Alexia POV

Freedom tasted like stale beer and floor peanuts, but I had never tasted anything sweeter.

It had been three weeks since I walked out of the Obsidian Pack, severing the ties that had choked me for years. I hadn't made it to Vienna yet. My savings hadn't stretched as far as I hoped, and the human world was brutally expensive.

I was working in a dive bar on the outskirts of a human town called Grayton, just inches outside the Pack's territory border. It was risky being this close, but I needed the money for a plane ticket.

I sat at the battered upright piano in the corner of the bar. The keys were tacky with spilled spirits, and the E-flat was flat in the literal sense, but the humans didn't care. They tipped me in crumpled dollar bills to play sad songs that matched their cheap drinks.

"Hey, sweetheart, play 'Piano Man' again!" a drunk patron yelled, waving a bottle.

I smiled tightly, my fingers finding the familiar, weary chords of the intro.

The door to the bar opened. A gust of rain and wind blew in, carrying a scent that made my blood turn to ice.

*Rain-soaked pine and ozone.*

Jacob.

The music died under my fingers.

He stood in the doorway, dripping wet, looking violently out of place in his tailored Italian suit among the flannel and denim. His eyes scanned the room and locked onto me instantly.

He didn't look angry. He looked... relieved?

He walked toward me, ignoring the bartender who shouted about a cover charge.

"Alexia," he breathed, stopping right by the piano bench.

I stood up abruptly, putting the piano between us like a shield. "Go away, Jacob."

"I’ve been looking everywhere for you," he said, his voice low and intense. "The Pack... the house is quiet without you. My wolf is restless."

"Buy a white noise machine," I snapped.

He flinched. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. He snapped it open. Inside sat a diamond necklace. It was huge, gaudy, and completely devoid of personality.

"I brought you a gift," he said, offering it like a peace offering to a wild animal. "To make up for the... misunderstanding at the party. Come home, Alexia. I’ll make you a Pack Consultant. You can have a salary. A real room."

I looked at the diamonds. They glittered coldly under the neon bar lights.

"A Consultant?" I laughed, a harsh, dry sound. "Is that the corporate title for a Mate you're ashamed of?"

"It's a title," he insisted, desperation creeping in. "You wanted to be useful. You wanted to help the Pack. Remember? You told me once, your dream was to heal our people with your music."

"No, Jacob," I said, leaning in, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I told you my dream was to find my family. My *real* family. The White Wolf line. Music was just how I survived waiting for them."

He blinked, confused. He didn't remember. He had rewritten my history to fit his narrative.

"I don't want your diamonds," I said. "I have a plane ticket to Vienna. I'm leaving tomorrow."

Panic flashed in his eyes. "You can't. You're Pack. You're mine."

He reached for my hand. The electricity of the bond sparked, but instead of pleasure, it felt like a chemical burn.

Suddenly, his phone rang. It wasn't a normal ringtone; it was the emergency siren alert used by the Pack.

He froze. He answered it, fumbling and putting it on speaker without thinking.

"Jacob!" Kassandra’s voice shrieked through the speaker, hysterical and high-pitched. "Help me! Rogues! They've breached the perimeter! I'm at the old mill! They're going to kill me!"

The color drained from Jacob’s face. The old mill was only a mile from here.

"Kassandra," he gasped.

He looked at me. For a second, just a second, I saw the conflict. He was here to bring me home. I was his Mate.

"Go," I said coldly.

He didn't even hesitate. He didn't say goodbye. He didn't check if I was safe. He turned and bolted out of the bar, leaving the velvet box on the sticky piano keys.

"Wait!" the bartender yelled. "You didn't pay!"

I watched his taillights disappear into the rain.

Then, a howl ripped through the night air. It wasn't a Pack howl. It was the discordant, jagged howl of a Rogue. And it was close.

Too close.

The window next to me exploded inward.

A massive, mangy wolf crashed through the glass, snarling, foam dripping from its jaws onto the floorboards.

The humans screamed.

I didn't shift. I couldn't shift in front of humans. I grabbed the only weapon I had—the heavy velvet box Jacob had left behind—and smashed it into the wolf's snout.

But there were more. I could smell them. They weren't just at the mill. They were everywhere.

And Jacob had taken the only car.

