The moon hung heavy and full in the sky, casting a silver glow over the Blood Moon Pack grounds. Tonight was the Mate Ceremony, the most sacred night of the year, and my hands wouldn't stop trembling. I smoothed down the front of my simple white dress for the hundredth time. I had sewn it myself, stitch by careful stitch, praying that tonight, after seven long years of waiting, Alpha Dante would finally claim me properly.

Everyone said Omegas were weak. They said we were meant to serve, to bow, to disappear into the background. But for seven years, Dante had kept me by his side. He hadn't marked me—not yet—but he called me his chosen. He let me sleep in his bed, let me soothe his rages, let me believe that I mattered. Tonight, I thought, tonight he would finally give me the Moon Flower. Tonight, I would become his Luna.

"Nervous, Dalia?" a voice sneered behind me.

I turned to see Gamma Marcus, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't quite place. Malice? Pity? "It's a big night, Gamma," I whispered, clutching my hands together to stop the shaking.

"It certainly is," he chuckled, pushing past me toward the front of the crowd. "Big night for everyone."

Music swelled from the orchestra, silencing the murmurs of the gathered pack. The heavy oak doors of the Alpha's manor swung open, and there he was. Dante.

My breath hitched. He looked like a god in his ceremonial black suit, his dark hair swept back, his jaw set in that hard, commanding line I knew so well. In his hands, he carried it—the Moon Flower. Its petals glowed with a faint, ethereal blue light, pulsating like a heartbeat. It only bloomed once a year, and it was the ultimate symbol of a fated bond.

He began to walk down the aisle, his gaze intense. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. *He's coming for me,* I told myself. *He's finally going to do it.*

I took a small step forward, ready to receive him. I was standing in the front row, right where he had told me to stand. I prepared my smile, the one he said he liked because it was quiet and obedient.

Dante drew closer. I could smell his scent—rain and cedar—and my inner wolf wagged her tail, whimpering in adoration. I reached out a hand, just slightly.

And then, he walked past me.

The air left my lungs in a rush. It wasn't a mistake. He didn't stumble. He didn't pause. He walked right past me as if I were invisible. As if I were nothing more than a ghost haunting the edges of his life.

The silence in the hall was deafening. I turned slowly, my vision blurring, watching as Dante continued to the very back of the hall. A figure stood there, cloaked in heavy velvet. Dante stopped before her and dropped to one knee.

"For seven years, I have waited," Dante's deep voice boomed, carrying to every corner of the silent garden. "For seven years, I have kept my heart safe for the only one who owns it."

He reached up and pulled back the hood.

A collective gasp ripped through the pack. I felt my knees give way, and I grabbed the back of a chair to stay upright. It was Paige Hughes. The high-ranking she-wolf, the Beta's daughter, the childhood sweetheart who had disappeared and was presumed dead years ago. She was alive. And she was beautiful, her golden hair shining under the moonlight, her smile triumphant.

"Paige," Dante whispered, the tenderness in his voice slicing through me like a blade. "My true Luna."

He held up the Moon Flower. Paige took it, bringing the glowing petals to her lips, her eyes locking onto mine across the crowd. She smirked.

The pack erupted. Cheers, howls, and applause thundered through the night. They were chanting her name. *Paige! Paige! Luna Paige!* No one looked at me. No one cared about the Omega in the homemade dress standing alone in the front row, her heart shattering into a million jagged pieces.

I couldn't breathe. I had to get out. I turned and ran, stumbling over the hem of my dress, pushing through the cheering bodies. Tears blinded me as I fled the garden, the sound of their joy chasing me like a pack of hunting dogs.

I burst into the manor's kitchen, the heavy door muffling the noise outside. I leaned against the counter, gasping for air, clutching my chest. It felt like my ribs were caving in. *He knew,* I realized with a sick jolt. *He knew she was alive. He never planned to pick me.*

"Stupid," I sobbed, hitting my fist against the granite countertop. "Stupid, weak, worthless Omega."

My hand brushed against something cool and metallic. I looked down. It was a tablet, abandoned on the counter near a half-eaten tray of appetizers. I recognized the case—it belonged to Gamma Marcus. The screen was still lit, displaying a group chat notification.

