I don't remember falling. Only the cold, wet earth against my cheek and the taste of mud in my mouth. The rain had turned the ground to sludge, soaking through my clothes until I couldn't feel my limbs anymore. Somewhere in the fog of my fading consciousness, I heard footsteps—light, hurried, and determined.

"Luna Aria!" The voice was soft but urgent. Pearl. Her hands found mine, pulling me from the mud with surprising strength for an Omega. "You can't stay out here. You'll die in this cold."

I tried to speak, to tell her about Ayden, but my teeth chattered uncontrollably. She must have understood because she was already moving toward the basement, her footsteps quick and careful.

"Wait," I managed to croak. "We can't... they'll find him... they'll..."

"Shh," she whispered, guiding me back to shelter. "I know what they'll do. That's why we have to move quickly."

Inside, the air was only marginally warmer, but at least we were out of the rain. I heard Pearl's soft gasp when she found Ayden's body, wrapped in our only clean blanket.

"Oh, Luna," she breathed. "I'm so sorry."

I reached for her blindly, my fingers finding her arm. "Help me bury him. Please. Before they come."

"The ground is too hard," she said after a moment of silence. "And if we mark a grave, they'll... they'll desecrate it. I've seen what they do to those they deem traitors."

My heart clenched at the truth of her words. Even in death, Boston would not let Ayden rest in peace.

"Then what?" I whispered, desperation clawing at my throat. "He deserves... he deserves..."

"A pyre," Pearl said firmly. "In the deep woods. The Omegas use them sometimes, for those who can't afford the pack burial rites. It's... it's not what he should have had, but it's the only way to keep him safe."

I nodded, unable to speak past the knot in my throat.

Pearl worked with quiet efficiency, gathering what we needed. I heard her wrapping Ayden's body in the blanket, her movements gentle but quick. She wouldn't let me help. "You need to save your strength," she insisted.

We moved through the woods slowly, Pearl guiding me by the elbow. The rain had turned to a fine mist, and the forest was eerily quiet around us. I couldn't see the trees, but I could smell the damp pine and feel the uneven ground beneath my feet.

"Here," Pearl said finally. "This is far enough. No one will find him here."

I heard the rustle of dry leaves and branches, the sound of Pearl building the pyre with her own hands. When she was finished, she helped me kneel beside it.

"I don't have the words," I whispered. "For the rite. I don't remember..."

"Just speak from your heart," she said softly. "That's all he ever needed."

The flames caught quickly, devouring the pyre with a fierce hunger. I reached out, feeling the heat against my palms, imagining I could feel Ayden's spirit rising with the smoke.

"Fly free, my little wolf," I whispered as the fire consumed my son's body. "May the Moon Goddess welcome you home."

When it was done, Pearl gathered the ashes with reverent hands, placing them in a small wooden box she'd constructed from old bakery crates. She wrapped it in the only clean cloth I had left—a worn scrap of my old Luna ceremonial robe.

"He's safe now," she said, pressing the box into my hands. "No one can hurt him anymore."

As I clutched the makeshift coffin to my chest, I heard the distant sound of voices from the direction of the pack house. Pearl's body tensed beside me.

"Someone's coming," she whispered. "We need to go."

But before we could move, a familiar scent cut through the damp forest air—expensive perfume and the unmistakable aura of Milan Hernandez. She was close, too close, and she wasn't alone.

"Alpha," I heard her voice, honey-sweet and dripping with false concern. "You should know what your traitorous mate is planning. She's organizing an unauthorized gathering to undermine your authority. She's mocking your leadership, right under your nose."

My blood turned to ice as I heard Boston's low growl in response. Pearl's hand found mine, squeezing tightly.

"Stay quiet," she breathed. "If they find us here..."

But I already knew what they would find. And I knew what it would cost us both.

I heard the summons before Pearl did. The Alpha tone reverberated through the basement walls, making the very air tremble with Boston's rage. 'Pearl Mitchell. Packhouse. Now.' The command was unmistakable, and the fear that gripped my heart had nothing to do with my own safety.

