The silver moonlight bathed the sacred marking grounds in an ethereal glow as I stood alone for the ninety-ninth time. My white Luna gown—the same one I'd worn for every failed ceremony—fluttered gently around my ankles, the delicate fabric catching the night breeze. The clearing was perfect: ceremonial candles placed in a circle, the sacred marking stones arranged precisely as tradition demanded, moonflowers blooming in abundance. Everything was ready. Everything except my mate.

"He'll come this time," I whispered, more to convince myself than my wolf.

Luna, my silver wolf, whimpered inside my mind. *He won't. You know he won't.*

I pushed her doubt away, focusing instead on smoothing invisible wrinkles from my gown. Seven years of devotion couldn't be wrong. Seven years of supporting Ethan, of believing in him when he was nothing but a struggling rogue with dreams of building a powerful pack.

*Seven years of being second to Victoria,* Luna reminded me bitterly.

The ceremonial fire I'd lit an hour ago was already burning low. I added another log, watching the flames lick hungrily at the wood. Like my hope—constantly needing to be fed, constantly threatening to die out.

Then I felt it—the familiar pressure of Ethan's mind against mine. My heart leapt, then immediately sank as I recognized the particular texture of his thoughts. Not excitement. Not love. Apology.

*Olivia?* His voice filled my head, strong and commanding even in a mind-link. *There's been an emergency.*

I closed my eyes, my fingers instinctively reaching for the pendant he'd given me after the forty-seventh cancellation. "What is it this time?" I asked aloud, though I kept my tone gentle in our link.

*Victoria got trapped under collapsed training beams. I need to use my Alpha strength to free her. You understand, right? I can't let my Beta suffer.*

Of course. Victoria. It was always Victoria.

*I'm sending Jake with a gift. A moonstone bracelet. It's rare—just like you.*

The familiar burn of humiliation spread through my chest. Luna howled in frustration, clawing at my insides, begging me to finally acknowledge what we both knew: we would never be first in Ethan's heart.

"It's fine," I replied, forcing warmth into my voice. "Go help her. We can reschedule."

*You're amazing, Liv. The ceremony will happen next full moon. I promise. The hundredth time's the charm, right?*

His mind withdrew before I could respond. I stood frozen, staring at the carefully prepared marking stones, each one representing a promise of eternal devotion. Ninety-nine times I had arranged them. Ninety-nine times I had been disappointed.

Jake arrived minutes later, his expression a mixture of pity and discomfort as he handed me a small velvet box.

"Luna Olivia," he said, using my honorary title despite the fact that I wasn't truly Luna yet. "Alpha Ethan sends his deepest regrets."

"Thank you, Jake." I accepted the box with steady hands, though inside, Luna was thrashing against her cage of flesh and bone.

After he left, I opened the box. The moonstone bracelet gleamed in the firelight, its opalescent surface catching and reflecting the flames. Beautiful. Expensive. Meaningless.

I slipped it onto my wrist anyway, watching how it complemented the ninety-eight other apology gifts I wore: earrings, necklaces, rings—a collection of beautiful trinkets that marked each broken promise.

"The hundredth time," I whispered to myself, gathering the edges of my gown as I prepared to leave the sacred grounds. "The hundredth time will be different."

*You don't believe that anymore,* Luna whimpered. *Neither of us does.*

I ignored her as I extinguished the ceremonial candles one by one. This was the ritual I had perfected over seven years—not the sacred marking ceremony, but the ritual of packing away my disappointment, of folding my hope into a smaller and smaller space until it could fit inside a heart that was running out of room.

As I walked back to my cabin at the edge of the Black Crest territory—not in the main compound where a true Luna would reside—I touched the moonstone bracelet. It was cool against my skin despite the summer night's warmth.

"One more chance," I promised Luna, who had retreated into sullen silence. "If he fails the hundredth time, we'll reconsider."

But deep down, as the cabin came into view—small and isolated, just like my place in Ethan's life—I wondered how many "one more chances" I had left to give before there was nothing left of me at all.

The morning light filtered through my cabin window as I knelt before the old cedar chest, my fingers trembling against the worn wood. I'd avoided opening it for weeks, but tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight was the hundredth ceremony.

