The guards' grip on my arms was iron-tight as they dragged me across the pristine marble floors of Diamond Crest territory. My boots—caked with mud and blood from the rogue skirmish—left dirty tracks in my wake. The scent of pine and earth that clung to me after days in the borderlands seemed to offend every wolf we passed.

"Could you walk faster?" The guard on my right—a broad-shouldered man with a scar above his eyebrow—yanked me forward. "You're embarrassing us."

I spat a mouthful of blood onto the polished floor. "Sorry to inconvenience you with my existence."

The left guard—younger, with nervous eyes—shifted uncomfortably. "Margo, please. Alpha Harlan said to bring you straight to the holding—I mean, guest room."

"Holding cell," I corrected, twisting my arm free. "Just say it. We all know what this is."

They shoved me through a door that looked like it belonged in a high-end hotel suite. The irony wasn't lost on me—a gilded cage is still a cage. The door locked behind them with a soft click that sounded like a prison gate slamming shut.

I paced the room, my reflection in the mirror catching my attention. Mud streaked my face, dried blood crusted under my fingernails, and my clothes reeked of the forest. Exactly as I liked them.

On the bed lay a document with the official seal of the Silver Moon Pack—my pack. Or the pack that had been mine until today.

"Binding Mating Contract," I read aloud, my voice echoing in the empty room. "Between Alpha Gideon Hughes of the Diamond Crest Pack and Margo Knight of the Silver Moon Pack."

My father's signature was already at the bottom. No consent required from the actual daughter being traded like cattle.

"Pack merger," I snarled, crumpling the paper. "That's what my freedom is worth."

* * *

"Ms. Knight." The Beta's voice was professionally neutral as he led me through corridors lined with glass walls that reflected my still-unwashed appearance. "Alpha Hughes is waiting."

I'd refused to shower or change, a small rebellion against what was coming. The Beta's nose wrinkled slightly as we entered Gideon's office.

The man himself stood behind a massive desk of polished obsidian, not bothering to look up from his computer. Everything about him screamed control—from his perfectly tailored charcoal suit to his immaculate desk to the way he held himself, ramrod straight.

"You're late," he said, still not looking at me.

"I was busy being kidnapped," I replied, leaning against the doorframe. "And you're Gideon Hughes."

Finally, his eyes met mine. Cold. Calculating. Disgusted.

"This is unacceptable," he said, gesturing to my appearance. "You reek of the forest. And blood."

I grinned, showing teeth. "The rogues weren't exactly gentle when they ambushed my patrol."

"I don't care about rogue attacks." His voice dropped an octave, taking on the unmistakable resonance of an Alpha tone. "As my Luna, you will maintain a certain standard of cleanliness and decorum."

The command hit me like a physical force, though not as strong as it could have been. My own Alpha bloodline gave me some resistance.

"Your Luna?" I laughed, the sound harsh in the sterile room. "I'm not yours yet, pretty boy."

His expression hardened as he rounded the desk with predatory grace. "In my pack, order is God, and the Luna bows."

Before I could react, he had me cornered against his desk, his hands braced on either side of me. Close up, he smelled of expensive cologne and power.

"Shower," he commanded, his Alpha tone stronger now. "Dress in appropriate attire. The Council expects a proper Luna, not whatever this is."

I tilted my head, studying him. "You really think a shower will fix this? You think I'll just play your perfect little mate?"

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "You will do exactly what you're told."

* * *

The grand hall of the Diamond Crest Pack House gleamed with polished wood and crystal chandeliers. I stood at the entrance in a gown that felt like a straitjacket, my hair pulled back in a style that made my skin crawl with its perfection.

"Ready?" My father—Alpha Harlan—stood beside me, his hand possessively on my lower back.

"No," I whispered.

Across the room sat the Council of Elders, their faces impassive. Among them, one woman stood out—Elder Cordelia Voss, her silver hair pulled into a severe bun, her eyes cold as she assessed me.

"Proceed," she commanded.

My father pushed me forward toward the contract laid out on a ceremonial table. "Sign it, Margo."

"I won't," I said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

His grip on my arm tightened painfully. "Riley and the rest of your precious border patrol squad had an accident yesterday. Terrible thing, rogue attacks."

My blood ran cold. "You wouldn't."

"Sign. The. Contract." Each word was a threat.

With trembling fingers, I took the pen. As I signed my name, I felt it—a cold snap of magic binding me to a fate I never chose. Not the warm embrace of a true mate bond, but the icy clasp of shackles.

