated early, all at once, and the platform beneath my feet erupted in a wave of heat and blinding light. But worse than the fire was the smoke. Silver-laced and choking, it poured into my lungs with the first shocked gasp.

Wolfsbane.

The realization hit me the same instant the blast threw me off the platform. I felt my wolf, my constant companion since I was fourteen, scream inside my mind—and then go silent. The bond severed like a cut rope, leaving a hollow, aching void where she'd always been.

I slammed into the ground hard enough to crack ribs. Pain exploded through my left side, my shoulder, my face. The smell of burning flesh—my flesh—made my stomach heave. I tried to push myself up, but my arms wouldn't cooperate. Everything hurt. Everything was wrong.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard screaming. The pack was scattering, panicking. Smoke billowed across the clearing, thick and toxic. I coughed, tasting blood and ash, and tried to call out for help. For Luca. For anyone.

Footsteps approached. Heavy. Deliberate.

"Silence."

The Alpha Command hit me like a physical blow, crushing the air from my lungs and forcing my jaw shut. I looked up through the haze and saw him. Luca. My mate. But his eyes held no recognition, no concern. Only cold calculation.

"Members of the Silver Moon Pack," his voice boomed across the clearing, amplified by his Alpha authority. The panicked crowd stilled, turning toward him like puppets on strings. "What you have just witnessed was not an accident. It was an assassination attempt."

No. No, that wasn't—

I tried to speak, to deny it, but the Alpha Command still held my throat closed. I could only make small, desperate sounds as I struggled to breathe through the pain.

"Evelynn Lynch," Luca continued, his voice dripping with disgust as he stared down at me, "has conspired with Rogue wolves to murder me and destabilize our pack. The evidence is clear. She alone had access to the fireworks. She alone could have made this swap."

Swap? What swap? These were my fireworks. I'd checked them myself this morning, locked them in the—

The storage shed. I'd left them locked, but Luca had the master key. He'd always had the master key.

Oh, Goddess.

I tried to reach for him through the mate bond, to make him feel my innocence, my confusion, my terror. But the bond that should have connected us felt muffled, distant. And when his eyes met mine, I saw the truth. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Luca," I managed to rasp, forcing the word past the Alpha Command through sheer desperation. "I'm your mate—"

His hand shot out, and I felt his dominance crash over me like a tidal wave. My vocal cords seized. My body went rigid. Every instinct I had as a wolf—even with my inner wolf silent and unreachable—screamed at me to submit, to bow, to accept his authority.

I collapsed fully onto the ground, my cheek pressing into the dirt.

"You are nothing," Luca said, his voice quiet now but somehow more terrible for it. "By my authority as Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, I strip you of your rank as Delta. You are hereby demoted to Omega. You have no rights. No protection. No place among us."

The pack's collective gasp felt like another physical blow.

Omega. The lowest rank. Reserved for the broken, the useless, the unwanted.

Through my blurring vision, I saw Brittany step forward, her smile sharp and triumphant. She leaned down, her lips close to my ear.

"You should have known better than to stand in my way," she whispered.

Then she straightened and took Luca's hand, and together they walked away, leaving me bleeding and broken in the ashes of my own creation.

The servants' quarters smelled like mildew and broken dreams.

I pressed my back against the thin mattress that served as my bed, staring at the water stains spreading across the ceiling like ugly bruises. Two weeks. Two weeks since the explosion that destroyed my life, and I was still waiting for someone—anyone—to realize this was all a mistake.

My fingers traced the raised scar tissue along my left temple, the skin still tender and angry red. The burns had healed wrong without proper medical care. Alpha Luca had made it clear that Omegas didn't deserve the pack healer's attention. My right ear rang constantly now, a high-pitched whine that never stopped. Half the world sounded muffled, like I was underwater.

But the worst part wasn't the scars or the hearing loss. It was the silence where my wolf used to be. The wolfsbane had poisoned our bond, leaving me hollow and incomplete. I kept reaching for her instinctively, the way you might reach for a light switch in the dark, only to find empty space.

A sharp kick to my door made me flinch.

"Get up, Omega." Brittany's voice dripped with false sweetness. "The main hall needs scrubbing. Again."

I pulled myself to my feet, my ribs still aching from injuries that refused to heal properly. Without my wolf, my body was as fragile as any human's. Maybe more so.

The main hall stretched before me like a punishment. I'd cleaned these floors yesterday. And the day before. But Brittany always found reasons for me to do it again. I filled my bucket with soapy water and knelt on the cold stone, my knees already raw from endless hours in this position.

The scrub brush felt heavy in my hands. Everything felt heavy now.

"Oh, look what we have here." Brittany's heels clicked across the floor I'd just cleaned. She wore a flowing blue dress that complemented her blonde hair perfectly. Luna colors. She'd been wearing them more and more lately, even though Luca hadn't officially made her his mate yet.

She paused directly in front of me, her designer shoes inches from my face.

"You missed a spot," she said, and deliberately kicked over my water bucket.

Soapy water rushed across the stones, soaking through my thin dress and pooling around my knees. The cold made me gasp, but I didn't look up. Couldn't. The Omega conditioning had been drilled into me through two weeks of Alpha Commands and pack hierarchy. Keep your head down. Don't speak unless spoken to. Accept your place.

"Clean it up," Brittany ordered. "And do it right this time."

I reached for the mop with shaking hands, but she stepped on the handle.

"With the brush," she clarified, her smile sharp as broken glass. "On your hands and knees. Like the dog you are."

My cheeks burned with humiliation, but I obeyed. I always obeyed now. The alternative was worse—more Alpha Commands, more pain, more isolation. I scrubbed at the wet stone while Brittany watched, occasionally stepping in puddles to track mud across my work.

