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."

The room fell silent as my claws dug into Elder Cordelia's throat. Her eyes widened in shock—no one had ever dared touch a Council member this way.

Before I could tighten my grip, a vice-like hand closed around my neck from behind. Gideon's scent—expensive cologne and cold fury—washed over me as he yanked me backward.

"Control yourself," he hissed in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

I struggled against his grip, but his fingers only tightened. "She insulted my mother!"

"And you've embarrassed us all," he growled, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave that made my wolf whimper.

With a swift motion, he turned me to face him, his hand still locked around my throat. The ballroom had gone completely silent, hundreds of eyes watching our confrontation.

"Kneel," Gideon commanded, his Alpha Voice crashing over me like a physical wave.

My knees buckled against my will, my body betraying me as I dropped to the polished floor. The blue gown pooled around me, and I felt something tear as I fought against the command.

"I apologize for my mate's behavior," Gideon announced to the room, his voice carrying effortlessly. "She is clearly poorly bred and in need of proper training."

Humiliation burned through me as whispers rippled through the crowd. Bonnie stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

"The Omega quarters would be more suitable for her tonight," she suggested sweetly. "Until she learns her place."

Gideon's fingers dug deeper into my neck as he leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "You've made your choice, Margo. Now face the consequences."

* * *

The Omega quarters were located in the basement of the pack house—a stark contrast to the luxury above. Concrete walls wept with moisture, and the air reeked of mildew and despair.

"Home sweet home," the guard sneered as he shoved me through the door.

My designer gown had been replaced with a gray shift that scratched against my skin. The silver collar around my ankle had been supplemented with heavy chains that limited my movement to a few feet in any direction.

I sank onto the narrow cot, my wolf uncharacteristically silent within me. Usually, she raged against confinement, but now I felt only emptiness where her presence should be.

"Your dinner," a timid voice whispered hours later.

I looked up to see a young Omega—no more than sixteen—slipping a plate of scraps through the bars of my cell. Her eyes were downcast, her movements nervous.

"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.

She startled at my words, as if no one had spoken to her kindly in years. "I'm Tally," she whispered. "I clean the Council rooms."

I devoured the meager meal, watching her fidget with her apron. "What's happening upstairs?"

"The Council meeting," she said, her voice barely audible. "They're voting tonight. On your assets."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"Your bloodline rights," Tally explained, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "They're transferring them to Alpha Hughes tonight. My master said it's a formality now."

The food turned to ash in my mouth. Tonight. They were doing it tonight.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

Tally's eyes finally met mine, and I saw a flicker of defiance there. "Because no one should be treated like property."

* * *

I waited until the guard's footsteps faded down the corridor before acting. The shard of glass I'd hidden in my palm had drawn blood, but it was worth it.

With careful movements, I sawed through the chains binding me to the wall. The silver collar around my ankle was another matter—it would take more than glass to break that.

When the guard returned, I was ready. As he unlocked my cell door, I lunged forward, driving the shard into his temple. He crumpled without a sound.

I stripped his uniform, tearing it into strips to bind his wrists and gag him. His keys gave me access to the service stairs that would lead me back upstairs.

The silver collar burned against my skin as I climbed, each step sending waves of nausea through me. Blood dripped from where I'd tried to pry it loose, leaving a trail of red footprints behind me.

Instead of heading for freedom, I turned toward the Council Room. If they wanted my bloodline rights so badly, I would give them something to remember me by.

The corridor outside the Council Room was deserted—all available guards had been posted elsewhere, confident in my imprisonment.

I pressed my ear against the heavy oak door, hearing voices within. Elder Cordelia's distinctive cold tone carried through the wood.

"...and once the transfer is complete, we can proceed with the next phase."

My hand closed around the door handle as rage flooded through me. They had taken everything from me—my freedom, my dignity, my future.

But they would not take my revenge.

With a snarl of defiance, I shoved open the door, blood dripping from my ankle onto the polished floor as I faced the shocked Council members within.