Elder Cordelia smiled thinly. "Welcome to your new life, Luna Hughes."

But as the magic settled over me like a weight, I made a silent vow: This cage would not hold me forever.

The morning after signing the contract, I woke to the sound of my door being kicked open. Gideon stood there, flanked by four Omegas carrying steaming buckets and scrub brushes.

"Your rehabilitation begins now," he announced, his voice devoid of emotion.

I sat up slowly, my hand instinctively reaching for the knife I kept under my pillow. My fingers met empty space.

"Looking for this?" Gideon held up my blade, twirling it between his fingers before tossing it into a box with the rest of my weapons. "All of your... toys have been confiscated."

The Omegas entered, their eyes downcast as they set up their supplies. One of them—a petite girl with mousy brown hair—couldn't quite hide her pity.

"You're embarrassing the pack," Gideon continued, circling my bed like a predator. "Your fighting style is feral. Your manners are atrocious. Your appearance is... unacceptable."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm a warrior, not some delicate flower."

"No." His correction was swift and cutting. "You're my Luna. And you'll act like it."

He nodded to the Omegas, who approached me with their scrub brushes. I flinched as the first touch hit my skin—hard, abrasive, meant to strip away more than just dirt.

"Stop," I growled, pushing their hands away.

Gideon's Alpha tone slammed into me. "Submit."

The command hit like a physical blow, forcing me back onto the bed. I fought against it, my muscles straining, but the mate bond made his commands nearly impossible to resist.

"They'll scrub you clean," he said, watching impassively as the Omegas resumed their work. "Then you'll begin etiquette lessons. Your days of rolling in mud and blood are over."

The brush dipped into a bucket of scented water before attacking my skin again. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, refusing to cry out as they scrubbed me raw.

* * *

Three days of this torture had driven me to desperation. My skin was red and raw from the constant scrubbing, my nails cut to neat, boring ovals. Every time I tried to access my wolf, Gideon's commands would pull me back.

But tonight, I needed to run. Needed to feel my wolf's strength flowing through me.

I waited until the mansion fell silent, counting the minutes until the patrol passed beneath my window. The moon called to me, full and bright, promising freedom if I could just reach it.

I slipped out of my room in sock feet, padding silently through the corridors. The training grounds were locked, but I knew the service paths that would lead me to the forest edge.

Freedom was just beyond those trees.

I made it to the perimeter fence before a shadow detached itself from the darkness.

"Going somewhere?" Gideon's voice was soft, almost gentle.

I spun, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I need to shift."

"You need to obey." He stepped closer, moonlight glinting off something in his hands.

Before I could react, he grabbed my ankle, snapping a thin metal band around it. I cried out as it tightened, burning my skin.

"What is this?" I tried to kick free, but the band held firm.

"A tracking collar." His fingers traced the silver-infused metal. "With a little something extra to keep you in line."

The silver burned against my skin, sending waves of nausea through me. I dropped to my knees, gasping.

"It's for your protection," he said, his voice taking on a false concern that made my stomach turn. "The rogues are getting bolder. We can't risk losing such a... valuable asset."

I looked up at him through a curtain of hair, hatred burning in my eyes. "I'm not an asset."

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're whatever I say you are."

* * *

"Darling sister!" Bonnie's voice dripped with false sweetness as she swept into the mansion's main drawing room. "I've come to help you prepare for the Alpha Ball!"

I stood frozen as she embraced me, her perfume suffocating me. Over her shoulder, I caught Gideon watching us with calculated interest.

"How thoughtful," I managed through gritted teeth.

Bonnie pulled back, her eyes gleaming with malice barely concealed beneath a veneer of concern. "Oh, Margot, you look... different."

"Uncomfortable," I supplied.

She laughed, turning to Gideon with a flutter of eyelashes. "She always did have such a unique sense of style."

Gideon's lips curved in what might have been amusement. "Bonnie has graciously offered to help with your... education."

"Has she?" I glanced between them, noting how Bonnie's hand lingered on Gideon's arm.

"Tea?" Bonnie chirped, settling herself onto the sofa beside Gideon. "You should serve us, Margot. Practice your hosting skills."

Gideon didn't object. Instead, he looked at me expectantly. "Why can't you have her grace? She understands duty."

The silver collar around my ankle seemed to tighten, a constant reminder of my captivity. With trembling hands, I poured tea for the Alpha and his guest, forced to watch as my half-sister batted her eyelashes at my contracted mate.