Alexia POV

Pain.

It wasn’t just a sensation; it was a universe.

It radiated from my right hand, a white-hot agony that made my vision blur and my stomach churn.

I was lying in a bed. The sharp, chemical sting of antiseptic mixed with the earthy scent of wolfsbane told me I was back in the Obsidian Pack’s infirmary.

I tried to move my hand. I couldn't. It was encased in a heavy cast, elevated on a pillow like a grotesque trophy.

Memories flooded back, violent and disjointed. The bar. The Rogues. The adrenaline spiking in my blood.

I had fought. I had run. I had made it to the edge of the woods near the mill, thinking I could hide in the shadows.

Then I saw him.

Jacob was there. He was fighting three Rogues, protecting Kassandra, who was cowering behind a pile of rubble shaking like a leaf.

I had yelled a warning. A Rogue was flanking him from the blind spot.

Jacob had turned. He saw me. And he saw the Rogue lunging at Kassandra.

He had a choice. A split-second decision that would define our entire existence. Save me from the Rogue closing in on my right, or save Kassandra.

He chose her.

He tackled the Rogue attacking Kassandra. The one attacking me clamped its jaws down on my right hand—my life, my music—and crunched.

I could still hear the sound of my own bones snapping.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears leaking out to dampen the pillow.

"She's awake," a gruff voice said.

I opened my eyes. The Pack Elders were standing around my bed like vultures waiting for a carcass to cool. Jacob was there too, standing by the window, refusing to look at me.

"How is my hand?" I croaked, my throat feeling like it was filled with glass.

The Pack Healer, a kind old man named Doc Evans, looked down, his expression grim. "The bones were... shattered, Alexia. The nerve damage is severe. You will keep the hand, but..."

"Will I play?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Doc Evans hesitated. "Not like before. Not professionally."

Silence crashed into the room.

My dream. Vienna. My music. Everything I had worked for, every scale, every hour of practice. Gone.

A sob trapped itself in my throat, burning like acid. I refused to let it out. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"We need to discuss the situation," Elder Marcus said, stepping forward. He was a stern man who hated anything that disrupted his precious order. "Kassandra has been deeply traumatized by the attack. She needs stability. The Pack needs a strong Luna."

I looked at Jacob. He wouldn't meet my eyes. Coward.

"We have decided," Elder Marcus continued, his voice devoid of empathy, "to officially install Kassandra as the Acting Luna. And... we need the Moonstone. It is a Pack heirloom. It must be worn by the Luna for the protection ceremony."

They wanted to strip me of my title—which I never really had—and take my mother’s necklace to give to the woman Jacob saved while I was being maimed.

"Jacob," I whispered. "Is this your decision?"

He finally looked at me, his eyes swimming with a pathetic mix of regret and resolve. "It's for the Pack, Alexia. Kassandra... she's fragile right now. She needs the symbol of authority to feel safe. I still care about you. I'll take care of you."

"Take care of me?" I laughed, a broken, jagged sound. "You let my hand be crushed."

"It was chaos!" he defended weakly, shifting his weight. "I couldn't save everyone!"

"No," I said, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You just couldn't save *me*."

I looked at my cast. Then I looked at the Elders.

"I accept," I said.

They blinked, stunned by my compliance. "You do?"

"I, Alexia Bell, reject the title of Luna. I don't want it. It's tainted."

I reached up with my good left hand and unclasped the Moonstone. It felt warm against my skin, pulsing with a faint light only I could see.

"But," I said, holding it tight before handing it over. "I have conditions."

"Conditions?" Elder Marcus scoffed. "You are an Omega."

"I am the victim of your Alpha's negligence," I snapped, my voice gaining steel. "Condition one: You pay for my medical bills. All of them. Including reconstructive surgery if I find a specialist abroad."

Jacob nodded quickly, desperate to alleviate his guilt. "Done."

"Condition two," I continued. "You pay me royalties for every single healing song I composed that you use in this Pack. Retroactively."

"That's absurd!"

Kassandra burst into the room. She was wearing a silk robe, looking perfectly fine, not a scratch on her. She looked like a princess interrupting a funeral.

She marched over to Jacob, clutching his arm, glaring at me. "She's greedy, Jacob! She's trying to bankrupt us!"

