The ballroom was suffocating again, but this time, the air felt thick with something far more sinister than just body heat and perfume. It was my birthday. I should have been happy. I stood near the head table, my hand unconsciously drifting to the cool, smooth surface of the moonstone pendant resting against my collarbone. It was the only piece of my mother I had left, a tether to the woman whose place I was trying so desperately to fill.

"Happy birthday, June," a voice purred from behind me.

I stiffened. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The cloying scent of vanilla and orchid hit me before she even moved into my peripheral vision. Millie Perkins.

I turned slowly, smoothing my hands over my gown. "Millie. I didn't know you were invited."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She held a glass of dark red wine in one manicured hand. "Oh, your father insisted. He said it was time to let bygones be bygones. We’re practically family, aren’t we?"

My wolf bristled. *Threat,* she growled. *She wants to hurt us.*

"We are nothing alike," I said coldly, turning away to find Lucas. He was across the room, talking to his Beta, refusing to look in my direction.

"Oh, come on, June. Don't be like that," Millie cooed, stepping closer. Too close. "Let's make a toast. To the future."

She lunged forward. It happened in slow motion. Her heel caught on absolutely nothing on the polished floor. She stumbled, her body colliding with mine with surprising force. The wine glass tipped, splashing crimson liquid all over the front of my white silk gown. But she didn't stop there. Her hand shot out, grasping for purchase, and her fingers curled around the delicate silver chain at my neck.

*Snap.*

The sound was like a gunshot in the sudden silence of the room. I gasped as the weight vanished from my throat. The moonstone hit the marble floor with a sickening *crack*, shattering into three jagged pieces.

Silence descended on the ballroom. I stared down at the broken stone, my heart fracturing right along with it. That necklace had survived wars. It had survived my mother's death. It hadn't survived Millie Perkins.

A roar tore from my throat, raw and primal. "You did that on purpose!"

I raised my hand, my claws threatening to extend, ready to wipe that feigned look of shock off her face. Millie shrank back, whimpering theatrically.

"June! Stand down!"

The command slammed into me like a physical wall. My father's Alpha voice. My body froze instantly, my arm locking in mid-air, fighting against the compulsion but failing. My knees buckled, and I fell to the floor, right next to the broken shards of my mother's legacy.

Alpha Hamilton marched over, his face red with anger. Not at Millie. At me.

"Look at you," he spat, glaring down at his pregnant daughter. "Attacking a guest? On your own birthday? You are hysterical."

"She broke Mom's necklace," I choked out, tears burning my eyes. "She did it on purpose, Dad!"

"It was an accident!" Millie cried, dabbing at fake tears. "I tripped! Oh, Alpha Hamilton, I am so sorry."

"Apologize to her," my father commanded, the Alpha tone brooking no argument.

My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. "No."

"*Apologize*," he roared, the power of it forcing my head down. "Now!"

"I... I'm sorry," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. Humiliation burned hotter than the wine soaking my dress. I looked up to see Lucas watching from the crowd. He didn't move. He didn't step forward to defend his mate. He just watched, his face an unreadable mask.

***

I couldn't stay in that house. The walls were closing in, the whispers of the pack members crawling over my skin like insects. *Unstable. Emotional. Weak.*

I stripped off the ruined dress and pulled on dark leggings and a hoodie. I needed air. I needed to breathe.

I slipped out the back servants' entrance, heading for the tree line. The cool night air usually calmed my wolf, but tonight she was pacing, agitated and whining. We walked for what felt like hours, circling the perimeter of the pack grounds, until a familiar scent stopped me dead in my tracks.

Pine and rain. Lucas.

He wasn't in our bedroom. He was out here, near the old training grounds. But beneath his scent was that sickly sweet vanilla.

I moved silently, my training on the Northern border taking over. I became a shadow, drifting through the underbrush until I reached the edge of a small clearing. The moon was full, casting a spotlight on the two figures standing near the old oak tree.

Lucas had his back against the bark, and Millie was pressed against him, her hands resting on his chest. My chest constricted, squeezing the air from my lungs.

"I can't take much more of this, Lucas," Millie whispered, her voice carrying in the still night air. "She looked ready to kill me tonight."

"She won't touch you," Lucas murmured, his hand stroking her hair. The tenderness in his touch was a knife to my gut. He never touched me like that anymore. "I won't let her."

"But the bond..." Millie whimpered.

"The bond is a shackle," Lucas hissed, his voice filled with a bitterness that terrified me. "The Moon Goddess made a mistake. You are my Chosen Mate, Millie. You always have been."

