The morning mist clung to the trees like a shroud, damp and heavy. It was the day of the monthly pack run, a tradition where the Alpha and Luna led the Silver Moon wolves through the forest to strengthen our connection to the land and each other. Usually, I would be stretching alongside the warriors, forcing a smile while Jonas ignored me to flirt with Lacey.

Today, I stood alone at the edge of the territory line, dressed not in running gear, but in sleek black jeans and a heavy coat. The air smelled of pine and impending rain. My suitcase sat next to me on the gravel road.

I could hear them coming before I saw them. The thundering of paws, the excited yips of the younger wolves. Then, they burst from the tree line—huge, muscular beasts in shades of grey, brown, and black. Leading them was a massive timber wolf with silver-tipped fur. Jonas.

He skidded to a halt when he saw me, shifting back into his human form with a fluid grace that used to make my heart flutter. Now, it just made my stomach turn. He was naked, as was custom after shifting, but he didn't seem to care. A few betas threw him a pair of shorts they carried for this purpose.

"Hannah?" Jonas panted, wiping sweat from his forehead. The rest of the pack shifted behind him, confusion rippling through the crowd. "Why aren't you shifted? We're wasting daylight."

"I'm not running, Jonas," I said. My voice was steady, eerily calm even to my own ears. "I'm leaving."

He let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Leaving? Don't be dramatic. Look, if this is about the turtle—"

"His name was Barnaby."

"Fine. Barnaby. I'll buy you another one. A bigger one. Now strip and shift. The pack is waiting."

I looked at him, really looked at him, and felt… nothing. The anger from yesterday had crystallized into something cold and hard, like diamond. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small obsidian knife. It was a ceremonial blade my grandmother had given me, useless for combat but essential for ritual.

"What are you doing with that?" Jonas took a step forward, his brow furrowing.

I didn't answer. I pressed the blade to my palm, slicing a thin line across my skin. Blood welled up, dark and rich.

"Hannah!" Jonas barked, his Alpha tone vibrating in the air. "Stop this madness immediately!"

I ignored him. I raised my bleeding hand to the sky and began to chant. The words weren't in English, nor were they in the common werewolf tongue. They were Ancient Lycan, a language of kings and magic that hadn't been spoken in these woods for centuries.

*"Sanguis meus, vinculum solvo. Ego te repudio."*

The wind suddenly picked up, whipping my hair around my face. The ground beneath us trembled.

"What are you saying?" Jonas shouted, panic finally edging into his voice. He tried to move toward me, but an invisible wall of force slammed him backward.

*"Libertas. Finis."*

I clenched my fist.

**SNAP.**

The sound was deafening, like a gunshot inside a cathedral. It wasn't a physical noise, but a spiritual one. I felt the heavy, suffocating tether that bound me to the Silver Moon Pack tear away from my soul. The sudden absence of their emotions, their needs, their constant draining of my energy, left me lightheaded.

Across from me, the reaction was immediate and violent.

Wolves howled in pain, clutching their chests. But Jonas took it the hardest. He doubled over, gagging, and then collapsed to his knees, vomiting onto the grass. The severance of a Luna bond—especially one forcibly ripped away by Lycan magic—was a physical trauma.

"You..." Jonas gasped, wiping bile from his mouth. His face was grey. "What did you do? I feel... empty."

"I took back what was mine," I said, wiping my bloody palm on my jeans. "My energy. My protection. My loyalty. You are no longer my concern."

A sleek black SUV with tinted windows rolled silently up the gravel road behind me. The driver’s door opened, and a tall woman in a sharp suit stepped out. Aunt Elena. She didn't look at Jonas; she just opened the back door for me.

"Hannah!" Jonas staggered to his feet, swaying. "You can't just leave! You are the Luna! I command you to stay!"

He put everything he had into that command. The Alpha voice rolled over the clearing, a wave of dominance meant to force submission. The other pack members flattened themselves against the ground, whining.

I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. The command washed over me like a gentle breeze against a stone wall.

I turned to face him one last time. "Your voice has no power over royalty, Jonas. It never did. I just let you believe it did."