"Then stop using my music," I said calmly. "Let the wolves go mad without my lullabies. See how long your 'stability' lasts."

The Elders exchanged nervous glances. They knew the power of my songs. They knew the peace I brought was the only thing keeping the feral instincts at bay.

"Fine," Jacob gritted out. "We will pay."

"Good," I said.

I tossed the Moonstone onto the bedspread. It landed near Kassandra’s hand.

She snatched it up like a greedy child, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

"Now get out," I said, turning my head away. "All of you. I'm tired."

Alexia POV

The silence of the infirmary was a mercy after they left, but it was a mercy that didn't last.

Night fell. The moon rose, casting long, skeletal shadows across my bed.

*Alexia?*

Jacob’s voice slithered into my head, uninvited.

I didn't answer. I kept my eyes fixed on the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the plaster.

*I know you're awake,* he persisted, his tone shifting from tentative to annoyed. *Look, about today... you have to understand. The Rogue was closer to Kassandra. It was a tactical decision.*

*Tactical,* I replied via the link, my mental voice as cold as the grave. *Is that what you call it?*

*Stop being dramatic,* he snapped, his guilt curdling into anger. *You were reckless. What were you doing at that bar anyway? If you hadn't run away, none of this would have happened. You provoked the Rogues by being out of territory.*

Gaslighting. He was rewriting reality again, twisting the narrative to make himself the hero and me the villain.

*I was leaving because you treat me like garbage,* I shot back. *And for the record, Kassandra wasn't 'traumatized.' I saw her, Jacob. She was smiling when the Rogue bit me. She stepped back to let it happen.*

*That's a lie!* Jacob roared so loud it echoed in my skull. *Kassandra loves this Pack! She loves me! She would never hurt you. You're delusional with pain. Stop lying!*

Alpha Command.

He tried to use the Command to silence me, to force my mind to bend to his will.

Pressure built in my skull, the familiar weight meant to crush a subordinate. But this time, it felt... different. It didn't crush me. It felt hollow. Distant. Like a shout heard from underwater.

Maybe because the bond was fraying. Maybe because my respect for him was dead.

*I'm not lying, Jacob,* I said, my mental voice steady. *But it doesn't matter. You believe what you want to believe. You always do.*

*Alexia, wait—*

I visualized a wall. A thick, obsidian wall. I slammed it down between our minds.

The connection severed. The silence returned. It was absolute.

I sat up. My head spun, but I forced myself to move.

I couldn't stay here. Not another night.

I grabbed a notepad from the bedside table. With my shaky left hand, I wrote a list of the songs they owed me for. I left it on the pillow.

I managed to dress myself in the clothes I had worn to the bar—now torn and bloodied, but they were all I had.

I slipped out of the infirmary window.

The Pack was distracted. Loud music and raucous cheering came from the main square.

I crept through the shadows until I could see the square.

A bonfire roared, sending sparks into the night sky. Jacob stood on a platform, placing a crown of flowers on Kassandra’s head. She was wearing my Moonstone. It looked dull against her skin, opaque and lifeless, devoid of the inner fire it held when it was mine.

"To our Luna!" the Pack chanted.

Fireworks exploded overhead, painting the sky in gold and red.

I stood in the darkness, cradling my broken hand against my chest.

A couple of Betas walked past my hiding spot, laughing, swaying slightly with drink.

"Did you hear about Alexia?" one asked. "Hand crushed. Useless now."

"Good riddance," the other sneered. "She was always a downer. Kassandra is so much more fun. A real Luna."

"Yeah. What was Alexia gonna do anyway? Play piano for rogues?"

They laughed, the sound grating against my ears, and moved on.

I leaned against a tree, the rough bark biting into my shoulder.

*Useless.*

*Downer.*

*Alpha's Shame.*

I looked at the fireworks one last time. They were celebrating their own demise, though they didn't know it yet. They were celebrating a liar and a weakling Alpha.

I turned my back on the light.

I walked toward the border. My hand throbbed in time with my heart, but my steps were lighter than they had been in years.

I had no piano. I had no money. I had a broken hand.

But I had the truth. And for the first time in my life, I belonged only to myself.

I disappeared into the night, leaving the Obsidian Pack to their hollow victory.