"To a prosperous winter," I announced, raising the silver ceremonial goblet.

"To the Luna!" the crowd echoed back.

The Winter Festival banquet hummed with the chatter of three hundred pack elites. Elder Thorne tapped his glass against mine.

"Your trade agreements secured us enough grain to survive the frost," Thorne said.

"It was a collective effort, Elder," I replied.

"Modest as always, Seraphina. Alpha Kaelen is lucky to have you."

Before I could thank him, the oak double doors smashed open.

The heavy wood slammed against the stone walls. The violent crack silenced the room instantly.

I lowered the cup.

Alpha Kaelen strode into the hall. Blustering snow swirled past his boots, melting against the heated floorboards.

My eyes locked on his arms.

He carried a girl.

She wore a threadbare cotton dress, her thin frame shivering violently against his chest. An unfamiliar, sweet scent clung to her—a rogue Omega.

He didn't stop to greet the elders. He marched straight toward me at the head table.

"Kaelen?" I asked, keeping my tone perfectly level. "Who is this?"

He didn't answer. His hand shot out.

His fingers clamped over the silver goblet in my grip. He yanked it away, spilling dark red wine over my knuckles. He shoved the cup into the Omega's trembling hands.

"Drink, Elara," he ordered.

The girl whimpered, shrinking against his chest. "I... I'm scared, Alpha. Everyone is staring at me."

"Let them stare," he told her, his voice booming across the silent hall. "You are home now."

Kaelen turned his gaze to the crowd. He refused to look at me.

"The Moon Goddess has spoken," he declared to the three hundred wolves. "This is Elara. She is my Fated Mate."

A sharp, tearing agony ripped through the center of my chest.

The mate bond. Five years of shared strength, snapping like brittle wire inside my ribcage.

I locked my knees to stay standing. My spine went rigid. I pressed my thumbs into my palms, letting my nails dig hard enough to carve four bloody half-moons into the skin.

Murmurs erupted across the tables. Chairs scraped against the stone floor.

"Alpha," Elder Thorne spoke up from the front row. "Seraphina is your chosen Luna. You bound yourselves to this pack five years ago."

"The Goddess overrides tradition," Kaelen snapped.

"But the pack relies on Luna Seraphina," Elder Morrow added, standing up from his seat. "She negotiated the winter trade routes. She balances the treasury."

"Enough!" Kaelen roared. "I am the Alpha. My word is absolute."

Silence slammed back down over the room.

I looked at the elders. They lowered their heads, submitting to his Alpha command. I was entirely on my own.

"Does she override the pack laws?" I asked.

Kaelen finally met my gaze. His eyes flashed with warning. "Do not question the Goddess, Seraphina."

"I am questioning you," I corrected. "You bring a rogue into the sacred hall during the Winter Festival."

"She is not a rogue anymore," he shot back. "She is your future Luna."

I turned away from the spectacle. I adjusted my posture and stepped toward the high seat—the chair carved with the Luna's crest.

"Then we will discuss the separation terms in the morning," I said calmly. "I will have my bags packed."

A heavy hand slammed down on my shoulder.

Kaelen’s touch used to be my shield against the brutal winters. Now, his palm burned like a branding iron through my silk gown. My stomach cramped violently, a wave of nausea rolling through my gut.

He forcefully pushed me down. Not into the high seat, but into the secondary chair meant for the Beta.

"You aren't going anywhere, Seraphina," he stated.

"Are you holding me prisoner?" I asked, staring up at him.

"Elara knows nothing of pack politics or running a territory." He gestured to the girl. "You will stay here. You will train her to be a proper successor."

A laugh escaped my throat. A short, sharp sound.

Elder Thorne flinched. Elara let out a pathetic cry, burying her face deeper into Kaelen's neck.

"You want your discarded wife to tutor your new mate?" I asked.

"Keep your voice down," he warned, leaning closer.

"I am asking a simple question," I pushed back, my tone rising. "You expect me to teach her how to take my place?"

"I expect you to act like an adult," he retorted. "This is bigger than your pride."

"My pride?" I repeated. "You humiliate me in front of three hundred people, and you call it my pride?"

"It is the will of the Goddess," he stated, as if that erased everything.

"Then let the Goddess teach her how to balance the ledgers," I said.