"Royalty?" He blinked, his eyes unfocused. "You're crazy. You're just a girl from nowhere!"

"You chose a shell over your soul," I told him softly. "Remember that when the winter comes."

I slid into the backseat of the SUV. Elena slammed the door shut, sealing me in quiet luxury. As we drove away, I didn't look back at the man on his knees or the pack that had never respected me. I looked forward.

The drive was long, but my heart felt lighter with every mile. When we finally pulled up to the massive iron gates of the Royal Lycan Palace, my breath hitched. It had been years.

The guards at the gate didn't ask for ID. They saw the crest on the car and snapped to attention, saluting with a precision that the Silver Moon warriors could never hope to achieve. As we drove up the winding driveway, I saw the grand staircase lined with soldiers in full ceremonial armor.

Elena parked and turned to me. "Ready to go home, Princess?"

"More than ready," I whispered.

I stepped out of the car, and the soldiers slammed their spears against the ground in unison—a thunderous greeting for the returned daughter. At the top of the stairs stood a man with greying hair and eyes that matched mine—violet and fierce. The Alpha King.

My father.

I ran up the steps, shedding the last of my composure, and buried my face in his chest. He held me tight, smelling of ancient cedar and power.

"I'm sorry I stayed away so long," I mumbled into his coat.

"You're safe now," he rumbled, kissing the top of my head. "But why the tears, my fierce one?"

I pulled back, looking into his eyes. The violet in my own gaze flared to life, burning hot. "I want to invoke the Law of Retribution, Father."

The King's expression hardened. The warmth vanished, replaced by the terrifying visage of the ruler of all werewolves. "Against whom?"

"The Silver Moon Pack," I said, my voice ringing clear across the courtyard. "For the abuse of a royal daughter and the murder of my kin."

My father nodded slowly. He turned to the captain of the guard. "Prepare the legions. My daughter commands the army until her debt is paid."

I looked out over the assembled soldiers, thousands of them waiting for an order. Jonas thought I was weak. He thought I was just a human-loving girl with a pet turtle.

He was about to learn exactly what kind of monster he had awakened.

The first decree I signed as Princess Hannah of the Royal Lycan Pack wasn't a proclamation of war. It was a simple trade embargo. With a single stroke of a heavy fountain pen, I cut off the Silver Moon Pack’s access to the western grain routes and the southern meat suppliers.

"Are you sure about this, Princess?" General Kael asked, his gruff voice echoing in the war room. "The innocent wolves will hunger too."

I looked down at the map spread across the table. "Hunger breeds questions, General. And questions breed revolution. Jonas needs to learn that a pack cannot eat pride."

A week later, the reports started coming in. The Silver Moon Pack was in chaos. Their usual shipments of imported beef and fresh produce had been turned away at the border by Lycan soldiers. I imagined Jonas sitting in his office, staring at the empty larder, likely blaming the delivery drivers rather than his own incompetence.

According to our spies, Jonas had laughed when he received the formal scroll bearing my royal seal. He told his Beta, Marcus, that it was a forgery. "Hannah is just acting out," he had reportedly said, waving the parchment around like a toy. "She's staying at some hotel, trying to scare me. She'll come crawling back when her credit cards decline."

He didn't know I had frozen those cards myself. He didn't know I didn't need them.

But the most interesting report came from the whispers in the pack house. Lacey was busy. As the pantry dwindled, she wasn't helping distribute rations or comforting the pups. She was spinning a web. She told the Omegas that I was a witch—that I had cursed the pack lands before I left, blighting the crops and souring the milk.

"Only a true mate can save us," she had crooned to the elders. "Jonas and I... we are fated. The Moon Goddess is punishing us because he is with the wrong woman."

It was a desperate, pathetic lie. But desperate wolves will believe anything if it promises a full belly.

Three days later, they arrived at the Royal Palace.

I sat on the dais in the Grand Council Chamber, my father, the King, seated on the massive obsidian throne to my right. I wore a gown of deep violet silk, the color of our house, and on my finger sat the Royal Signet ring—a heavy band of platinum and amethyst that hummed with ancient magic.