"Just leave it closed," Luna whimpered, already sensing what lay inside.

But I couldn't. My hands moved of their own accord, lifting the heavy lid. The scent hit me first—moonflowers and silver sage, the traditional herbs used to bless an Alpha's ceremonial robes. There they were, folded with reverent care: the robes I'd spent three moons creating for Ethan.

I lifted them gently, the fabric whispering against my fingers. Each thread had been woven under the full moon's light, blessed with ancient words passed down through generations. The silver embroidery caught the morning sun, revealing the intricate pattern of two wolves running together—our wolves, forever united.

My fingertips traced the collar where I'd sewn in threads spun from my own blood, a tradition so old most wolves had forgotten it. But I hadn't forgotten. I'd wanted to give him something no other Luna could—a piece of my very essence woven into the fabric that would touch his skin during our marking.

"Three moons," I whispered, remembering the nights I'd worked until my fingers bled, the days I'd spent gathering moonlight in crystal vials to spin into thread. "Three moons for one night."

*Three moons wasted,* Luna corrected bitterly.

I pressed the robes against my chest, inhaling the lingering scent of the oils I'd used to preserve them. Ethan had promised—actually promised—to wear them tonight. "Nothing but the best for our hundredth attempt," he'd said, his dark eyes warm with what I'd foolishly believed was love.

The sound of approaching footsteps made me quickly return the robes to the chest. I couldn't let him see me like this, desperate and clinging to handmade gifts. I smoothed my white Luna gown—the same one, always the same one—and stepped outside.

But it wasn't just Ethan.

My heart stuttered as I saw them together, walking up the path to my cabin. Ethan wore new ceremonial furs, ornate and obviously expensive, the black fur gleaming with embedded jewels. Beside him, Victoria's hand rested possessively on his arm, her smile sharp as a blade.

"Olivia." Ethan's voice was casual, too casual for what this night meant. "Change of plans."

I stood frozen on my porch, watching them approach. The ceremonial robes I'd crafted with my own blood seemed to burn through the chest, through the floor, straight into my heart.

"Victoria needs a protection marking," he continued, not quite meeting my eyes. "There have been rogue sightings at the borders. As my Beta, she's vulnerable without an Alpha's mark."

The words hit me like physical blows. Luna howled in anguish, clawing at my insides. A protection marking. On our hundredth ceremony night.

"You're wearing new furs," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced down as if just remembering. "Oh, these? The Northern Pack Alpha sent them. Diplomatic gift. Couldn't refuse without causing offense."

But he'd refused my robes. The ones made with moonlight and blood and three moons of devoted labor.

Victoria's smile widened. "Don't worry, Olivia. The protection marking is just practical. Nothing like what you and Ethan will share... eventually."

Eventually. The word tasted like ash.

"Of course," I heard myself say. "Pack safety comes first."

*No,* Luna snarled. *We come first. We should come first.*

But I just smiled, the expression feeling like cracked porcelain on my face. "Will you need to postpone tonight's ceremony?"

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. "Just until next month. You understand, don't you? You always understand."

I did understand. I understood that I would never wear the Luna crown. I understood that the robes I'd bled for would rot in that chest. I understood that understanding was all I would ever be asked to do.

"Before you decide," I said quietly, "I should remind you that your father's Moon Ceremony is tonight. You asked me to attend."

"Right." Ethan brightened, clearly relieved by the change of subject. "You'll still come? Mother specifically requested your presence."

Victoria's fingers tightened on his arm, but her smile never wavered. "How thoughtful of Eleanor. I'm sure she has something special planned."

The knowing look in her eyes made my blood run cold. But I simply nodded, already seeing how this night would end—not with my marking, but with my final humiliation.

"I'll be there," I promised, even as Luna whispered what we both knew: *This is the last time. The hundredth betrayal will be the last.*

The Moon Ceremony pavilion glowed with a thousand silver lanterns, each one casting dancing shadows across the gathered wolves of the Black Crest Pack. I stood at the entrance, my white Luna gown pristine despite the earlier events, my spine straight despite the weight crushing my chest.

