The mirror reflected a stranger—my eyes too bright, my smile too fragile. I smoothed down the silver silk dress that hugged my curves, a gift from Father for my eighteenth birthday. Today was the day I'd finally be claimed as Colton's Luna, his mate, his equal.

"You look just like her," Father said from the doorway of my bedroom.

I turned to see Alpha Thomas Ferguson leaning against the frame, his eyes misty with memories. My father, the powerful Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, looked smaller somehow today.

"Like Mother?" I asked, touching the dress.

"Yes." He crossed the room and took something from his pocket. "Which is why I want you to have this."

He placed a silver locket in my palm. It was intricately crafted with our pack symbol etched on the front. When I opened it, my breath caught.

"It's Mother," I whispered, tracing the tiny photograph inside.

"The day before she gave birth to you." Father's voice cracked slightly. "I want you to carry her with you today. She would be so proud."

I clasped the locket around my neck, feeling its weight settle against my skin. "Do you think Colton will like it?"

Father chuckled, the sound warming me from within. "He'll be too busy looking at you to notice what you're wearing." His expression grew serious. "Mariah, I've watched you two grow up together. The pack will be in good hands with you and Colton leading it."

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks. "We're not officially mated yet."

"Please." Father rolled his eyes. "I've seen the way that boy looks at you. And you've been smelling like rain and pine for weeks now."

I froze. "What?"

"The mate scent. It's getting stronger." He inhaled deeply. "Classic Alpha pairing. Rain and pine from him, sunshine and wildflowers from you."

As if summoned by his words, I felt it again—that pull in my chest, the faint trace of rain and pine that had been growing stronger each day. Our bond, calling to me.

"I should go," I said, suddenly nervous. "The ceremony starts in an hour."

Father kissed my forehead. "Go. Find your mate."

I slipped out of the room, my heart racing with anticipation. The pack house buzzed with activity—servants making final preparations, pack members dressing in their finest. I decided to surprise Colton before the ceremony officially began.

"He's in his suite," Beta Marcus told me with a knowing smile. "Alpha business, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind seeing you."

I climbed the stairs to the Alpha's private wing, my fingers tracing the silver key I'd been given months ago. The scent of rain and pine grew stronger with each step.

"I'm coming in," I called softly as I unlocked the door.

The sitting room was empty, but the bedroom door stood ajar. Strange. Colton usually kept it closed when working.

"Colton?" I called, pushing the door open wider.

Time stopped.

The bed was rumpled, sheets tangled around two bodies. Colton's broad shoulders, the tribal tattoos marking his Alpha heritage. And beside him—

"Stepmother?" The word felt foreign on my tongue.

Giovanna's red hair spilled across the pillow, her lips curved in a satisfied smile. "Hello, darling."

Colton turned, his eyes glazed with confusion that quickly hardened into something cold. Something unfamiliar.

"What is this?" I whispered, my voice breaking.

Giovanna stretched languidly. "Alpha business, Mariah. You're interrupting."

"Alpha business?" I repeated numbly.

Colton sat up, the sheets pooling at his waist. "Mariah, you shouldn't be here."

"But the ceremony—"

"Will proceed as planned," Giovanna cut in smoothly. "Now why don't you run along and let the adults handle things?"

I backed away, unable to process what I was seeing. The mate scent was overwhelming now—rain and pine mingling with something else. Something wrong.

"Mariah!" Father's voice called from the hallway. "What's happening?"

I turned to see him rushing toward me, his face contorted with concern. He must have sensed my distress.

"Dad, I—" I couldn't finish.

He pushed past me into the bedroom. The sound that escaped him was primal—a wounded animal's cry.

"Thomas!" Giovanna gasped.

Father clutched his chest, his eyes wide with shock. "You... you promised..."

He collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing. I screamed, dropping to my knees beside him.

"Dad! Someone get help!"

The room filled with people—pack members, servants, Elena the healer. But it was too late. I could see it in Elena's eyes as she checked for a pulse.

"He's gone," she whispered.

A terrible silence fell over the room. Then Colton's voice cut through it, cold and formal.

"Mariah Ferguson has interrupted sensitive Alpha business and caused the death of Alpha Thomas through her hysterical behavior."

Giovanna nodded approvingly beside him.

"I, Alpha Colton Pierce," he continued, his voice taking on the unmistakable resonance of an Alpha Command, "reject you, Mariah Ferguson, as my mate."

The words hit me like physical blows. Something tore inside my chest—the mate bond snapping. I doubled over, vomiting blood onto the floor as pain unlike anything I'd ever known ripped through me.

