I woke to the sound of my own silence.

Five years. Five years since Axl Morrison had marked me as his mate, standing before the entire Shadowclaw Pack and declaring me his Luna. Five years since he'd endured the Alpha's Trial—a brutal beating from his father that left him bleeding but triumphant—just to claim me.

And now, on our fifth anniversary, I lay curled on a thin mattress in what had once been a closet. The servants' quarters. My new home.

My fingers traced the familiar ache in my throat as I sat up. Not a physical pain, but something deeper—a magical constriction that made my voice box feel like it was wrapped in iron. The Alpha Command had been renewed so many times over the years that it felt permanent, a collar I could never remove.

"Up already, mute?" A voice sneered from the doorway. Tessa, one of the newer Omegas, leaned against the frame with a basket of laundry. "I thought you'd at least sleep in on your special day."

I didn't respond. Couldn't respond. My wolf, Serafina, stirred weakly inside me, a faint whisper where she should be a roar.

"Come on, say something." Tessa stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh wait, you can't." She opened her mouth wide, mimicking a scream, then clamped her hand over her throat, eyes bulging. "Like this? Is this what it feels like to be you?"

The others joined in, their laughter echoing in the small space as they mimicked my silence, my stillness, my brokenness.

"The Alpha doesn't want broken things," Tessa said, dropping the basket at my feet. "These need washing. By hand. No machines for the pack's embarrassment."

I took the basket without protest, my hands already red and raw from yesterday's work. The pack doctor had once told me that stress could worsen my condition, but what choice did I have?

---

By midday, I'd finished the laundry and moved on to scrubbing the pack house floors. My knees ached against the hard wood, but I kept working. Maybe if I worked hard enough, quiet enough, invisible enough...

A scent caught my attention—Axl's distinctive pine and smoke aroma, mixed with something else. Rose petals. Champagne.

My heart stuttered. Today was our anniversary. Could he...?

I followed the scent trail like a ghost through the pack house, my bare feet silent on the stairs. The Alpha's private suite—a place I hadn't been invited to in years—lay at the end of the hall.

The door was ajar. I pushed it open slowly, hope fluttering in my chest like a dying bird.

Rose petals scattered across the floor, forming a path to the bed. Champagne flutes sat on the nightstand, still holding remnants of golden liquid. And there, among white silk sheets, lay Axl.

With Megan.

My half-sister's red hair spilled across his chest as she traced patterns on his skin. The room reeked of their betrayal—her vanilla perfume mingling with his scent, marking their claim on each other.

Axl's eyes met mine over Megan's shoulder. No surprise. No guilt. Just cold contempt.

"Flora." My name on his lips sounded like an insult. "You're interrupting our celebration."

Megan turned, her lips curved in a triumphant smile. "Oh good, you can see what a real Luna looks like." She pressed herself closer to Axl. "We're celebrating, actually. Five years since you became nothing."

I tried to speak. To scream. To make any sound at all. My throat strained against the magic, muscles bulging with effort.

Axl's eyes flashed red. He stood in one fluid motion, Megan still clinging to his arm like a trophy.

"You want to make noise?" His voice dropped to that dangerous register—the Alpha tone that could command wolves to their deaths. "Silence. You are a broken thing, and broken things make no sound."

The command hit me like a physical blow. I felt it wrap around my throat, squeeze.

"Get on your knees and crawl out." His voice was almost lazy now, bored by my existence. "The true Luna of this pack is right here."

I felt my legs buckle. Not from weakness, but from the supernatural weight of his command. My knees hit the floor hard enough to bruise as my body betrayed me, responding to his will.

Megan's laughter filled the room as I began to crawl, my hands and knees moving of their own accord. The rose petals crushed beneath me, staining my skin with their juice.

"See how well she learns?" Megan's voice followed me out. "Maybe there's hope for her yet."

I crawled past pack members in the hallway, their stares burning into my back. Some whispered. Some laughed. None helped.

And as I crawled, I realized that no amount of work would ever be enough. No silence would ever be quiet enough. No submission would ever be complete enough.

Because I was already nothing. And nothing couldn't fall any further.

The next morning, my knees still ached from crawling across rose petals. The pack house was quiet as I slipped into Megan's quarters, armed with cleaning supplies. The scent of her vanilla perfume lingered in the air, making my stomach turn.