"I am your Alpha, and I am giving you a direct order," Kaelen growled. "You know the operations better than anyone. You will shape her into a Luna."

"Find someone else."

"There is no one else," he insisted. "The pack respects you. If you endorse her, the transition will be smooth."

"You want me to hand her my crown on a silver platter," I summarized.

"I want you to do what is best for our people," he argued.

I didn't look at Elara. I fixed my gaze on the leather cord resting against his collarbone.

The wolf tooth necklace. I had carved it for him on our wedding night. He still wore it.

"And if I refuse?" I asked.

"You won't," he replied coldly. "Your loyalty to this pack has always come first. Do your duty."

"Duty," I repeated softly.

"Please, Alpha," Elara whimpered, tugging on his shirt. "I'm so cold. The stone walls are freezing."

"Come, Elara," Kaelen murmured, his tone softening instantly. "I'll take you to our room to warm up."

Our room.

The master bedroom I had spent weeks decorating, painting the walls, weaving the heavy winter blankets by hand.

"Alpha," Elara whispered as he turned. "Is she mad at me? I didn't mean to steal you."

"She knows her place," Kaelen answered, not bothering to lower his voice. "She will do as she is told."

He turned his back on me and carried her toward the private wing of the estate.

The banquet hall remained dead silent. No one touched their food. No one spoke. They all watched me, waiting for a breakdown.

Waiting for tears.

I didn't give them a single drop.

I watched Kaelen's broad shoulders disappear down the dim hallway. The heavy oak door of the master suite clicked shut at the far end.

I slid my hand into the hidden pocket of my dress skirt.

My fingers brushed against cold metal.

I pulled it out, keeping it hidden in the folds of the fabric.

The black iron key.

The only access point to the pack's underground vault. Kaelen thought I was just a dutiful wife, a glorified secretary who managed the ledgers.

He forgot who actually held the territory's lifeblood.

If he wanted to replace me, he was going to have to pay for it.

I dropped the three leather-bound ledgers onto the mahogany dining table. The heavy thud rattled the silver spoons in their porcelain bowls.

"Open the first one," I told Elara.

She sat rigidly in the high-backed chair. She wore one of Kaelen's oversized gray shirts, the collar slipping off her frail shoulder to reveal a fresh bite mark on her collarbone.

I ignored it.

"Page forty," I instructed. "We start with the winter grain distribution."

Elara stared at the towering stack of books. "I... I don't know numbers very well."

"You don't need to calculate anything today. You just need to read the headings," I said, tapping the top cover. "Alpha Kaelen ordered me to train you. Read."

"It's too much," she whimpered, shrinking away from the table.

"It is the bare minimum," I countered. "The Luna feeds three hundred wolves. If you can't read a ledger, they starve."

She reached out with a trembling hand. Her fingers fumbled with the heavy leather cover. She turned one thick page. Then a second.

Her elbow jerked sideways. It caught the edge of her mug.

Hot milk flooded across the polished wood. The white liquid pooled directly over the open book, soaking instantly into the thick parchment.

"Oh, no!" Elara shrieked, jumping out of her seat. "I'm sorry!"

I stared at the ruined page. The black ink bled into a useless gray smear. The winter reserve fund. Three months of my precise calculations, erased in a single second.

Heavy footfalls pounded down the hallway.

Kaelen burst through the dining room archway. He didn't look at the table. He didn't check the dripping milk. He crossed the room in three massive strides and hauled Elara against his chest.

"Are you burned?" he demanded, inspecting her bare arms.

"I made a mess," she sobbed, burying her face into his shirt. "I ruined her book. She's going to hurt me."

Kaelen whipped his head toward me. His jaw locked tight.

"What is wrong with you, Seraphina?" he barked.

"She spilled her drink on the territory's financial records," I answered, keeping my tone perfectly flat.

"She is an Omega who spent her life surviving in the wild!" he yelled. "You slam complex financial data in front of an uneducated girl on her first morning here, just to make her feel stupid?"

"You told me to train her to take my place," I reminded him. "Lunas manage the treasury. If she cannot handle paper, she cannot handle the pack."

"I didn't mean to!" Elara cried, clutching his waist. "She just slammed them down. She looked so angry, Alpha. I told you she wouldn't accept me."

"Hate requires effort," I stated. "I simply expect competence."