When the heavy doors creaked open, Jonas strode in with Lacey clinging to his arm. They looked... diminished. Jonas’s shirt was wrinkled, his jaw unshaven. Lacey wore a white dress that was a little too tight, trying to project purity but screaming impropriety.

They didn't see me at first. They only saw the King.

"Your Majesty," Jonas boomed, puffing out his chest. "I come to seek justice. My pack is being strangled by a witch who claims royal authority!"

My father didn't speak. He just gestured vaguely to his left.

Jonas followed the hand. His eyes landed on me. He blinked, once, twice. Then he laughed. A nervous, confused sound. "Hannah? What are you doing up there? Get down before you get in trouble. You can't just sit on the royal dais."

"Silence," I said. I didn't shout. I didn't use an Alpha tone. I just spoke, and the acoustics of the room carried my voice like a thunderclap.

Lacey stepped forward, her face twisting into a sneer. "Oh, please. Look at her, Jonas. She's probably sleeping with one of the guards to get access. You jealous bitch! You think you can starve us just because you couldn't keep your husband?"

The air in the room dropped ten degrees. The King shifted, a low growl rumbling in his chest, but I held up a hand to stop him.

I looked at Lacey. I didn't see a rival anymore. I saw a bug.

I flicked my wrist. Just a small, dismissive gesture.

Two Royal Guards, massive wolves in ceremonial armor, moved faster than the eye could follow. Before Lacey could draw her next breath, she was slammed face-first onto the cold stone floor.

"Get off me!" she shrieked, her voice shrill and panicked. "Jonas! Help!"

Jonas lunged forward, his eyes flashing gold. "Let her go! She is my—"

"She is nothing," I interrupted, standing slowly. "And you are trespassing in the court of your Princess."

Jonas froze. He looked from the guards to me, then to the King, and finally to the ring on my finger. The color drained from his face so fast he looked like a corpse.

"Princess?" he whispered. "No. No, that’s impossible. You... you garden. You had a turtle."

"Barnaby," I corrected, descending the stairs. Every step echoed in the silent hall. "And yes. I had a turtle. And you killed him because you thought I was weak. You thought I was nobody."

I stopped right in front of him. He smelled of fear and stale whiskey.

"Take them to the holding cells," I ordered the guards. "Separate them. I want to hear them beg in different keys."

An hour later, I walked down the damp stone corridor of the dungeons. The air smelled of mildew and despair. I stopped at Jonas’s cell first. He was sitting on the cot, his head in his hands.

When he saw me, he scrambled to the bars. "Hannah! Hannah, please. This is insane. I didn't know! If I had known who you were..."

"If you had known, you would have treated me with respect?" I asked, tilting my head. "Is that it, Jonas? You only respect power? You couldn't respect your wife, your Luna, just because she was a person?"

"I can fix this," he stammered, his hands gripping the iron bars. "Baby, listen. I'll get rid of Lacey. I'll send her away. We can start over. A Royal alliance... think of how strong the Silver Moon Pack would be! You and me, ruling together."

He was still trying to negotiate. He still thought he had something to offer.

"You think this is about a trade deal?" I laughed softly, a cold sound. "You think this is a tantrum? Jonas, I am reviewing your Alpha title as we speak. The Council is discussing stripping you of your rank entirely."

His eyes went wide. "You can't do that. It's hereditary!"

"It's a privilege," I snapped, my eyes flashing violet. "And you abused it. You let a mistress starve your pack while you played house. You are unfit."

"It was just a turtle!" he yelled, his composure cracking. "All of this for a stupid animal!"

I leaned close to the bars, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "It wasn't just the turtle, Jonas. Barnaby was the catalyst. But your cruelty? That was the fuel. Enjoy the dark. I hear it helps with reflection."

I turned and walked away, ignoring his screams as they echoed off the stone walls. Further down the hall, Lacey was sobbing, calling out for Jonas to come save her.

He couldn't even save himself.