The monthly pack barbecue had always been one of my favorite traditions. Families gathered on the sprawling lawn behind the pack house, children ran between the tables while their parents shared stories and laughter, and the scent of grilling meat mingled with the late summer air. As Luna, I usually helped coordinate the event, ensuring everyone felt welcome and the festivities ran smoothly.

But this month, everything felt different.

I stood at the edge of the patio, one hand resting on my growing bump, watching Alessandro and Lola examine the massive grill setup that had been arranged near the garden. The August heat was already oppressive at ten in the morning, and I could feel sweat beading at my hairline despite the loose sundress I'd chosen specifically for the weather.

"The coals need to be perfect for this much meat," Lola was saying, her voice carrying easily across the space. She wore a flowing white top and perfectly fitted shorts that made her look effortlessly elegant even in the heat. "In France, they taught us that temperature control is everything."

Alessandro nodded, hanging on her every word as usual. "I never thought about the European techniques. We've always just done things the traditional way."

"Oh, tradition has its place," Lola laughed, that musical sound that seemed to enchant everyone within hearing distance. "But sometimes innovation can improve even the oldest customs."

I approached them slowly, hoping to insert myself into the conversation. As Luna, organizing pack events was supposed to be my responsibility, and I had ideas about the menu and timing that I'd been planning for weeks.

"The weather forecast shows it'll hit ninety-five degrees by noon," I said, joining their circle. "I was thinking we might want to start the grilling early, maybe set up some additional shade structures—"

"Actually," Lola interrupted with a bright smile, "I was just thinking the same thing. This heat is going to be brutal." She turned to Alessandro with an expression of sudden inspiration. "You know, since Mackenzie isn't doing much anyway, maybe she could handle the grilling? I mean, she's just standing around, and someone needs to tend the fire."

The suggestion hit me like a physical blow. I stared at her, certain I'd misheard. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The grilling," she repeated, as if it were the most reasonable suggestion in the world. "You're not really busy with anything else, are you? And someone experienced should manage the temperature control."

I felt my mouth open and close like a fish gasping for air. The grills were positioned in the full sun with no shade coverage, and the heat radiating from the coals would be intense enough to make anyone sweat through their clothes within minutes. At seven months pregnant, spending hours over hot grills in ninety-degree weather wasn't just uncomfortable—it could be dangerous.

"Lola, I don't think—" I began, but she was already turning to Alessandro with that expectant look that always seemed to get her whatever she wanted.

"Don't you think it would be good for her?" she asked him, her tone light and conversational. "Mackenzie always seems so... restless. Maybe some activity would help."

I turned to Alessandro desperately, waiting for him to point out the obvious problems with this suggestion. Surely he would remember that I was carrying his child, that the heat could be harmful, that asking a pregnant Luna to work over hot grills while the pack's guest relaxed in the shade was beyond inappropriate.

But when our eyes met, I saw only mild consideration, as if he were actually weighing the merits of Lola's proposal.

"It would be good exercise," he said finally, with a casual shrug that shattered something inside my chest. "Fresh air, staying active. The pregnancy books all say movement is important."

The words hit me like a slap. I stood there, stunned, as Lola clapped her hands together in delight.

"Perfect! I'll help Alessandro set up the shade tent over there where we can supervise." She gestured toward a cluster of trees that would provide perfect relief from the sun. "We can make sure everything runs smoothly."

I watched in numb disbelief as they walked away together, already deep in animated conversation about tent placement and seating arrangements. Alessandro's hand rested briefly on the small of Lola's back as he guided her toward the trees, a casual intimacy that he hadn't shown me in months.

The first families began arriving an hour later, and I found myself stationed beside the enormous grill array like a servant at my own pack's celebration. The heat was already unbearable, and sweat soaked through my dress as I turned sausages and flipped burgers under the merciless sun. My back ached from standing, my feet were swelling in the heat, and the baby seemed to be protesting the temperature by kicking restlessly against my ribs.

From the blessed shade of their tent, I could hear Alessandro and Lola's laughter mixing with the cheerful voices of pack members who stopped by to chat with them. No one seemed to find it odd that their pregnant Luna was working like hired help while their Alpha entertained his guest in comfort.

By the time the last burger came off the grill, my vision was swimming from the heat, and my hands were shaking with exhaustion. But what hurt more than the physical discomfort was the sound of Alessandro's genuine laughter drifting across the lawn—the kind of joy I had spent five years trying to earn and never once achieved.

The kitchen had always been my sanctuary. Even after becoming Luna, I found peace in the familiar routine of preparing meals, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, the satisfying sizzle of onions hitting hot oil. This morning, I was making Alessandro's favorite breakfast—blueberry pancakes with maple syrup—hoping to recapture some of the warmth we'd shared before Lola's return.

The baby kicked gently against my ribs as I whisked the batter, and I smiled despite everything. At least this little one would know they were wanted, would grow up feeling loved and secure in ways I never had.

"Oh, how domestic."

I turned to find Lola leaning against the doorframe, her auburn hair perfectly styled despite the early hour. She wore a silk robe that probably cost more than most pack members made in a month, and her expression held that familiar mixture of amusement and disdain that I was learning to dread.