I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. My knees hit the dirt, but I didn't feel the impact.

"Then why are you with her?" Millie asked, tracing the line of his jaw.

"You know why," Lucas sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "The merger. The territory. And... the heir. Once the pup is born and the alliance is cemented, things will be different. She is just a vessel, Millie. A vessel for the legacy we need."

A vessel. That was all I was to him. An incubator for his power.

I didn't stay to hear more. I couldn't. I crawled backward until I was safe to run, and then I sprinted, tears blinding me, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm of betrayal.

***

The next morning, I didn't knock. I slammed the heavy oak doors of my father's study open so hard they bounced off the walls.

"Why is she here?" I demanded, storming into the room. "Why is Millie allowed on our land?"

My father was sitting behind his desk, but he wasn't alone. Sitting in the wingback chair by the window—my mother's favorite chair—was a woman I hadn't seen in years. Adele Perkins.

She looked up from her tea, a serene smile playing on her lips. She looked exactly as I remembered her: beautiful, cold, and utterly venomous.

"Hello, June," Adele said smoothly. "You're looking... flushed."

"Get out of her chair," I snarled.

"June!" My father slammed his hand on the desk. "Show some respect! Adele is my guest."

"Respect?" I laughed, a shrill, broken sound. "She destroyed Mom! She is the reason Mom is dead! And you're drinking tea with her?"

"That is ancient history," my father said dismissively, standing up to pour Adele more tea. "Adele and I... we are reconnecting. She will be spending more time here. I plan to integrate her back into the pack."

"Over my dead body," I whispered, horror washing over me.

"Don't be dramatic," he scoffed, waving a hand at me as if I were a buzzing fly. "You are letting your pregnancy hormones cloud your judgment. You are emotional, June. Unstable. Perhaps it is time you took a step back from your Luna duties until the pup is born. You clearly can't handle the stress."

I looked from my father to the woman who killed my mother, seeing the smug satisfaction in Adele's eyes. I was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

The Pack Gathering was supposed to be my arena. For three years, I had commanded war councils on the northern border, my voice the only thing standing between my pack and annihilation. But as I stood on the raised dais in the community hall, my hand resting protectively over my swollen belly, I felt less like a Luna and more like a ghost haunting her own life.

"The rogue incursions near the eastern ridge have increased by fifteen percent," I said, my voice projecting clearly over the murmurs of the assembled wolves. I pointed to the large map spread across the table. "We need to double the patrols there. Pull two units from the southern perimeter. It's the only way to secure the nursery."

Silence fell. The elders nodded, recognizing the strategy. It was sound. It was necessary.

"Actually," a soft, hesitant voice cut through the air.

Millie Perkins stepped forward from the crowd. She wasn't wearing pack colors, just a simple, pale blue dress that made her look fragile, like a porcelain doll that might shatter if you breathed on it too hard.

"Alpha Lucas," she said, looking up at my mate with wide, innocent eyes. "I know I'm just a civilian, but... doesn't doubling the patrols make us look aggressive? If we want peace, shouldn't we show trust? Maybe open the borders a little? Let the rogues see we aren't enemies?"

A few younger wolves murmured in agreement. It was a naive, dangerous idea that would get us all killed. I opened my mouth to shut it down, to explain the brutality of rogue psychology.

"Millie has a point," Lucas said.

I whipped my head toward him. He was looking at her, not me. His expression was soft, indulgent. "We've been running on a war footing for too long. Perhaps a softer approach is what the pack needs right now. A... civilian perspective."

"Lucas," I hissed, keeping my voice low so the pack wouldn't hear the discord. "That is suicide. They will slaughter us."

He finally looked at me, his eyes cold and dismissive. "You're thinking like a soldier, June. Not a Luna. We will implement Millie's suggestion. Patrols remain as they are."

Humiliation burned my cheeks. He had just publicly chosen the advice of his mistress over the tactical expertise of his wife. I looked at Beta Thomas, Lucas's second-in-command. He shifted on his feet, refusing to meet my eyes, his jaw clenched tight. He knew this was wrong. But he said nothing.

The meeting disbanded, the wolves filing out with whispers that felt like claws raking down my back. I lingered, pretending to organize papers, needing a moment to compose myself.

Lucas and his Gamma, a brute named Silas, stood near the exit. They didn't see me in the shadows of the heavy curtains.

"She's becoming a problem, Alpha," Silas grunted. "Undermining you in front of the pack."

"Patience," Lucas's voice drifted back to me, casual and cruel. "Once the pup is born and weaned... we can deal with the June problem permanently. Maybe the northern border needs a commander again. A permanent one."