"Such a good little servant," Bonnie murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

I set down the teapot before I could throw it at her face.

The library had always been my sanctuary. Even as a child, I'd discovered the ventilation shafts that crisscrossed the Pack House—perfect hiding spots when I needed to escape my stepmother's "lessons" in proper Luna behavior.

Now, curled into the narrow metal tunnel above the restricted section, I listened to voices drifting up from below.

"The girl is becoming a problem," Elizabeth's voice carried that familiar note of irritation that always made my skin crawl. "She's too wild, too unpredictable."

"You worry too much, Mother." Bonnie's tone was dismissive, but I heard the calculation behind it. "Gideon will tire of her soon enough."

I shifted slightly, trying to hear better. The silver collar around my ankle burned in response, a constant reminder of my captivity.

"The Council is growing impatient," Elizabeth continued, her heels clicking as she paced. "They want her bloodline voting rights transferred to Gideon immediately."

"And once they're transferred?" Bonnie's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Then we declare her mentally unstable. Gideon can annul the marriage, and you'll be waiting in the wings." Elizabeth's laugh was cold. "The perfect replacement. His chosen mate."

My fingers curled into fists, the metal of the ventilation shaft creaking slightly under my grip. So that was their plan—use me to transfer my mother's voting rights to Gideon, then discard me like trash.

"And if she causes problems?" Bonnie asked.

"She won't." Elizabeth's voice hardened. "Her father has made sure of that. The silver collar will keep her in line until the transfer is complete."

I bit my lip until I tasted blood, forcing back a growl that would have given away my position.

* * *

That evening, Gideon surprised me by inviting me to dine with him in his private quarters. The room was austere—black furniture, white walls, not a single personal touch.

"You look... presentable," he said as I entered, his eyes assessing me with clinical detachment.

I'd been allowed to shower alone today, a small mercy after weeks of being scrubbed raw by the Omegas. "I heard something you should know."

His eyebrow arched slightly. "I'm listening."

I hesitated, suddenly uncertain. This man had been nothing but cruel to me, yet he was my contracted mate. If anyone could stop Elizabeth and Bonnie's plan...

"My stepmother and half-sister are plotting against you," I said, keeping my voice low. "They want to declare me unstable after you secure my bloodline rights."

Something flickered across his face—surprise, perhaps—before his expression hardened again. "And why would they do that?"

"So Bonnie can take my place as your mate." I leaned forward, dropping my guard slightly. "This marriage was never about me. It was about control."

Gideon studied me for a long moment, then laughed—a cold, humorless sound. "How convenient that you would claim such a thing."

"It's not a claim. It's the truth."

"Truth?" He leaned back in his chair. "Or jealousy? Paranoia?"

I stared at him, disbelief washing over me. "You think I'm making this up?"

"I think you're desperate to escape your duties." His voice softened slightly. "It's understandable. Many she-wolves resist their place initially."

"My place?" I echoed, anger rising. "You mean your prisoner."

"If you behave at the Alpha Ball tomorrow," he said, changing the subject abruptly, "I might remove your collar for the night."

* * *

The Alpha Ball was a nightmare of crystal chandeliers and false smiles. Gideon had dressed me in a pale blue gown that covered every inch of skin, including the warrior scars on my arms and shoulders.

"Stand up straight," he murmured as we entered the grand ballroom. "And remember what happens to disobedient Lunas."

The threat hung between us as we moved through the crowd. I felt eyes on me—curious, judgmental, pitying.

"Margo Knight," Elder Cordelia's voice cut through the murmur of conversation as she approached us. "Or should I say, Hughes now?"

I stiffened beside Gideon, who placed a possessive hand on my lower back.

"Elder Cordelia," Gideon acknowledged with a slight bow. "I see you've met my mate."

"Indeed." Her eyes raked over me dismissively. "Though I must say, she doesn't compare to her mother."

My head snapped up. "You knew my mother?"

A cruel smile twisted her lips. "Everyone knew the rabid bitch who thought she could challenge tradition."

The room seemed to tilt around me. My mother—the legendary Alpha female who had died when I was young—reduced to this Elder's vicious insult.

"She got what she deserved," Cordelia continued, her voice carrying across the now-silent ballroom. "As will any she-wolf who forgets her place."

Something inside me snapped. Heat flooded my vision as my eyes shifted to gold, my nails elongating into claws before I could stop them.

I lunged forward, grabbing Cordelia's throat. "You will not speak of her that way."