The floorboards beneath my knees were cold and hard as I scrubbed at a stain that wouldn't come clean. Three days had passed since my parents left for the Northern Ridge. Three days of silence, of worrying, of praying to the Moon Goddess that they were safe.

I'd been demoted to cleaning the pack house floors—another humiliation orchestrated by Sabrina. The servants avoided me, their eyes filled with pity or contempt. I was no longer the Luna; I was less than an Omega.

"Siena." One of the kitchen workers passed by, her eyes darting nervously around. "I'm sorry about your parents."

My hands stilled on the brush. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated, then whispered, "There's been no word from the Northern Ridge. It's not normal."

A cold knot formed in my stomach. Before I could question her further, a searing pain tore through my chest—so sudden and violent that I collapsed onto the wet floor.

"Siena?" The worker knelt beside me, but her voice sounded distant through the roaring in my ears.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. The familial bond I shared with my parents had snapped—not gradually like a thread unraveling, but suddenly like a wire cut by sharp teeth.

"My parents," I gasped, clutching at my chest. "They're dying."

I scrambled to my feet, leaving the bucket of dirty water overturning behind me. The pain intensified with each step, guiding me like a compass toward the source of my agony.

The Northern Ridge. Rogues. My parents were under attack.

---

I burst through the heavy oak doors of Jasper's office without knocking. Five Alphas from neighboring packs sat around the conference table, their conversation halting abruptly as I stumbled in.

"Jasper!" My voice cracked with desperation. "My parents—they're being attacked on the Northern Ridge!"

Jasper's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You dare interrupt—"

"Please!" I fell to my knees, not caring about the dignity I'd been trying to maintain. "They're dying! You have to send help—the warriors, Elena—"

Sabrina rose from her seat at Jasper's right hand, her silvery dress catching the light. "How dare you barge in here with your hysterics?"

"My parents are dying!" I screamed, my composure shattering completely. "I can feel it! The bond is breaking!"

Jasper stood slowly, his massive frame casting a shadow over me. "Control yourself."

"Elena can heal them if we hurry," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face. "Please, Jasper. They're your pack now too."

Sabrina glided to Jasper's side, placing a manicured hand on his arm. She leaned close, whispering something I couldn't hear.

I watched Jasper's expression change as she spoke—hardening, calcifying into something cold and terrible.

"She says it's the spirits' judgment," he finally announced, his voice devoid of emotion. "Interfering would transfer the bad omen to my bloodline."

"What?" I stared at him in disbelief. "That's nonsense! They're your allies!"

"Enough!" Jasper's Alpha tone slammed into me like a physical blow. "I will not risk my pack or my bloodline for your sentimental attachments."

I lunged for the door. "Then I'll go myself!"

"STOP!"

The Alpha command froze me mid-step. My muscles locked, my breath caught in my throat. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only watch through wide eyes as Jasper nodded to his guards.

"Take her to the dungeon," he ordered. "The silver-lined cell. I won't have her spreading her curse throughout the pack."

Strong hands gripped my arms, dragging me backward. I fought against the command with everything I had, but Jasper's hold on me was absolute.

"Jasper," I finally managed to gasp out. "Please..."

His face remained impassive as the guards hauled me through the door.

---

The dungeon was dark and damp, the walls lined with silver that burned against my skin. They'd chained me to the wall—unnecessary given the Alpha command still binding my muscles.

Alone in the darkness, I felt the bonds of family stretching thin, ready to snap completely.

Then it happened.

A violent shudder ran through my entire body as the maternal bond severed. The pain was indescribable—like having a limb torn from me without anesthesia.

"No!" I screamed into the darkness. "Mom! NO!"

Something cracked inside me—not just my heart, but something deeper, more primal. The part of me that had remained dormant despite years of abuse and neglect.

The wolf inside me stirred.

For two years she had slumbered, weakened by Jasper's rejection and my own submission. But now, as grief tore through me like wildfire, she awakened with a vengeance.

"LUNA!" I cried out, feeling her presence surge forward.

My eyes burned silver in the darkness—royal silver, not the muted gray of a submissive wolf. My nails lengthened into claws, digging into my palms.

And from deep within my chest came a howl—not the whimper of a broken Luna, but the blood-curdling cry of something fierce and vengeful.

The sound shook the dungeon foundations, echoing off the stone walls until it seemed to vibrate through my very bones.

I felt my wolf rising within me, no longer content to sleep while I suffered.

She had awakened.

And she was hungry for blood.