"Good morning, Lola," I said carefully, turning back to the stove. "I'm making breakfast if you'd like some."

"How thoughtful." Her voice dripped with false sweetness as she moved into the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the tile floor. "Though I suppose that's what you do now, isn't it? Cook and clean while the real decisions get made elsewhere."

I kept my focus on the pancakes, flipping them with steady hands even as my heart began to race. "I'm the Luna of this pack. My responsibilities extend far beyond—"

"Luna." She laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. "Is that what we're calling it? Because from where I stand, it looks more like you're playing house while Alessandro handles the actual leadership."

The spatula trembled in my grip. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come now, Mackenzie. We both know you're not really Luna material, don't we?" Lola moved closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Some Lunas command respect through strength and wisdom. Others... well, others just happen to be in the right place when an Alpha needs a mate bond."

I turned to face her fully, my protective instincts flaring. "You don't know anything about my relationship with Alessandro."

"Don't I?" Her smile was razor-sharp. "I know he lights up when I walk into a room. I know he hangs on my every word. I know he gave me your seat at the head table without a second thought." She tilted her head, studying me like a predator sizing up prey. "Tell me, what exactly do you bring to this pack besides a convenient womb?"

The words hit like physical blows, each one finding its mark in the deepest parts of my insecurity. "Stop."

"Alessandro deserves better than a weak mate who can't even hold his interest," she continued, circling me slowly. "He deserves someone who can stand beside him as an equal, not someone who hides in kitchens making breakfast like a servant."

"I said stop!" The words tore from my throat, louder than I'd intended. Five years of swallowed pride, of diminished worth, of watching my mate's attention drift to everyone but me—it all came pouring out in that single, desperate shout.

Lola's eyes flashed with triumph. In one swift motion, she raised her hand and slapped herself across the face—hard. The sound echoed through the kitchen like a gunshot, and she immediately let out a piercing scream that would wake half the pack house.

"Help! Someone help me!" She stumbled backward, one hand pressed to her reddening cheek, tears already streaming down her face. "She attacked me! The Luna attacked me!"

I stared at her in shock, my mind struggling to process what had just happened. "What—no, I didn't—"

Footsteps thundered down the hallway, and within seconds, the kitchen filled with pack members. Alessandro burst through the doorway first, his hair disheveled from sleep, followed by Beta Marcus and several others who had heard Lola's screams.

"What happened?" Alessandro's Alpha voice boomed through the space as he took in the scene—Lola sobbing against the counter, her face already showing the red mark of her self-inflicted slap, and me standing frozen by the stove with the spatula still in my hand.

"She just... she just lost it," Lola sobbed, her voice breaking with perfectly crafted anguish. "I was trying to be friendly, to make conversation, and she started yelling at me. When I tried to calm her down, she hit me."

"That's not—I never touched her!" I looked desperately at Alessandro, willing him to see the truth, to use his Alpha senses to detect the lie. "She slapped herself! I saw her do it!"

But Alessandro wasn't looking at me. His attention was entirely focused on Lola as she collapsed into his arms, her tears soaking into his sleep shirt. His hands moved gently over her face, examining the mark with a tenderness that made my chest ache.

"This is unacceptable," he said, his voice cold as winter stone. When he finally looked at me, there was no warmth, no recognition of our mate bond—only the stern disapproval of an Alpha addressing a pack member who had stepped out of line. "Attacking a guest in our home, especially in your condition—what were you thinking?"

"I didn't attack anyone!" My voice cracked with desperation. "Alessandro, please, you have to believe me. I would never—"

"The evidence speaks for itself." Beta Marcus stepped forward, his expression smug with satisfaction. "Look at her face, Alpha. And we all heard the screaming."

Other pack members murmured their agreement, and I realized with growing horror that they had all made up their minds. In their eyes, I was the unstable, pregnant Luna who had lashed out at an innocent guest. The truth didn't matter—only the story they could see.

"You'll be confined to the guest quarters until further notice," Alessandro announced, his Alpha tone making it an unbreakable command. "No pack activities, no Luna duties. If I hear of any further aggressive behavior, there will be more serious consequences."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Confined. Stripped of my duties. Treated like a criminal in my own home while the real culprit sobbed crocodile tears into my mate's chest.

"Alessandro," I whispered, one last desperate plea. "Please. You know me. You know I wouldn't—"

But he had already turned away, his arm protectively around Lola's shoulders as he guided her from the kitchen. The other pack members followed, leaving me alone with the smell of burning pancakes and the taste of betrayal bitter on my tongue.

I sank into a chair, my hands shaking as the full weight of what had just happened settled over me. Lola had played her hand perfectly, and I had walked right into her trap. Worse still, Alessandro had believed her without question, without even trying to uncover the truth.

The baby kicked again, harder this time, as if sensing my distress. I placed both hands over my bump, whispering soft reassurances even as my world crumbled around me.

I was truly alone now, and Lola Freeman had just shown me exactly how powerless I really was.