"Olivia, dear, how... punctual." Eleanor Hayes's voice cut through the murmur of conversation like a blade wrapped in silk. The former Luna sat at the high table, her gray hair crowned with a circlet of moonstones that caught the light with every turn of her head. "Still wearing white, I see. After ninety-nine ceremonies, one might think you'd choose a different color."

The laughter that rippled through the crowd felt like claws against my skin. I forced my lips into a pleasant smile, the same one I'd perfected over seven years.

"White suits hope, doesn't it?" I replied softly, taking my assigned seat—not at the high table where a true Luna would sit, but at a side table with the lesser pack members.

Eleanor's eyes glittered with malice. "Hope? Is that what we're calling desperation these days?" She leaned forward, her voice carrying to every corner of the pavilion. "Tell me, common wolf, do you keep count? Or have you lost track of how many times my son has chosen duty over... whatever it is you offer?"

*Let me rip her throat out,* Luna snarled, pacing restlessly in my mind.

But I couldn't. I wouldn't. My gaze found Ethan across the pavilion, sitting in the Alpha's chair, Victoria positioned at his right hand where I should have been. He watched his mother torment me, his dark eyes unreadable, his silence more damning than any words could be.

"Each ceremony is a blessing," I managed, though the words tasted like broken glass. "The Moon Goddess has her timing."

"The Moon Goddess," Eleanor scoffed, "has made her opinion quite clear. Ninety-nine times clear."

Victoria rose from her seat then, a crystal goblet of ceremonial wine in her hand. She moved with the fluid grace of a predator, her smile sweet as poisoned honey. "Now, Eleanor, we shouldn't be too harsh. After all, Olivia's persistence is... admirable."

She glided toward me, and every instinct screamed danger. But I remained seated, trapped by protocol and the hundred eyes watching this performance.

"A toast," Victoria announced, raising her goblet. "To our patient Olivia, who understands that true love sometimes means accepting your place."

As she leaned forward, her hand tilted. The deep red wine cascaded down, drenching my white gown in a spreading stain that looked like blood in the lantern light. The gasps quickly turned to laughter—cruel, knowing laughter that echoed off the pavilion walls.

"Oh!" Victoria's hand flew to her mouth in exaggerated shock. "How clumsy of me. Your beautiful gown... the one you've worn so many times..."

The wine soaked through to my skin, cold and sticky. I stood slowly, dignity the only armor I had left. Ethan half-rose from his chair, then settled back, his jaw tight but his intervention absent.

"Excuse me," I whispered, fleeing toward the back of the pavilion as the laughter followed me like a pack of hunting wolves.

I pressed myself against the cold stone wall behind the pavilion, my chest heaving as Luna thrashed inside me. The stained gown clung to my skin, the sweet scent of wine mixing with the bitter taste of humiliation.

*Enough,* Luna howled. *This is enough!*

My hands shook as I tried to blot the stain with trembling fingers. Through the wall, I could hear Eleanor's voice carrying on about "breeding" and "suitable matches," each word another nail in the coffin of my dignity.

I needed to prepare for the full-moon hunt—the ceremony's traditional ending. My ritual items were stored in the small preparation chamber nearby. At least there, I could find a moment's peace to steady my racing heart.

The chamber door creaked as I pushed it open. My preparation basket sat on the wooden table, just where I'd placed it this morning. But as I lifted the lid, my heart sank.

The sacred Luna oils, carefully distilled from moonflowers over seven full moons, had been diluted with common water. The silvery sheen was gone, replaced by a cloudy, useless mixture. My ritual candles—hand-dipped in blessed beeswax—had been replaced with cheap, mismatched substitutes that would never hold the sacred flame.

"No," I whispered, my fingers trembling as I sorted through the ruined items. This wasn't accident or neglect. This was deliberate.

The horn sounded outside, calling all wolves to prepare for the hunt. In minutes, I would be expected to join them, to run beneath the full moon with diluted oils and false candles, my stained gown marking me as the pack's fool.

And somewhere in the pavilion, Victoria was smiling, knowing she had sabotaged not just my items, but my very last shred of hope.