The cell door creaked open, flooding the silver-lined dungeon with harsh light. I squinted, my eyes having grown accustomed to darkness after days of confinement. Two guards entered, their expressions blank as they unshackled me.

"Alpha's orders," one muttered. "You're being released."

Released. The word meant nothing when my mother was dead.

They half-dragged me through the corridors, my legs barely supporting me. The pack doctor waited in Jasper's office, syringe in hand.

"This is for your hysteria," he said, not meeting my eyes as he injected something into my arm.

The sedative worked quickly, dulling the edges of my grief. I felt Luna—my wolf—fighting against the chemical fog, but she was still too weak to break through.

"Your father survived," Jasper stated flatly from behind his desk. "Paralyzed from the waist down. He's in the infirmary."

I tried to focus through the drug haze. "And my mother?"

Sabrina's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We had to burn her body. A cleansing fire was necessary to prevent the curse from spreading."

The room spun around me. "You burned her? Without the Moon Ceremony?"

"It was my vision," Sabrina said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "The spirits demanded purification."

"You denied her the right to return to the Moon Goddess," I whispered, horror seeping through the sedative. "You denied me the chance to howl her spirit home."

Jasper waved dismissively. "Sabrina knows what's best for the pack. Your mother was already gone—a ceremony would have been pointless."

I stumbled from the office, my body numb with more than just the sedative. Without the Moon Ceremony, my mother's spirit would wander lost between worlds. The ultimate violation—not just of pack law, but of sacred tradition.

---

Days passed in a fog of grief and sedatives. I wandered the pack house like a ghost, ignored by most, pitied by a few. My father lay unmoving in the infirmary, his eyes the only part of him that could still show emotion—emotion that broke me every time I visited.

One afternoon, while the pack house was quiet, I found myself drawn to Sabrina's quarters. The door was unlocked—she never bothered securing it, so confident was she in her position.

I shouldn't have entered. But Luna pushed me forward, her senses sharper than mine.

*Smell it,* she urged.

I inhaled deeply, past the cloying floral perfume that saturated the room. Beneath it lurked something acrid and wrong—a mixture of sulfur and rot that made my stomach turn.

The source was her vanity table. I rifled through bottles and jars until my fingers brushed against something hidden behind a loose panel. A small wooden box slid out, its contents making my blood run cold.

Crushed wolfsbane—enough to poison an entire pack. And beside it, high-grade scent maskers used by Rogues to hide their true nature.

"Find what you're looking for?"

I whirled around. Sabrina stood in the doorway, her eyes glittering with malice.

"These are yours," I said, holding up the box. "You're using wolfsbane to fake your 'pure' aura. You're a Rogue."

She laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Take your evidence to Jasper. See who he believes."

I did. An hour later, I stood before Jasper's desk, the box open between us.

"She's a fraud," I said, my voice stronger than it had been in months. "She's using wolfsbane and scent maskers."

Sabrina's performance was flawless. Tears filled her eyes as she clutched Jasper's arm. "I confiscated these from a traitorous maid," she sobbed. "I was waiting for the right moment to tell you."

Jasper's face darkened with rage—not at Sabrina, but at me.

"You dare accuse my Seer?" he roared, rising from his chair.

The blow came without warning. His hand connected with my cheek, sending me sprawling across the floor.

"Never," he snarled, looming over me, "accuse her again."

---

The next morning, Sabrina cornered me in the hallway. Her eyes were alight with triumph as she leaned close.

"I've had another vision," she whispered. "Your father can walk again."

Hope flared in my chest despite everything.

"There's a Moon Stone in the Deadlands," she continued, her voice carrying just enough for nearby pack members to hear. "It's the only cure for his paralysis."

The Deadlands. The crumbling cliffs where Rogues gathered, where even warriors feared to tread.

"If you truly love your father," she said loudly, "you'll bring it back."

Jasper appeared behind her, his expression calculating. "Yes," he agreed. "This is your chance to make amends for your false accusations."

"You want me to go alone?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"It's the only way to prove your loyalty," Sabrina said sweetly. "Unless you don't really care about your father's suffering?"

Jasper's eyes hardened. "You leave at dawn tomorrow. Alone."

As they walked away, Sabrina glanced back over her shoulder, her smile promising death.

Little did she know that death was exactly what awaited me in the Deadlands—just not in the way she planned.

The rain came down in sheets, each drop feeling like a tiny dagger against my skin as I climbed the treacherous cliff face. Thunder crashed overhead, lightning illuminating the jagged rocks above me. My fingers, raw and bleeding, found another handhold as my foot slipped on the muddy slope.