The air left my lungs. He wasn't just cheating on me. He was planning to exile me. To steal my child and cast me out to the frozen wasteland I had fought so hard to leave.

***

The next morning, I went to the training grounds. I needed to hit something. I needed to feel strong again, to remind my wolf that we were warriors, not victims. Despite the heaviness of my pregnancy, I moved through the katas, the familiar burn of my muscles grounding me.

"Mind if I join?"

Millie stood at the edge of the mat, wearing pristine, expensive workout gear that looked like it had never seen a drop of sweat.

"I'm busy," I grunted, throwing a jab at the punching bag.

"Lucas said I should learn self-defense," she persisted, stepping onto the mat. "Since the borders are 'so dangerous,' according to you."

My wolf growled. *Bait,* she warned. *Do not bite.*

"Fine," I said, wiping sweat from my forehead. "Basic stance. Keep your guard up."

I moved to correct her posture. I barely touched her elbow to lift her arm.

Suddenly, Millie shrieked.

She threw herself backward with the force of a cannonball, crashing onto the mats and curling into a ball, clutching her stomach. "My ribs! Oh goddess, my ribs!"

"What?" I stared at my hands. "I didn't even—"

"Help!" she screamed, her voice piercing the morning air. "The Luna! She's crushing me with her aura!"

Wolves came running from every direction. Lucas was there in seconds, his face a mask of thunderous rage. He dropped to his knees beside Millie, who was sobbing theatrically.

"She attacked me!" Millie wailed, burying her face in Lucas's chest. "I just wanted to learn! She's jealous, Lucas! She tried to kill me!"

"I didn't touch her!" I yelled, panic rising in my throat. "Lucas, look at me! I barely touched her elbow!"

The pack doctor, a man named Dr. Thorne who I knew owed gambling debts to my father, rushed over. He placed a glowing hand on Millie's side and gasped. "Internal bruising, Alpha. Severe. It's consistent with an Alpha command crushing the organs."

It was a lie. A blatant, impossible lie.

Lucas stood up slowly. The look he gave me wasn't just anger anymore. It was hatred.

"You are out of control," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "You attack a guest? A weaker wolf? You are a disgrace to your rank."

"Lucas, please," I begged, my hands trembling. "It's a setup. Can't you see—"

"Enough!" His roar silenced the entire training ground. "Beta Thomas! Escort June to the guest quarters on the lower level. Revoke her clearance. She is barred from the Alpha floor and the strategy room until further notice."

"You can't do that," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. "I am the Luna."

"Not right now," Lucas spat. "Right now, you are a liability."

Thomas stepped forward, his face pale. "June... please. Don't make him hurt you."

I let him lead me away. As I walked past the whispering pack members, I heard the words that Adele and Millie had planted taking root.

*"She's crazy."*

*"Jealous."*

*"Unfit mother."*

The heavy door of the guest room clicked shut, the lock engaging with a finality that sounded like a prison sentence. I sank to the floor, wrapping my arms around my belly. They had taken my voice. They had taken my rank. Now, they were coming for my child.

The guest quarters were cold, stripped of the warmth that usually permeated the pack house. For three days, I had been locked in this glorified cell, my meals brought by a trembling Omega who wouldn't meet my eyes. But it wasn't the isolation that terrified me. It was the weakness.

My limbs felt heavy, like I was wading through mud. My wolf, usually a fierce presence in my mind, was silent, curled into a tight ball of distress. I sat on the edge of the stiff mattress, staring at the cup of jasmine tea the Omega had left an hour ago. It was my favorite blend—a small kindness, or so I had thought.

I lifted the cup, the steam carrying that familiar floral scent. But beneath the jasmine, there was something else. A sharp, metallic tang that made my nose wrinkle. It was faint, almost imperceptible to a human, but to a wolf trained to hunt in the northern wastes, it was a warning bell.

*Wolfsbane.*

My hand shook, splashing hot liquid onto my wrist. Wolfsbane was poison to our kind. In large doses, it killed. In small, controlled doses... it weakened the wolf spirit. It caused forced submission. And in pregnant she-wolves, it detached the placenta.

They weren't just trying to silence me. They were trying to kill my baby.

Rage, hot and blinding, surged through my veins, momentarily burning away the lethargy. I poured the tea into a small glass vial I kept in my travel bag—a habit from my patrol days—and hid it in my pocket. I needed confirmation.

When the Omega returned for the tray, I feigned sleep, slipping out the door the moment the lock clicked shut but didn't fully engage. I knew the security codes; I wrote half of them.

