The weeks following my miscarriage passed in a blur of grief and growing isolation. Each day, the distance between Kian and me widened like a chasm I couldn't bridge.

"I found this in Winter's room," I said one evening, placing a small vial on Kian's desk. "It's wolfsbane extract. The same toxin that was in my tea."

Kian's expression remained impassive as he examined the vial. "Where did you get this?"

"From her bedside drawer. I was looking for my mother's earrings that went missing—"

"Searching through another wolf's private belongings?" His voice hardened. "That's beneath you, Sienna."

"I'm trying to show you what she did!" My voice cracked with desperation. "She poisoned me, Kian. She killed our pup."

Before he could respond, the door opened and Winter rushed in, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Alpha," she gasped, "I can't find my medication. The wolfsbane extract I use for my... my condition."

Kian's eyes darted between us, his jaw tightening. "Sienna found it in your room."

Winter's face crumpled. "You were in my room? Going through my things?"

"I—" I started, but Kian cut me off.

"Enough." His tone was final. "Winter needs that medication to stabilize her wolf. You had no right."

"But Kian—"

"I said enough!" His Alpha tone vibrated through the room, making me flinch.

Later that night, I discovered a folder on Kian's desk—one that hadn't been there before. Inside were photographs of me arguing with pack members, screenshots of supposedly "erratic" behavior. All carefully curated to paint me as unstable.

Winter had been busy.

---

The blizzard came suddenly, dumping two feet of snow on our territory overnight. Wind howled around the pack house, rattling windows and bringing a bone-deep chill.

"Grandfather?" I called, knocking on his door. "Are you warm enough?"

No answer.

I pushed the door open to find his room empty, the bed untouched. Panic surged through me as I raced downstairs.

"Has anyone seen my grandfather?" I shouted over the wind.

Winter appeared beside me, her expression concerned. "I saw him earlier. He mentioned wanting fresh air."

"In this storm?" I stared at her in disbelief.

"He's been confused lately," she said softly. "Maybe he forgot about the blizzard."

I rushed to the back garden, finding the gate swinging open in the wind. Fresh footprints led away from the house, disappearing into the swirling white beyond.

"Grandfather!" I screamed into the storm.

Aria howled inside me, urging me to shift and track him. I kicked off my shoes, ready to transform when Winter grabbed my arm.

"You can't go out there," she said. "The Alpha ordered everyone to stay inside."

"This is my grandfather!" I yanked away from her. "He's wandering in a blizzard!"

"We'll alert the search party," she insisted, her grip tightening. "But you need to stay here."

Something in her eyes didn't add up—a flicker of satisfaction beneath the concern.

---

I woke to shouting. The search party had returned.

"Where is he?" I demanded, racing downstairs.

Kian stood in the entrance hall, snow melting on his shoulders. His face was a mask of grief and fury.

"We found him near the northern border," he said, his voice hollow. "He was already gone."

The world tilted beneath me. "No. No, that's not possible."

"He was frozen solid," Kian continued, his eyes hardening as they met mine. "If you had locked the doors properly—"

"What?" I whispered.

"If you had done your job as Luna—as his family—he would still be alive."

Winter stepped forward, tears streaming down her face. "I told her the gate was open," she sobbed. "I begged her to check on him, but she was... distracted."

"That's not true!" I protested, but Kian's expression had already changed—his eyes cold with judgment.

"You were supposed to protect him," he said. "Instead, you left him vulnerable."

"He's my grandfather!" My voice broke. "I would never—"

"Enough excuses." Kian turned away. "You're relieved of your Luna duties until further notice."

"What?"

"Winter will handle things temporarily. At least she knows how to put the pack's needs first."

As Winter stepped forward, accepting the ceremonial Luna pendant from Kian's hands, I caught the glint of triumph in her eyes.

And in that moment, watching my world crumble around me, I realized the truth: this was no random act of cruelty. This was calculated destruction.

Winter had taken everything from me—my child, my position, and now my grandfather. And she was just getting started.

I stood in our bedroom, hands trembling as I folded my last sweater into the suitcase. The room still smelled of Kian's scent—pine and winter frost—but now it was tainted with something else. Betrayal.