Through tears of agony, I saw Giovanna smile triumphantly as darkness closed in around me.

The pain of rejection still burned through my veins as Giovanna's voice sliced through the chaos.

"I have evidence," she announced, her red hair gleaming like blood in the dim light of the packhouse hallway. "Evidence of why Thomas really died."

She produced a small vial filled with purple liquid from her pocket. The crowd of pack members gathered outside Colton's suite drew back with gasps.

"This," Giovanna held the vial up to the light, "was found in Mariah's room this morning."

Elena, our pack healer, stepped forward. "That's—"

"Poison," Giovanna finished for her. "The same poison that was found in the pack's water supply yesterday. The stress of discovering his daughter's treachery triggered Thomas's heart attack."

I shook my head, blood still trickling from my nose where the rejection had physically wounded me. "No, I would never—"

"Silence!" Colton's Alpha Command hit me like a physical blow, stealing my words.

Elena's eyes met mine briefly, filled with doubt. "Alpha, I should examine—"

"You examined the water supply yesterday," Colton cut her off. "Did you not find traces of this same poison?"

"Yes, but—"

"And did you not state that such poison could cause cardiac episodes in those with weakened hearts?"

Elena hesitated. "Yes, but I never said—"

"Enough." Colton's voice was ice. "Take her to the cells. She'll be transported to Grimwolf at dawn."

Two Delta guards seized my arms. I could smell their disgust as they dragged me through the packhouse, past the horrified faces of guests who had come to celebrate what should have been my mating ceremony.

"Colton, please!" I cried out as they pulled me down the grand staircase. "It's not true!"

But he had already turned away, Giovanna's arm sliding possessively through his as she whispered something in his ear.

---

Three months into my sentence at Grimwolf Correctional Facility, I huddled on the thin mattress in my cell, trying to ignore the constant dampness that seeped through the silver-reinforced walls. The prison for rogue wolves was underground, the air thick with the scent of mold and despair.

I pressed my hand against my stomach, feeling the slight swell that had appeared despite the meager rations. Something was wrong—my cycle had stopped, and nausea plagued me each morning.

"Prisoner Ferguson," a guard called, unlocking my cell. "Medical check."

The prison medic, a sour-faced woman with dull eyes, examined me in the sterile infirmary. Her hands paused as she pressed against my abdomen.

"You're pregnant," she stated flatly.

The words echoed in my mind. Pregnant. With Colton's pup.

"Does the Alpha know?" she asked.

"No," I whispered. "But he should."

That night, I wrote a letter with a stolen pencil stub, explaining everything. The guard who collected it smirked as he took it from my trembling hands.

"I'll make sure he gets it," he promised.

But I never saw him again. Instead, I was moved to solitary confinement.

"Alpha's orders," the new guard sneered. "To hide your shame."

---

Six months later, the first contractions hit me like lightning bolts as a storm raged outside my solitary cell. I screamed, clutching my swollen belly.

"Help!" I cried as pain tore through me. "My baby's coming!"

The door burst open. Three guards entered, their faces grim beneath their helmets.

"Quiet," one ordered, injecting something into my arm.

Not a pain reliever—something to weaken me further.

"No," I begged as they forced me onto the cold floor. "Please, get a doctor!"

"Alpha Luna gave us instructions," the female guard said, her hands pressing roughly against my stomach. "This won't take long."

They were forcing labor prematurely. I fought them with every ounce of strength I had left, but months of malnutrition had weakened me beyond measure.

"Stop fighting," the guard hissed. "This will hurt more if you resist."

Something tore inside me as another contraction hit. Then came a new sound—tiny, defiant, alive.

My baby's cry.

"That's it," the guard said, reaching between my legs.

I felt a small body slip from mine, heard that strong, healthy cry again.

"Please," I sobbed. "Let me see my baby!"

But they were already backing toward the door, a bundle wrapped in a blood-stained sheet in the female guard's arms.

"Where are you taking him?" I screamed, trying to follow but collapsing from the sedative they'd given me.

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was my son's tiny fist, reaching out as they carried him away.

When I woke, the cell was empty save for a single guard standing over me.

"The pup?" I croaked.

"Stillborn," he said mechanically. "Incinerated as per protocol."

Something broke inside me then—something deeper than the mate bond, more primal than grief. As I curled around my empty womb, I made a silent vow: This would not be the end of my story. Somehow, someday, I would find my son. And I would make them all pay for what they had done.