Pearl's hand found mine, squeezing gently. 'Stay here, Luna,' she whispered. 'I'll be back.'

But I knew she wouldn't be. Not as a member of this pack. Not after helping me.

I couldn't see her leave, but I could hear the soft rustle of her clothes, the hesitant steps she took toward the door. She paused at the threshold, and for a moment, I thought she might turn back. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and walked out, closing the door with a quiet click that echoed in the emptiness of our basement home.

The walk to the packhouse was short, but I could feel every step as if I were walking it myself. Through our fading mate bond, I caught whispers of Boston's emotions—cold fury, wounded pride, the absolute certainty that he was right. Always right.

I didn't need to be there to know what was happening. I could hear it all in my mind.

'You've been seen with the traitor,' Boston's voice would be low, controlled, the Alpha tone wrapping around each word like a noose. 'You've provided aid to an enemy of this pack.'

Pearl would stand her ground. She wasn't brave because she wasn't afraid. She was brave because she couldn't be any other way. 'She's still Luna,' she would say, her voice steady. 'And her son deserved better than to die alone.'

Then would come the silence. That terrible, expectant silence that preceded an Alpha's judgment.

'You have two choices, Omega,' Boston would say. 'Renounce her. Apologize for your actions. Or face exile as a rogue.'

And Pearl, my sweet, foolish Pearl, would choose exile without hesitation.

I was right. The footsteps returning to the basement were different—lighter, freer, but tinged with a sadness that made my heart ache. Pearl slipped back inside, bringing with her the scent of rain and something else. Something final.

'Pearl?' I called, reaching out with my hands.

'I'm here, Luna,' she said, taking my fingers in hers. 'I'm here.'

But I could hear the lie in her voice, the careful way she avoided mentioning the packhouse. 'What happened?'

'Nothing,' she said brightly, too brightly. 'Just some questions. They needed to understand why I was helping you.'

I didn't believe her, but I didn't press. She was protecting me in her own way, and I would let her have this small kindness.

We worked in silence for a while, preparing the wooden box that would hold Ayden's ashes. My fingers traced the rough edges, feeling every imperfection, every splinter. It wasn't worthy of an Alpha's son, but it was all we had.

'He deserves better,' I whispered.

'He has you,' Pearl replied simply. 'That's worth more than any ceremonial box.'

I reached into the pocket of my worn dress, fingers closing around the small, folded photograph I'd kept hidden. I couldn't see it anymore, but I remembered every detail—Ayden's smile, his bright eyes, the unmistakable glow of Alpha power that had been visible even then.

'Pearl,' I said, holding out the photograph. 'Put this in with him.'

She took it, unfolding the paper with careful hands. I heard her sharp intake of breath. 'Luna... his eyes...'

'I know,' I said quietly. 'I saw it before I went blind. That's why I kept it. So someone would know, someday.'

Pearl tucked the photograph beneath the ashes, her movements reverent. 'Everyone will see it,' she promised. 'Everyone will know what they did to an Alpha's son.'

The funeral procession began as the sun set. I couldn't see the torches that lined our path, but I could smell the smoke, hear the crackling flames. Pearl and two other Omega volunteers carried the wooden box, their steps slow and measured. I walked behind them, my back straight, my face a mask of dignity I didn't feel.

The whispers started immediately. Pack members lined the path, their voices sharp with mockery.

'Look at her,' someone hissed. 'Playing the grieving mother when she betrayed the mate bond.'

'Her son was a rogue,' another voice sneered. 'A bastard who never deserved to live.'

I kept walking, one step in front of the other. My hearing had sharpened since I lost my sight, and every cruel word cut deeper than any knife. But I refused to flinch. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Behind me, Pearl's footsteps faltered once, just once. I heard her breath catch, felt her anger rise like a tide. But she kept walking too, carrying my son's ashes with the honor he deserved.

We reached the clearing where we would perform the final rites. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and earth, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the wolves of the pack, watching from the shadows.

