Pain. That was all I knew as consciousness crept back into my world of darkness. My head throbbed with a dull ache that seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat. I reached out instinctively, searching for Jonathan's warmth beside me, but my fingers found only cold sheets.

Three days. It had been three days since the rogue attack that had stolen my sight. Three days of drifting in and out of consciousness, of Jonathan's gentle reassurances that everything would be okay, that we would get through this together.

I pushed myself up, wincing as pain shot through my body. Something felt wrong. Different. The sheets beneath my fingers weren't the silken ones Jonathan and I shared in our master bedroom. They were rough, scratchy—unfamiliar.

"Where am I?" I whispered into the darkness, my voice cracking from disuse.

"Finally awake, I see."

The voice wasn't Jonathan's. It was female, cold and sharp as winter ice. I knew that voice—Victoria Hayes. What was she doing in our pack house?

"Victoria?" I asked, confusion clouding my mind. "What are you—"

"That's Luna Victoria to you," she snapped. "And you'd better get up. There's work to be done. The Luna's quarters need to be prepared, and my daughter needs breakfast."

Luna? Her daughter? None of this made sense. I was Jonathan's mate. I was the Luna of Shadowmere Pack.

"There must be some mistake," I said, struggling to stand. My legs felt weak, unsteady. "I'm the Luna here. I'm Jonathan's mate."

Victoria's laugh was like glass shattering. "Oh, you poor, pathetic thing. You were never his mate. You were a means to an end, nothing more. A convenient donor with the right blood type and perfect vision."

Her words hit me like physical blows. "Donor? What are you talking about?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough," she said dismissively. "Now get moving. You're an Omega now, and Omegas serve. The kitchen is down the hall. Bring tea to the main room in fifteen minutes."

I heard her footsteps retreating, the door closing behind her with a decisive click. My hands trembled as I felt around the unfamiliar room—a small bed, a basic dresser, bare walls. All the personal touches, the photographs, the little gifts Jonathan had given me over our three years together—gone.

Somehow, I managed to dress myself and find my way to the kitchen, trailing my hand along the wall for guidance. The layout of the pack house was familiar enough that I could navigate by memory, even without my sight. The kitchen staff fell silent as I entered.

"Luna Mia," someone whispered uncertainly.

"It's just Mia now," I corrected, the words burning my throat. "I need to prepare tea."

Someone—Sarah, I thought, recognizing her gentle touch—guided me to the counter and helped me arrange a tea service. My fingers fumbled with the unfamiliar task, my whole life having been spent as a Beta's daughter and then an Alpha's mate, never as a servant.

I carried the tray carefully, counting steps, praying I wouldn't trip. The main room was ahead—twelve steps, then a right turn. I could hear voices—Jonathan's deep rumble, Victoria's cold tones, and a child's high, sweet chatter.

Eleven, twelve. I turned right and stepped into the room.

"Ah, there she is," Jonathan said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth that had once made me feel so safe. Now it sent chills down my spine.

I moved forward slowly, terrified of spilling the tea. "Where should I—"

My foot caught on something—a rug, perhaps—and I stumbled. The teacup slipped from the tray, shattering against the floor. Hot liquid splashed against my bare feet.

"Useless," Victoria hissed.

Then, cutting through my panic, I heard a child's voice—not aloud, but through the pack's mind-link, directed at Jonathan but somehow open enough that I caught it:

*Daddy, why is Aunt Mia so clumsy? I can see everything so clearly with her beautiful eyes!*

The tray slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, crashing to the floor. Her beautiful eyes. My beautiful eyes.

They hadn't been damaged in the attack. They'd been taken. Harvested. Given to this child.

"You..." My voice was barely a whisper. "You took my eyes?"

The silence in the room was deafening.

The tray slipped from my fingers, crashing to the floor with a sound that echoed my shattering world. Tea splashed across the hardwood, staining the expensive rug Jonathan had brought back from a neighboring territory as a gift for our second anniversary.

"You took my eyes?" I repeated, my voice stronger now, rising with the horror of my realization.

Silence answered me. Then Jonathan's footsteps approached, measured and calm as always.

"Clean this up," he ordered, his tone so casual he might have been commenting on the weather. "And be more careful next time."

I felt a small hand brush against mine—the child, Jonathan's daughter with Victoria—and jerked away as if burned. The touch of the girl who now saw the world through my stolen eyes was more than I could bear.

"Don't touch the broken pieces, Elara," Victoria said sharply. "Let the Omega handle it."

Omega. The lowest rank. From Luna to Omega in three days.

I knelt, feeling for the broken shards with trembling fingers, cutting myself in the process. Blood mingled with tea on the floor as I gathered the pieces, each one a fragment of the life that had been stolen from me.

Later, alone in my bare servant's quarters, I sat on the edge of the thin mattress, cradling my bandaged hands. The room was cold, stripped of any comfort or dignity. Just like me.

*Are you there?* I called silently into the void where my wolf had once lived. *Please... answer me.*

Only silence greeted me. A profound, crushing silence that confirmed what I'd suspected since waking in darkness—my wolf was gone. Not just dormant or weakened, but completely severed from me. The sacred bond that defined a werewolf's very existence had been cut as surely as my eyes had been taken.

Tears slid down my cheeks, but I made no sound. I couldn't risk Jonathan or Victoria hearing my breakdown. I needed to think, to understand, to find a way out of this nightmare.

I stood carefully, extending my arms to feel the dimensions of my prison. Seven steps from the bed to the door. Three steps across. A small dresser with two drawers containing the plain clothes of an Omega. A sink in the corner with a cracked mirror I would never see again.