"You know," she said conversationally, "I've been thinking about your father."

My hands stilled on the brush. Papa. I hadn't been allowed to see him since the night of the explosion. Pack law stated that Omegas couldn't leave the packhouse without permission, and Luca had made it clear that permission would never come.

"Such a shame about the rumors," Brittany continued, examining her nails. "People are saying he was involved in your little assassination plot. That he trained you. Helped you plan it."

Ice flooded my veins. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" She tilted her head, mock concern creasing her features. "I mean, he did train our Alpha. He'd know exactly how to hurt him. And you are his daughter. Blood tells, doesn't it?"

"My father is loyal to this pack," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "He served as Gamma for thirty years."

"Served," Brittany repeated. "Past tense. People change, Evelynn. People get bitter when they're forced to retire. When they see their daughters failing to live up to expectations."

She crouched down beside me, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I heard some of the younger wolves paid him a visit yesterday. Left him a little message about what happens to traitors in this pack."

My blood turned to ice. "What kind of message?"

Brittany's smile was poison-sweet. "Oh, just some paint. Red paint. Looks lovely against his front door. Really makes the word 'TRAITOR' pop."

I lunged to my feet so fast the world spun. "You can't—he's innocent—"

"Sit. Down."

The Alpha Command hit me like a physical blow, forcing my legs to buckle. I collapsed back onto my knees in the puddle of dirty water, my body betraying me even as my mind screamed in protest.

Brittany stood, smoothing her dress. "Your father made his choice when he raised a terrorist. Now he gets to live with the consequences."

She walked away, her heels echoing off the stone walls like gunshots. I stayed kneeling in the cold water, my whole body shaking with rage and helplessness.

Somewhere beyond these walls, my father was alone and afraid, painted with accusations he didn't deserve. And I couldn't do anything to help him.

I couldn't even help myself.

The dish slipped from my hands and shattered against the stone floor.

Pain—sharp and sudden—lanced through my chest like a knife between my ribs. Not my pain. His pain. Even with my wolf silent and broken, the bond between father and daughter ran deeper than rank or magic. It pulsed through me now, frantic and fading.

Papa.

"Evelynn!" The Beta's voice cracked like a whip behind me. "You don't leave your station without—"

I was already running.

My bare feet slapped against the wet grass as I tore through the back gardens. Rain had started to fall, cold and stinging against my scarred skin. My lungs burned. My ribs screamed. I didn't care. That thread of connection in my chest was unraveling fast, and if I didn't reach him—

No. I couldn't think about that.

The forest path to Papa's cabin blurred past me. Branches whipped at my face and arms, drawing blood I couldn't afford to lose. My weak, human body was already failing, my legs shaking with exhaustion after only half a mile. But I pushed harder, driven by the static-filled whisper that kept echoing in my mind.

Help. Please. Evie—

I burst into the clearing and my heart stopped.

The cabin door hung off its hinges, splintered wood scattered across the porch like broken bones. The smell hit me next—copper and fear and something wild and rotten. Rogue scent. My stomach heaved, but I forced myself forward, my hands trembling as I gripped the doorframe.

"Papa?"

Silence. Then, faint and terrible, a wet, rattling breath from somewhere beyond the cabin.

I found him at the forest edge.

The rain was washing the blood away almost as fast as it poured from the gashes across his chest and throat. Deep, vicious wounds that no human—no wolf without their healing—could survive. His eyes were half-closed, his skin gray beneath the mud and gore.

"No, no, no." I dropped to my knees beside him, my hands hovering uselessly over the wounds. There was so much blood. Too much. "Papa, stay with me. Please stay with me."

His eyes flickered open. Recognition sparked there, followed immediately by grief so profound it made my chest ache.

"Evie," he rasped. "Run."

"I'm not leaving you." I slid my arms beneath his shoulders, trying to lift him. He was so heavy. When had he gotten so heavy? "The packhouse isn't far. The healer can—"

"No healer." His hand caught mine, his grip weak but desperate. "Alpha... ordered..."

The words died in a cough that brought up blood.

I understood anyway. Luca had ordered the healer not to treat him. Just like he'd ordered the healer not to treat me. We were both expendable now. Both traitors in his eyes.

Fine. Then I'd save him myself.

I hauled Papa onto my back with strength I didn't know I possessed. Adrenaline, maybe. Or desperation. His weight nearly crushed me, driving my knees into the mud, but I locked my legs and stood. One step. Then another. The rain came harder now, turning the forest path into a river of mud that sucked at my feet with every step.

"Put me down," Papa whispered against my shoulder. "Too heavy. You can't—"

"Shut up." Tears mixed with rain on my face. "You don't get to die. You hear me? You don't get to leave me alone with them."

His blood soaked through my thin dress, warm against my back even as the rain chilled everything else. I could feel his heartbeat—irregular, weakening. The bond between us flickered like a candle in the wind.

I walked faster.

My burns screamed in protest. My ribs felt like they were grinding against each other with every breath. My legs shook so badly I nearly fell twice, catching myself on trees at the last second. But I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

The packhouse lights appeared through the trees like distant stars.

Almost there. Just a little further.

"Evie." Papa's voice was barely a whisper now. "Proud of you. Always... proud..."

"Don't." I choked on the word. "Don't you dare say goodbye."

But his weight was growing heavier. His breathing more shallow. And the bond—that precious thread connecting us—was fraying strand by strand.

I stumbled into the packhouse clearing just as my legs finally gave out. We collapsed together in the mud, the rain pounding down on us like judgment from the Moon Goddess herself.

"Help!" I screamed toward the lit windows. "Someone help us!"

The packhouse door opened. Light spilled out across the wet grass.

And Luca stepped into the rain, his face cold as stone.