"Just a little further," I whispered to myself, though I knew it was a lie.

There was no Moon Stone. There never had been. But I'd had to try—for my father, for the small chance that Sabrina's vision might be real.

*Lies*, Luna growled within me. *We know better now.*

My wolf had grown stronger since that day in the dungeon, her presence a constant warmth in my chest. But she was still too weak to shift fully, too damaged by years of neglect and abuse.

The wind howled around me as I reached a small ledge. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the summit—and the figure waiting there.

"Well, well," a man's voice called over the storm. "Look what the rain washed up."

I squinted through the downpour. He was tall and lean, with the unmistakable wildness of a Rogue in his eyes. Scars crisscrossed his face, telling the story of a life lived outside pack law.

"Drake," I said, the name coming to me from whispers I'd heard in the pack house. "Sabrina sent you."

He laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "Smart girl. Too bad you're about to be sold to the feral fighting rings."

"There's no Moon Stone," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

"Of course there isn't." He grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "But there's a pretty price on your head. Seems your 'Seer' wants you gone—preferably dead, but she'll settle for you being someone else's problem."

I took a step back, my heel meeting empty air behind me. The ledge was smaller than I'd thought.

"Don't worry," Drake said, circling me slowly. "I'll make it quick. Well... relatively quick."

He lunged without warning. I dodged, but my weakened body betrayed me. His fist connected with my ribs, sending me sprawling across the wet rock.

"Fight back!" Luna snarled within me.

I scrambled to my feet as Drake advanced again. This time I managed to land a kick to his knee, but it barely slowed him.

"Feisty," he growled. "I like that."

A thunderclap shook the mountain—or was it something else? The air suddenly charged with an energy that made the hair on my arms stand on end.

Drake froze mid-attack, his head snapping toward the treeline above us.

"What the—" he began.

The night exploded into chaos.

Shadows detached from the darkness, moving with impossible speed. Drake's Rogues—I hadn't even realized they were there—fell silent one by one.

"Who's there?" Drake shouted, backing toward me.

I felt it before I saw it—a presence so powerful that the air itself seemed to bend around it. The storm clouds parted, moonlight spilling onto the cliff top.

A figure emerged from the shadows. Tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes that glowed like molten gold in the darkness.

"Maxwell Spencer," Drake whispered, his voice cracking with fear.

The Lycan King moved like liquid night, his hand closing around Drake's throat before anyone could react.

"You dare touch what's mine?" Maxwell's voice was quiet, controlled—and utterly terrifying.

Drake's eyes bulged as he was lifted off his feet. I pressed myself against the cliff face, watching in stunned silence as Maxwell squeezed, his eyes never leaving mine.

When Drake went limp, Maxwell tossed him aside like trash. Then his gaze locked with mine, and something electric passed between us.

"Siena," he said, my name on his lips like a prayer.

The world tilted sideways as exhaustion finally claimed me. I felt myself falling, but instead of hitting the ground, I was caught in strong arms.

Warmth. Safety. Home.

---

I woke to sunlight streaming through gossamer curtains. For a moment, I thought I was dead—that the Moon Goddess had finally taken pity on me.

"She hasn't," a deep voice said from across the room. "But she did send me to find you."

I sat up slowly, taking in my surroundings. I was in a massive bed, covered in silks that felt like clouds against my skin. The room around me was equally luxurious—all dark wood and rich fabrics.

"Where am I?" My voice was hoarse.

"My private estate on the border of Royal Territory," Maxwell said, rising from a chair by the window.

He looked even more imposing in daylight—tall and powerfully built, with silver-streaked black hair and those golden eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

"Why did you save me?" I asked.

Maxwell approached slowly, as if afraid I might bolt. "Because I've been looking for you for a very long time, Siena Grant."

He knelt before me, a King on his knees—and placed his hand gently over mine.

"Do you feel that?" he asked softly.

I nodded, unable to speak as sparks of gold electricity danced between our touching skin.

"The Second Chance Mate bond," he explained. "The rarest gift of the Moon Goddess."

I pulled my hand away in fear. "I can't... I'm already mated."

"Not anymore." Maxwell's eyes darkened. "Not since Jasper rejected you in front of his entire pack."

"But why would you—a King—want someone like me?"

Maxwell's expression softened as he took my hand again. "Because you are not what they made you believe. You are royal blood, Siena. And I will help you claim your vengeance."

As he spoke the words, Luna stirred within me—stronger than before, more present.

*Yes*, she whispered. *This is our path.*