Moving to the door, I pressed my ear against it, listening for any movement in the hallway beyond. Hearing nothing, I opened it slowly, wincing at the slight creak of hinges that needed oiling.

The hallway stretched before me, a path I would need to memorize if I had any hope of navigating this new, dark existence. I counted steps, trailing my fingertips along the wall, mapping every doorway, every corner, every obstacle in my path.

Twenty-three steps to the main staircase. Fourteen steps down. A right turn, then thirty-seven steps to the kitchen. From the kitchen, nineteen steps to the dining room. Twenty-six to the main room where I'd dropped the tea service.

I continued my silent exploration, building a mental map of the pack house that had once been my home, now my prison. Each room held memories—Jonathan's study where he'd first told me he loved me, the sunroom where we'd spent lazy Sunday mornings, the garden terrace where he'd asked me to be his mate. All lies. Every moment, every touch, every whispered promise—calculated deception.

As I rounded a corner near Jonathan's study, voices drifted through the partially open door. I froze, pressing myself against the wall beside a heavy tapestry depicting the Shadowmere Pack's founding.

"The Moon Goddess ceremony is in three days," Jonathan was saying. "All pack leaders are expected to attend."

"Will you take *her*?" The voice belonged to Garrett, Jonathan's Beta, his tone dripping with disdain when referring to me.

"No," Jonathan replied firmly. "Victoria and Elara will accompany me to the neutral territory. The Omega stays here."

"And if she tries to escape while you're gone?" Garrett asked.

Jonathan's chuckle sent ice through my veins. "She won't get far. Blind, wolfless, and completely alone—where would she go?"

I pressed a hand to my mouth to stifle my breathing. Three days. The Moon Goddess ceremony would be held on neutral territory—ground where no single Alpha's power ruled supreme. If I could somehow convince Jonathan to take me along, it might be my only chance to escape this nightmare.

But first, I needed to survive until then. And somehow, I needed to make Jonathan believe I had accepted my fate.

I spent the night rehearsing my lies, perfecting the tremor in my voice, the slump of my shoulders. By dawn, I was ready. Broken. Defeated. Exactly what Jonathan needed to see.

My fingers traced the wall as I counted steps to his study. One, two, three... twenty-seven. The door was slightly ajar, and I could smell his cologne—sandalwood and cedar, once comforting, now nauseating.

I knocked softly.

"Enter," his voice commanded, the Alpha tone reverberating through me despite the absence of my wolf.

I pushed the door open, keeping my head bowed, my bandaged hands clasped before me. "Alpha," I whispered, the title bitter on my tongue.

"What is it?" Jonathan asked, his tone clipped. Papers rustled as he continued whatever work I'd interrupted.

"I..." I let my voice break, swallowing hard. "I wish to attend the Moon Goddess ceremony."

Silence. Then the creak of his leather chair as he leaned back. "And why would I allow that?"

I sank to my knees, the ultimate posture of submission. "The Moon Goddess has taken much from me, but I still wish to honor her. To show the other packs that despite my... condition, Shadowmere Pack remains strong and united."

His footsteps approached, and I fought not to flinch when his fingers tilted my chin up. "You think I don't see through this?"

"I have nowhere to go," I whispered, injecting truth into my lie. "No wolf, no sight, no family who would believe me over an Alpha. I just want to feel the moonlight one more time."

His thumb brushed my cheek, a mockery of tenderness. "You always were clever, Mia. Too clever for your own good."

I remained silent, heart hammering. Had I overplayed my hand?

"Very well," he said finally. "You may attend. It will indeed show the other packs my... benevolence."

Relief flooded through me, but I kept my face carefully blank. "Thank you, Alpha."

"One more thing," he added, his grip on my chin tightening painfully. "If you attempt anything foolish, I will ensure your brother suffers for it. Understood?"

I nodded, bile rising in my throat. "Understood."

---

That afternoon, Jonathan made a show of my "recovery" during the morning pack run. I stood beside him on the pack house steps, feeling dozens of eyes on me as he addressed the gathered wolves.

"As you all know, Luna—" he paused, correcting himself with theatrical regret, "—Mia has suffered greatly. Yet her devotion to our pack and the Moon Goddess remains unbroken. She will join us at tonight's ceremony as a testament to Shadowmere's strength."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I could feel their pity, their curiosity, their judgment. Some knew the truth, I was certain. Others believed whatever lies Jonathan had fed them about my "accident."

"Such courage," Victoria commented beside me, her voice dripping with mockery only I could hear. "Though I wonder how you'll manage the journey without tripping over every twig."

I smiled thinly. "I'm sure you'll be there to catch me if I fall, Luna."

Later, as the pack dispersed to prepare for the journey, I slipped back to my quarters. I had mere hours to prepare. The ceremony would be held at the ancient stone circle in the neutral territory between the five major packs. I needed to memorize every detail of the journey there, every possible escape route.

I ran my fingers over the spare linens I'd stolen from the laundry, tearing them into strips. Each one I knotted carefully, creating markers I could identify by touch. With painstaking care, I tucked them into my pockets.

As the pack members bustled about, loading vehicles and preparing for the ceremonial journey, I moved through the corridors, discreetly pressing my fingertips to walls, doorframes, banisters—leaving the faintest trace of my scent. A breadcrumb trail I could follow by smell, even without my wolf or my sight.

"Time to go," Jonathan's voice startled me as I finished marking the path to the rear service entrance. "Remember our agreement."

I nodded, heart racing with fear and desperate hope. Tonight would be my only chance. If I failed, I knew with bone-deep certainty that Jonathan would ensure I never had another opportunity.

As his hand closed around my arm, guiding me toward the waiting vehicles, I wondered if I was walking toward freedom or my final doom.