Ayden would have his funeral. He would have his dignity. And I would make sure they all saw what they had done to an innocent child.

The rocky ground beneath my feet felt uneven as we approached the outskirts of the pack cemetery. I couldn't see the desolate landscape, but I could feel it—a place reserved for the unbonded and the disgraced. The wind carried the scent of wild grass and distant pines, and beneath it all, the faint metallic tang of old blood. This was where rogues were buried, where the pack disposed of those they deemed unworthy of their sacred grounds. My son, an Alpha's true heir, would be laid to rest among them. The irony burned like acid in my throat.

Pearl's voice broke the silence, soft but clear in the evening air. 'We gather under the Moon Goddess's light,' she began, reciting the ancient prayer for departed pups. My heart clenched. That prayer was meant to be spoken by the Luna or the pack Healer—never by an Omega bakery clerk. But Pearl continued, her voice growing stronger with each word. 'May she welcome this innocent soul into her eternal embrace, and may his spirit find peace in her divine light.'

I felt the wooden box being lowered to the ground, and my knees buckled as I knelt beside it. My fingers traced the rough edges, memorizing every imperfection. This was all I could give him now—this makeshift coffin, this forbidden prayer, this moment of dignity snatched from the jaws of disgrace.

A commotion erupted from the gathering crowd. 'What is this blasphemy?' The voice was sharp, female, and dripping with contempt. Sienna Voss. Milan's right hand and the architect of my social exile. I heard her heels clicking against the stone as she pushed through the crowd.

'How dare you perform a sacred rite for a rogue pup?' she snarled, and I heard the sound of a scuffle. One of the Omega volunteers cried out in pain. 'Stop this farce immediately!'

Pearl's voice wavered but didn't break. 'This child deserves—'

'What this child deserves is nothing,' Sienna spat. 'And you'll be lucky if you don't join him in exile for this little stunt. Now hand over that box before I tear it apart myself.'

The tension in the air thickened, pressing against my skin like a physical weight. I could feel the other Omegas trembling, their courage wavering in the face of Sienna's aggression. But Pearl stood her ground, her voice steady despite the threat. 'You have no authority here, Sienna. This is a sacred moment, and even you cannot disrupt it.'

Before Sienna could respond, a new presence cut through the chaos—a suffocating wave of Alpha dominance that made every wolf present bare their necks in submission. Boston. My mate. My betrayer. His scent hit me like a physical blow, and my wolf, what little remained of her, whimpered in agony.

'Enough!' His voice thundered across the clearing, and I heard the Omegas collapse to the ground, their bodies forced into submission by the sheer power of his aura. 'What is this pathetic farce?'

Milan's voice followed, honey-sweet and poisonous. 'Alpha, they're trying to make a mockery of pack law. Holding an unauthorized funeral for a rogue pup... it's an insult to everything we stand for.'

Maximus's cruel laughter echoed in the background, the sound of it twisting in my gut like a knife. 'Pathetic,' he sneered. 'Begging for scraps of dignity for a bastard.'

Boston's footsteps approached, each one deliberate and heavy. I could feel his anger radiating like heat, his pride wounded by this challenge to his authority. 'I command you to stop this ritual immediately,' he growled, his Alpha tone making the very air vibrate with power. 'This... this mockery ends now.'

His hand closed around the wooden box, and I heard Pearl's cry of protest. 'No! Please, Alpha! Let him have this one moment of peace!'

'Peace?' Boston's laugh was cold, devoid of any warmth or compassion. 'This rogue pup will find no peace in my pack. And if you continue this charade, I'll throw his ashes into the river myself. Is that what you want, Aria? For your precious son to be scattered like dust on the wind?'

My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms until I felt blood trickle down my wrists. The mate bond between us pulsed with his anger, his certainty, his absolute belief that he was in the right. And beneath it all, I felt something else—a flicker of doubt, quickly smothered but unmistakable.

He didn't know. After all this time, after everything he'd done, he still didn't know what he had destroyed.