*The Long Game.*

My fingers moved before my brain could stop them. I tapped the screen. The chat opened, revealing a stream of messages dating back months. Years.

My eyes scanned the text, and the cold that settled in my bones had nothing to do with the night air.

**Marcus:** *She's getting clingy again, Alpha. Asking about the ceremony.*

**Dante:** *Let her hope. It keeps her docile. I need a warm bed until Paige returns, not a headache.*

I scrolled up, my stomach churning violently.

**Paige:** *Does she suspect anything? I don't want my homecoming ruined by some crying servant girl.*

**Dante:** *She suspects nothing. She's not smart enough to suspect. She's just a placeholder, Paige. A way to keep the council off my back about needing a mate.*

A sob tore from my throat, raw and ugly. I read the most recent message, sent just minutes before the ceremony began.

**Dante:** *Tonight, it ends. She's just a weak Omega. Once you're back on the throne, Dalia goes back to the servants' quarters where she belongs. Or she can leave. I don't care which.*

The tablet slipped from my numb fingers and clattered onto the floor. The screen cracked, a spiderweb fracture running right through Dante's name.

I wasn't a mate. I wasn't a partner. I wasn't even a person to them. I was a placeholder. A toy. A warm body to use until the real prize returned.

Outside, the fireworks began, booming in celebration of the new Luna. But in the cold silence of the kitchen, staring at the broken screen, something inside me died. And in its place, something cold and hard began to wake up.

The morning sun didn't bring warmth; it only illuminated the wreckage of my life. I hadn't slept, my eyes swollen and gritty as I stared at the ceiling of the servant's quarters. I had been moved there overnight, my belongings tossed into a single cardboard box.

Before I could even process the demotion, the door banged open. Gamma Marcus stood there, a smirk playing on his lips. "Get dressed, Omega. Alpha Dante requires your presence."

I wanted to refuse. I wanted to scream that I knew everything, that I had seen the messages. But the Alpha command still held a terrifying sway over my wolf. She was weak, submissive by nature, and the mere thought of disobeying an Alpha made her whimper in my chest.

I put on the plain gray dress Marcus threw at me and followed him to the waiting black SUV. Dante sat in the back, looking devastatingly handsome in a charcoal suit. Beside him, Paige glowed in emerald silk, her hand resting possessively on his knee.

"Get in the front," Dante ordered without looking at me. His voice was flat, devoid of the warmth I had deluded myself into hearing for seven years.

We drove in silence to the neutral territory auction house. It was a place of opulence, filled with Alphas and high-ranking wolves from across the continent. I kept my head down, trying to make myself invisible, but Dante had other plans.

"Sit here," he commanded, pointing to the chair between him and the aisle.

The auction began, a parade of rare artifacts and enchanted jewelry. I watched apathetically until the auctioneer unveiled Lot 42: The Amulet of the Ancients. It was a heavy, blackened silver piece pulsing with a chaotic, red energy.

My breath hitched. During my secret studies with Wren, the rogue healer, I had read about this. It was a cursed object, known to amplify an Alpha's aura but at the cost of their sanity. It made wolves unstable. Dangerous.

"Dante," I whispered, forgetting my place for a second. "That amulet... it's not safe. The energy is corrupted."

Dante turned to me, his eyes cold chips of ice. "I didn't ask for your opinion, Omega. I asked for your obedience."

He shoved a bidding paddle into my hand. "Bid. Keep bidding until no one else dares raise their hand."

My fingers trembled as I gripped the plastic handle. The price skyrocketed—fifty thousand, one hundred thousand, two hundred thousand. Every time I raised the paddle, whispers rippled through the room. They were looking at me—the Omega in the servant's dress, spending a fortune.

"Going once, going twice... Sold! To the lady in gray!" the auctioneer boomed.

The room applauded politely. I felt sick.

Dante stood up, his Alpha aura flaring, silencing the room instantly. He looked down at me, his voice booming for everyone to hear. "Hand it over, Dalia."

I picked up the heavy box the attendant brought over.

"Give it to Paige," Dante commanded, his voice dripping with disdain. "An Omega has no need for power; she only exists to serve her betters."

The humiliation crashed over me like a tidal wave. Laughter tittered through the crowd. I was just a prop. A joke. With shaking hands, I extended the box to Paige.