"We're leaving," I whispered to Aria, my wolf, who whimpered weakly inside me. "We can't stay here anymore."

The funeral for my grandfather had been yesterday. Kian hadn't even looked at me during the ceremony, his arm wrapped protectively around Winter instead. The pack's whispers followed me everywhere—the unstable Luna who couldn't protect her own grandfather.

I zipped the suitcase closed with finality. "I need space to think clearly."

The door burst open before I could reach for my coat. Kian stood there, his massive frame blocking the exit, eyes blazing with a fury I'd never seen before.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was dangerously low.

"I'm leaving for a while," I said, lifting my chin despite the fear coursing through me. "I need to clear my head."

"You're not going anywhere." Each word was clipped, final. "You're my mate. My Luna."

"A title you've already given to Winter," I countered, gesturing to the Alpha pendant now hanging around her neck.

Something snapped in his eyes. "She's temporary. You're being irrational."

"I'm being irrational?" My voice rose despite my efforts to stay calm. "She killed our baby! She led my grandfather to his death!"

"Enough!" Kian roared, his Alpha tone vibrating through the room with physical force.

The pressure hit me like a tidal wave, crushing down on my shoulders. My knees buckled against my will.

"Kian, stop—" I gasped, fighting against the invisible weight.

"You will obey me," he growled, stepping closer. "You will not leave this pack."

My body betrayed me as I sank to my knees, the suitcase slipping from my grasp. The pack warriors who had followed Kian into the room watched with wide eyes as their Alpha forced his Luna to submit.

"Kian," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "This isn't you."

"You've been compromised," he said coldly, looking down at me with eyes that held no trace of the man I'd mated. "Your wolf is unstable. You need help."

---

"Section 7 of the Werewolf Health Code states that any wolf exhibiting symptoms of Feral Psychosis must be confined for evaluation," Dr. Morris read aloud, avoiding my eyes as he signed the forms.

"I don't have Feral Psychosis," I said, my voice hoarse from screaming. "Kian is lying!"

The doctor flinched but continued writing. "Alpha Kian has provided extensive documentation of your erratic behavior."

"Documentation that Winter fabricated!" I tried to stand, but the sedatives made my limbs heavy.

Two Delta warriors gripped my arms, dragging me toward the isolation cells in the basement of the pack clinic. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting everything in a sickly green glow.

"Please," I begged as they unlocked the heavy door. "I'm not crazy."

The cell was bare except for a narrow bed and a toilet in the corner. The walls were padded, the door reinforced with silver—designed to contain a feral wolf.

"Alpha Kian wants you sedated until you're stable," Dr. Morris said, preparing a syringe. "For your own protection."

As the needle slid into my arm, I caught sight of movement through the small window in the door. Winter was walking down the hallway, carrying an armful of my clothes.

"Where is she going?" I asked, though I already knew.

The doctor's silence was confirmation enough.

---

Weeks passed in a haze of sedatives and darkness. They kept me drugged most of the time, only allowing me consciousness long enough to eat and use the bathroom. My wolf, Aria, had grown so weak I could barely feel her presence.

"Still catatonic," I heard a guard say one day. "Just stares at the wall all day."

I had discovered that if I remained perfectly still, breathing evenly, they would leave me alone longer. It gave me time to think, to plan.

Today, when the guard brought my lunch, I didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't acknowledge him at all.

"Check her vitals," someone instructed. "Alpha wants hourly updates."

A nurse approached with a thermometer. I allowed my body to go limp in her hands, my eyes fixed on nothing.

"Same as yesterday," she reported. "No response."

They left me alone again, but this time, I had a small victory. The pill they'd given me for breakfast was still hidden beneath my tongue. I'd been spitting out the sedatives for days now, pretending to swallow them while secretly storing them in a small hole I'd made in the mattress.

Slowly, painfully, I was regaining my strength. And something else—something they couldn't see.

I was suppressing my wolf's aura.

It was a technique I'd learned years ago for my acting career—how to appear human even when my wolf was close to the surface. Now I was using it to mask my presence entirely.

They thought I was broken. Catatonic.

They were wrong.

I was planning my escape.