"Make sure you get every corner," Tessa had instructed with a smirk. "Our future Luna deserves a spotless room."

I scrubbed the marble floor on my hands and knees, my raw skin stinging with each movement. The floorboard near the bed caught my attention—it was slightly raised, as if something was underneath. My heart quickened as I pried it open with my fingernails.

A phone. An old burner phone, the kind rogues used to avoid pack tracking.

My fingers trembled as I picked it up. It was dead, but I tucked it into my pocket anyway. Throughout the day, I continued working, waiting for a moment alone to charge it.

That evening, locked in my closet-sized room, I plugged the phone into an old charger I'd salvaged from the trash. The screen flickered to life, and my breath caught in my throat.

Messages. Dozens of them, archived from five years ago.

"The payment is confirmed," one read. "Make sure the attack looks convincing. We need video evidence."

Another: "Film the bitch naked. Make it look like she's submitting willingly."

My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the phone. The sender was listed only as "King," but the recipient was clearly Megan.

"The Alpha's mate will be ruined," another message said. "Once he sees her betraying him, he'll have no choice but to reject her."

The room spun around me. Five years of suffering, of silence, of crawling on the floor like an animal—all because of this. Because Megan had orchestrated everything.

I clutched the phone to my chest. Finally, proof. Finally, someone would have to listen.

---

I hurried through the pack house the next day, the phone hidden in my apron pocket. Gamma Marcus would be in his office now—he was Axl's second-in-command, perhaps he would listen where others wouldn't.

The hallway stretched endlessly before me. Pack members averted their eyes as I passed, but I didn't care anymore. The weight of the phone against my hip felt like hope.

Voices drifted from around the corner. I froze.

"The Luna position requires strength," Axl's voice carried clearly. "Not weakness."

"Flora has been... difficult," Marcus replied cautiously.

"She's been nothing but a disappointment," Axl said, his voice hardening. "A wolfless traitor who couldn't even protect herself during a rogue attack."

My blood ran cold.

"Do you think she'll ever speak again?" Marcus asked.

Axl's laugh was hollow. "I prefer her silent. A wolfless bitch has nothing of value to say anyway."

I pressed myself against the wall, my heart hammering so loudly I feared they would hear it. Marcus wouldn't help me. No one would defy the Alpha.

---

Desperation drove me to his office that afternoon. I had to try. Even if it meant facing him directly.

Axl sat behind his massive oak desk, his red eyes narrowing as I entered without knocking. "You dare interrupt me?"

I pulled out the phone with shaking hands, holding it up like a shield.

"What's that?" he demanded, rising from his chair.

Before I could respond, the door burst open. Megan stumbled in, her face contorted in pain.

"She pushed me!" she cried, collapsing dramatically to the floor. "She attacked me!"

Axl moved faster than I could track, catching Megan in his arms. "What happened?"

"She came at me with that phone," Megan sobbed, pointing at me. "Said she'd destroy us both."

"That's not true!" I tried to scream, but only silence emerged.

Axl's eyes flashed dangerously as he looked from Megan to me. Without hesitation, he snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it against the wall. Pieces scattered across the floor like my shattered hopes.

"Enough!" he roared, advancing toward me.

His hand closed around my throat, lifting me until my feet barely touched the ground. Black spots danced in my vision as his grip tightened.

"Megan carries my heir," he growled, his face inches from mine. "If you ever threaten her again—if you ever even look at her wrong—it will be the last thing you do."

I clawed at his hand, gasping for air. Megan watched from behind him, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"The pack doctor confirmed it this morning," she said softly. "We're having a son."

Axl's grip loosened slightly, but his eyes remained murderous. "You're lucky I need you alive to serve as an example to other Omegas."

He released me suddenly, and I crumpled to the floor, gulping air. The phone lay in pieces nearby, its secrets destroyed forever.

"Get out," he ordered. "And if you ever try to harm my mate or my child again, there won't be enough left of you to bury."

I crawled backward, my lungs burning and my heart breaking all over again. The truth had been in my hands, and now it was shattered beyond repair.

As I reached the doorway, Megan's voice followed me: "Oh, and Flora? Happy anniversary."

The morning after my confrontation with Axl and Megan, I awoke to a pack announcement that made my blood run cold.