"Thank you, sweetie," she cooed, her nails digging into my palm as she snatched the box. "It's perfect."

The drive back was a blur of misery. I stared out the window, a hollow ache expanding in my chest. I thought I had reached the bottom, but Dante was determined to show me there were basements beneath hell.

Two days later, I was summoned to the garden. Paige was holding court with three other high-ranking females, laughing over tea and delicate pastries. Dante stood nearby, leaning against a trellis, watching Paige with an adoration that made my stomach turn.

"Oh, Dalia!" Paige called out, her voice syrupy sweet. "Come join us. We were just discussing the upcoming mating ceremony."

"I have work to do, Luna," I said, keeping my eyes on the grass.

"Nonsense," she chirped. She poured a cup of tea from a separate, ornate porcelain pot. "Drink with us. It's a special blend."

She held the cup out. The steam wafted toward me, and my wolf instantly recoiled. Beneath the floral aroma of jasmine, there was a sharp, metallic tang.

Wolfsbane.

Even a small amount could cause excruciating pain. For someone with a weak wolf like mine, it could be lethal. I was deathly allergic; Dante knew this. Seven years ago, I had broken out in hives just from touching a contaminated flower. He had spent the night putting cold compresses on my skin.

"I... I can't," I stammered, backing away. "Please, Paige. I'm allergic."

Paige's smile didn't waver, but her eyes hardened. "Are you refusing a kindness from your future Luna? That's very disrespectful, Dalia."

I looked at Dante, pleading silently. *Help me. Please, you know what this will do.*

Dante pushed off the trellis. He didn't look concerned. He looked bored.

"Drink it, Dalia," he said, his voice dropping into that Alpha tone that vibrated in my bones. "Don't be rude to your future Luna."

"Dante, please—"

"**Drink.**"

The command slammed into me, hijacking my motor functions. My hand moved against my will, reaching out to take the delicate china cup. My wolf howled in terror, clawing at the inside of my chest, but the Alpha order was absolute.

Tears streamed down my face as I lifted the cup to my lips. Paige watched with a predatory gleam, her chin resting on her hand.

I swallowed.

The liquid burned like molten lead. My throat instantly constricted. The cup shattered on the patio stones as I fell to my knees, clutching my throat. Air. I needed air. My vision swam, black spots dancing before my eyes as my airways swelled shut.

Through the haze, I heard laughter.

"Look at her," Paige giggled. "So dramatic."

I clawed at the grass, my lungs burning, my heart thundering an erratic, dying rhythm. I looked up one last time. Dante was just watching. He stood there, hands in his pockets, watching me suffocate on the patio of the home I used to think was ours.

Darkness rushed in, claiming me, and the last thing I felt was the cold realization that my death would mean nothing to them.

The lingering burn of wolfsbane still scratched at the back of my throat, a constant reminder of the tea party two days ago. I had survived only because I vomited the poison up the moment they left me gasping on the grass, followed by a desperate dose of charcoal I kept in my hidden medical kit. But I was weak. My wolf was barely a whisper in my mind, curled into a tight, trembling ball.

Yet, here I was, smoothing down my skirt, clutching a small crystal jar like a lifeline.

Today was the former Luna’s birthday. Dante’s mother, Evelyn Crawford, had always looked at me with cold disdain, her eyes tracking my every mistake. But I knew she suffered from terrible arthritis in the winters. For the past month, I had spent every spare second brewing a salve of crushed willow bark, wintergreen, and rare moon-blooms I’d gathered near the pack borders. It was a masterpiece of herbalism, a soothing balm that could take away her pain when modern medicine failed.

*Maybe,* a foolish, desperate part of me thought, *maybe if I show her I can be useful, if I show her I care, Dante will see me again. Not as a placeholder, but as Dalia.*

I walked into the grand ballroom, keeping my head down. The room glittered with chandeliers and diamonds, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and champagne. Paige was there, of course, seated at the high table next to Dante and Evelyn. She wore a dress of shimmering gold, looking every bit the Luna she was born to be.

I approached the high table, my heart hammering against my ribs. The conversation died down as I stepped forward.