I didn't go to Dr. Thorne. He was in my father's pocket. Instead, I crept through the shadows to the edge of the territory, to a small shack where Old Martha, the pack's retired herbalist, lived. She was blind, but her nose was sharper than any Alpha's.

"Martha," I whispered, stepping into the herb-scented gloom.

She didn't startle. "June. You smell like fear and iron."

I placed the vial in her gnarled hand. "Tell me what this is."

Martha uncorked it, taking a shallow sniff. She recoiled instantly, her face twisting in horror. "Jasmine. Honey. And *Aconitum lycoctonum*. Wolfsbane, child. Enough to force a miscarriage by sunrise if you drank the whole cup."

The world tilted. It wasn't just neglect. It wasn't just an affair. It was murder.

"Thank you, Martha," I choked out, taking the vial back. "Stay inside tonight."

I didn't sneak back to my room. I walked straight to the main house. It was dusk, and the pack was gathering for the evening meal. Lucas would be there. My father would be there. And Millie.

I burst through the double doors of the dining hall. The chatter died instantly. Lucas sat at the head of the table, Millie to his right in the seat that should have been mine. She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting possessively on his forearm.

"June?" Lucas stood up, his expression darkening. "You are confined to your quarters."

"I'm sure you'd prefer that," I said, my voice ringing clear and cold across the silent hall. I marched forward, the vial clutched in my hand like a grenade. "It makes it easier to poison me."

Gasps rippled through the room. Millie's eyes went wide, her scent spiking with sudden, acrid panic.

"What are you talking about?" Lucas growled, stepping around the table. "You're hysterical again."

"Am I?" I uncorked the vial and splashed the tea onto the polished floor at his feet. The liquid hissed as it hit the wood, the Wolfsbane reacting with the treated timber. The scent of burnt sugar and poison filled the air. "Old Martha confirmed it. Wolfsbane. In my tea. In the cup *she* ordered for me."

I pointed a shaking finger at Millie. She shrank back, clutching her pearls. "Lucas! She's crazy! I would never!"

Lucas looked at the sizzling puddle, then at me. For a second, I saw hesitation. Then he looked at Millie—at her tear-filled eyes, her trembling lower lip—and his face hardened into stone.

"Millie is gentle," Lucas said, his voice flat. "She doesn't have a violent bone in her body. Unlike you, June."

My heart shattered. "Lucas... it's poison. It will kill your son."

"Maybe it's for the best," he said softly, so only I could hear. "You are too hard, June. You are a warrior, a killer. You aren't fit to be a mother. Millie... she is soft. She is what a Luna should be."

He raised his voice, addressing the pack. "June is unwell. She is hallucinating. Until she recovers, Millie Perkins will act as Luna for the upcoming Summit."

It wasn't a formal rejection, but it was a death sentence. He had chosen his mistress over his mate and his unborn child. He would let them poison me slowly, claiming I was sick, until I was gone.

I stared at him, memorizing the face of the man who had just signed my execution order. "You will regret this," I whispered. "When the moon rises on your empty life, you will regret this."

I turned and walked out. No one stopped me. They thought I was broken. They were wrong.

***

Midnight. The witching hour. I was packing a go-bag in the dark when the door handle turned. I grabbed a letter opener, my only weapon, and spun around.

Beta Thomas stood there, his face pale in the moonlight. He held a set of car keys.

"Thomas?" I lowered the blade.

"I can't do this, June," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I saw the tea. I smelled it too. He's... he's lost his mind."

He tossed me the keys. "Take the black SUV around back. I disabled the perimeter alarms on the south gate. You have ten minutes before the system reboots."

"Come with me," I urged, grabbing his arm. "He'll know it was you."

"Someone has to delay them," Thomas said grimly. "Go. Save the pup."

I didn't waste time with goodbyes. I ran. My body was heavy, the residual poison still dragging at my limbs, but fear gave me wings. I threw my bag into the passenger seat and tore out of the garage, keeping the headlights off until I hit the tree line.

As I sped toward the southern border, a sharp pain cramped my lower abdomen. Not the dull ache of the poison, but a tightening, squeezing pressure.

*Contractions.*

"No, no, no," I gasped, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. "Not yet. It's too soon. Stay in there, little one. Please."

I floored the accelerator, the engine roaring as I crossed the boundary line. Behind me, the alarms of the Hunter Moon Pack began to wail, piercing the night. They were coming. But I was already gone, driving into the darkness toward the only sanctuary left—the neutral lands.