"The annual Luna's Ball will proceed as scheduled," Axl's voice boomed through the pack house speakers. "All ranking members are expected to attend."

I pressed my palm against my mouth to stifle a gasp. The Luna's Ball was traditionally hosted by—and named for—the Luna of the pack. For five years, I'd been excluded, but the announcement continued.

"Additionally," Axl's voice hardened, "to ensure our visiting Alphas receive proper service, Flora will assist as staff."

Tessa burst into my room, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "You heard? You're going to be a servant at your own ball." She tossed a package onto my bed. "Your uniform."

Inside lay a black dress so short it barely qualified as clothing—a maid's outfit straight from a bad movie. The kind designed to humiliate.

"Axl wants you to wear this," Tessa said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "No shoes. No jewelry. Just this."

My fingers trembled as I touched the cheap fabric. This wasn't just service—it was deliberate degradation.

---

The night of the ball arrived with cruel inevitability. I stood at the entrance of the grand hall, the ridiculous uniform clinging to my body, my feet bare against the cold marble floor.

"Remember your place," Marcus muttered as he passed. "Don't embarrass the pack."

I nodded mechanically, my throat constricting around words I couldn't say.

The hall glittered with chandeliers and polished wood. Pack members wore their finest formal attire, mingling with visiting Alphas from neighboring territories. And there, at the center of it all, stood Axl in his ceremonial Alpha attire—with Megan draped across his arm like a trophy.

My breath caught as I saw what hung around her neck: the Luna's ancestral moonstone necklace. The sacred artifact passed down through generations of true Lunas, the symbol of the Moon Goddess's blessing.

It should have been mine.

"Ah, Alpha Jensen," Axl's voice carried across the room as he guided Megan toward a group of visiting Alphas. "Allow me to introduce my future Luna."

Future Luna. The words sliced through me like silver blades.

Megan's fingers caressed the moonstone as she smiled. "It's an honor to wear the ancestral stone. Axl says it suits me better than it ever suited... well."

Their laughter followed me as I moved through the crowd with a tray of champagne flutes, invisible except when someone needed a drink.

---

"Psst, little Omega."

I turned to find Alpha Donovan of the Riverside Pack blocking my path near the kitchen entrance. His eyes raked over my body, lingering in places that made my skin crawl.

"You're the one they call the Silent Luna, aren't you?" He stepped closer, his breath reeking of alcohol and entitlement. "I've heard about you. The Alpha's little pet."

I tried to step around him, but he grabbed my wrist.

"No wolf scent," he murmured, leaning in to sniff my neck. "Just as they said. A broken toy."

His hand slid up my arm, then down to my waist, pulling me against him. "Does your Alpha share his toys, I wonder?"

Panic surged through me. I twisted away, but his grip tightened.

"Let go," I tried to scream, but only silence emerged.

His hand slid lower.

A crash shattered the moment as I dropped my tray. Glass shattered across the floor, drawing attention.

Axl appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrowing at the scene.

"Alpha Donovan," he said coolly. "Is there a problem?"

"She's feisty," Donovan chuckled, not releasing me. "I like that."

Axl's expression didn't change. Instead, he laughed—a cold, hollow sound that cut deeper than any blade.

"She's just a clumsy Omega," he said dismissively. "Do what you want, just don't break the furniture."

---

I escaped to the gardens, gasping for air that wouldn't come. The moon hung heavy and full in the sky, bathing everything in silver light.

My hands shook as I gripped the stone balustrade. Inside, Megan wore my necklace and claimed my title while I was handed from one predator to another like property.

I looked up at the moon, feeling something stir within me—not just Serafina, but something deeper. A resolve.

I couldn't leave quietly. I couldn't just run.

The mate bond gave Axl power over me—the power to command my silence, to control my body, to destroy my spirit piece by piece.

But there was one way to break that power.

One way to sever the tie that bound us.

The pack meeting was scheduled for tomorrow morning. All members would be present. Including me.

Including the Alpha who thought he owned me.

I straightened my spine, feeling something cold and determined settle in my chest.

"I, Flora Gibson," I whispered silently to the moon, "reject you, Alpha Axl Morrison..."

The words felt like power on my tongue, even if no sound emerged.

Tomorrow, I would find my voice. Or die trying.