"Happy Birthday, Luna Crawford," I said, my voice trembling slightly. I held out the jar. "I know the cold weather hurts your joints. I made this for you. It needs to be applied twice a day, and—"

"You made it?" Evelyn interrupted, her lip curling. "An Omega's home remedy?"

"It works," I promised, stepping closer. "Please, just smell the moon-blooms. It's very soothing."

I twisted the lid open, anticipating the sweet, floral release of the rare flowers.

Instead, a pungent, wet stench blasted into the air.

The smell of rotting garbage, sulfur, and decaying meat filled the space between us instantly. I froze, staring down at the jar. The pearlescent cream I had made was gone. In its place was a dark, sludge-like compost, teeming with something that looked like maggots.

Gasps rippled through the hall. Evelyn recoiled, covering her nose with a silk napkin.

"I... I didn't..." I stammered, looking frantically from the jar to the table.

My eyes locked on Paige. She was sipping her champagne, her eyes dancing with malicious delight over the rim of the glass. Beside her elbow, I saw a faint smudge of silver glitter—the same glitter that was now dusting the rim of the jar in my hands.

*She swapped it.*

"You insolent little wretch!"

The slap came before I could breathe. Evelyn’s hand connected with my cheek, the sound cracking through the silent ballroom like a whip. My head snapped to the side, the jar slipping from my fingers and shattering on the marble floor. The stench intensified.

"You dare?" Evelyn shrieked, standing up. "You bring filth to my table? You try to mock me in front of my pack?"

"No!" I cried, clutching my stinging cheek. "It was swapped! I made a salve, I swear! Paige, she—"

"Enough!"

Dante’s voice was a thunderclap. He rose from his seat, his Alpha aura flooding the room, suffocating and heavy. He didn't look at the jar. He didn't look at the glitter on Paige’s arm. He looked only at me, and his eyes were voids of darkness.

"You have shamed this family for the last time, Dalia."

He rounded the table, grabbing my upper arm in a grip that bruised instantly. He didn't drag me out the back way. He marched me through the center of the ballroom, parading my humiliation past the sneering faces of the pack elders and high-ranking wolves.

"Dante, please, listen to me!" I begged, struggling against his iron hold. "Smell it! You can smell the difference! It’s compost! I wouldn't do that!"

He didn't speak. He shoved me out the double doors and into the cold night air, dragging me across the grounds toward the stone structure that loomed on the hill—the Moon Temple.

It was a sacred place, usually reserved for prayer and reflection. But tonight, the cold stone floor looked like a torture chamber.

Dante threw me inside. I stumbled, scraping my hands against the rough granite.

"Since you cannot learn respect," Dante said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, vibrating Alpha tone, "you will learn submission."

He pointed to the center of the temple floor, directly beneath the open skylight where the moon stared down indifferently.

"**Kneel.**"

The command slammed into my spine. My knees hit the stone with a sickening crack. I gasped, tears springing to my eyes, but the magic of his order locked my muscles in place. I couldn't shift my weight. I couldn't stand.

Dante stood over me, his shadow swallowing me whole.

"**You will not move. You will not eat. And you will not sleep for twenty-four hours.**"

The weight of the command settled over me like a lead blanket. My body went rigid, forced into absolute stillness by the power of his voice. I tried to open my mouth to beg, to scream, but my jaw clamped shut. I was a prisoner in my own skin.

"Reflect on your station, Omega," Dante spat. He turned on his heel and walked away, the heavy wooden doors booming shut behind him.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Minutes turned into hours. The cold from the stone seeped through my thin dress, biting into my bone marrow. My knees began to throb, a dull ache that sharpened into agonizing fire as the circulation was cut off. My weak wolf whimpered, clawing at the back of my mind, desperate to move, to curl up, to run.

But the Alpha command held fast.

I couldn't even shiver. I could only kneel, staring at the closed doors, while tears I couldn't wipe away tracked slowly down my face. The physical pain was excruciating, but it was the silence of the temple that broke me. In the quiet, I realized the truth I had been denying for seven years.

Dante didn't just prefer Paige. He hated me.

And as the moon tracked its slow arc across the sky, witnessing my frozen, silent agony, the love I had held for him began to curdle, turning into something dark and cold, matching the stone beneath my bleeding knees.