The heavy iron gates of Grimwolf Correctional Facility groaned open behind me. One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days of hell had passed since I'd been dragged away from everything I loved.

"Prisoner Ferguson," the guard sneered, shoving a small bag of belongings into my arms. "You're free to go."

Free. The word tasted bitter on my tongue.

"Remember the terms of your parole," he continued, his voice dripping with contempt. "No leaving Silver Moon territory. No contact with neighboring packs. Daily check-ins with the Alpha's Beta."

I nodded, unable to speak through the lump in my throat. The mate bond rejection had left me hollow, my wolf silent within me. The prison doctor had confirmed what I already suspected—my wolf had retreated so deeply she might never return. I was wolfless now. An Omega.

"You've got nowhere to go, do you?" the guard mocked. "No family, no friends, no money."

I clutched my father's silver locket through my threadbare shirt. He was all I had left.

"The Silver Moon Pack House is hiring cleaners," he added with a cruel smile. "For traitors like you."

The walk back to the pack house took hours. Each step sent pain shooting through my malnourished body. By the time I reached the imposing gates, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the manicured grounds.

"Name?" demanded the new gate guard—someone who hadn't witnessed my downfall.

"Mariah Ferguson," I whispered, the name feeling foreign on my lips.

His eyes widened slightly. "The traitor."

"The cleaner," corrected an older woman approaching from the house. "If you want to eat, that is."

She led me to a small office where a housekeeper's uniform waited. Gray, shapeless, marking me as the lowest of the low.

"You'll start with the east wing," she instructed. "Bathrooms first, then floors. The nursery wing is off-limits unless specifically ordered to clean there."

Nursery. The word pierced my heart. My child—my son—was somewhere in this house, being raised by the woman who had destroyed my life.

---

Three weeks passed in a blur of scrubbing floors and emptying trash. I kept my head down, avoided eye contact, and tried not to think about what might have been.

"Mariah!" The head housekeeper's sharp voice cut through my thoughts. "Nursery spill. Now!"

I grabbed my cleaning supplies and hurried up the forbidden wing. The scent hit me before I reached the door—milk, baby powder, and something else. Something that made my heart stop.

"Quickly," a nanny instructed, pointing to a puddle of spilled formula near an ornate crib. "And don't touch anything else."

I dropped to my knees, scrubbing at the hardwood floor. From the corner of my eye, I could see small fingers grasping the bars of the crib.

"Mama?" a tiny voice questioned.

"No, sweetheart," the nanny corrected gently. "That's just the cleaning lady."

I froze, my hand still pressed to the floor. Slowly, I turned my head.

A toddler with dark hair and solemn eyes stared back at me. As our gazes locked, he reached out his hand toward me.

"Up," he demanded.

Before the nanny could stop him, his tiny fingers touched mine. A spark—like static electricity but warmer—shot up my arm.

And then I caught it—his scent. Cinnamon and old books. My father's scent. Mixed with rain—Colton's signature fragrance.

My son. My Jase.

"Get away from him!" The nanny yanked me back by my collar. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I stammered, but it was too late. I knew. And somehow, deep down, he knew too.

---

I found Colton in the west hallway the next day, alone for once without Giovanna at his side.

"Alpha," I whispered, my voice weak from disuse. "I need to speak with you."

He turned, surprise flickering across his face before hardening into disgust. "You shouldn't address me directly."

"Please," I insisted, stepping closer. "About the baby—about Jase—"

"Mariah!" Giovanna's voice sliced through the air as she rounded the corner. "What are you doing?"

She rushed to Colton's side, her eyes wide with manufactured fear. "She was in the nursery yesterday, talking to Jase. She said she was going to take him away from us."

"What?" Colton's expression darkened dangerously.

"No!" I protested. "I would never—"

"She's obsessed," Giovanna whispered, clinging to him. "She thinks he's hers because she's delusional from the rejection."

Colton's hand shot out, gripping my throat as he slammed me against the wall. "You will never come near my son again."

"Your son?" I gasped. "He's—"

"Silence!" Colton snarled, reaching for something in his pocket. A small bottle filled with amber liquid. "This will help you remember your place."

He uncorked it and forced it between my lips. The liquid burned like fire down my throat, spreading poison through my veins.

"Wolfsbane," he growled as I choked and clawed at my throat. "To make sure you never speak lies about my family again."

The pain was excruciating as the concentrated herb burned my vocal cords and sank deeper, wrapping around what remained of my wolf like chains.

As darkness closed in around me, I heard Giovanna's satisfied laugh. And I knew—this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.