"Competence?" Kaelen repeated, his eyes blazing. "She lived in the feral lands for three years. She survived on scraps. You sit in a heated manor and judge her for not knowing high-society mathematics?"

"I judge her for knocking over a cup," I replied. "Gravity works the same in the feral lands, does it not?"

"You did this to humiliate her," Kaelen accused.

"I gave her a book."

"You set a trap!" he roared, his voice shaking the glass chandelier above us.

He took a half-step backward, tucking Elara securely behind his broad shoulder. He shielded her from me. As if I were the threat. As if I were the monster in his home.

That tiny movement snapped a vital wire inside my head.

The agonizing, tearing pain of our broken mate bond vanished. The bleeding wound in my chest hollowed out. In its place, a freezing, morbid clarity settled over my mind.

I leaned over the table. I pinched the corner of the soaked parchment and tore it violently from the binding.

A loud rip echoed in the dining room. White milk and gray ink dripped onto the floorboards, splashing against the toes of my shoes.

"What are you doing?" Kaelen warned, his eyes narrowing.

I didn't answer. I walked past them to the roaring fireplace. I tossed the ruined ledger page directly into the flames.

The fire flared up instantly. Orange light danced across my face, baking my skin. I watched the paper curl, turn black, and turn to ash.

It wasn't just the winter budget burning in the hearth. It was the last, pathetic shred of hope I had harbored for this marriage. The illusion that Kaelen might realize his mistake was gone. Reduced to cinders.

Kaelen scoffed. "A tantrum doesn't suit you, Seraphina."

He stepped closer to me.

His scent washed over my face.

Pine and snow. It used to ground me. It used to mean safety. But today, a sickeningly sweet floral stench coated it—Elara's pheromones, rubbed deep into his clothes, his skin, his very pores. The smell of their night together clung to him like a second skin.

My stomach violently convulsed.

I clamped a hand over my mouth. A harsh, dry heave wracked my chest, forcing me to bend forward.

"Seraphina?" Kaelen’s expression shifted. His brows pulled together in sudden confusion. He reached a hand out. "Are you ill?"

I swatted his hand away before he could make contact.

"Don't touch me," I choked out.

I swallowed hard, forcing the bile back down my throat. I refused to vomit in front of them. I refused to give them another ounce of my dignity.

"Class is dismissed," I rasped.

I turned my back on my husband and his terrified new mate, marching straight out the side door.

The biting morning frost hit my face. I didn't grab a coat. I didn't stop moving until the stone manor disappeared behind the thick tree line.

The dead woods bordered the northern edge of the territory. Black, leafless branches clawed at the gray sky, offering no shelter from the biting wind. The snow crunched loudly beneath my feet.

I stopped next to a rotting oak tree.

I reached into the pocket of my slacks and pulled out a small, tightly rolled parchment. I flattened it against the rough bark.

A crimson crescent moon totem glared back at me.

It was an old symbol. A forbidden one.

I drew a silver hunting knife from my belt. I pressed the sharp edge to my left palm and sliced a clean line across the flesh.

Hot blood welled to the surface, bright and stark against the freezing air. I held my hand over the parchment, letting three heavy red drops hit the exact center of the crescent moon.

The blood soaked into the symbol, turning the faded crimson into a brilliant, wet ruby red.

A rustling sound near my boots caught my attention.

At the base of the oak lay a crow. Its neck was snapped at a brutal angle, its black feathers stiff with morning frost.

I knelt in the snow, ignoring the sharp cold seeping through my pants. I folded the blood-stained parchment into a tiny, tight square.

I pried open the dead bird's frozen beak. The beak cracked slightly under the pressure. I shoved the paper deep down its throat, past its stiff tongue.

"Find him," I whispered to the empty woods.

"Take another sack," Elara announced, her voice echoing off the stone walls of the central storehouse. "No one in Alpha Kaelen’s pack will go hungry tonight."

A cheer erupted from the gathering of lower-class wolves.

I stood in the shadows of the arched doorway, my pen scratching rapidly across the pages of my pocket notebook.

"Luna," Torin, the head vault guard, whispered beside me. "She is emptying the third silo."

"I can count, Torin," I replied, noting the missing tonnage.

"Should I lock the gates?" he asked, his hand dropping to the iron ring of keys at his belt. "We need this grain to survive February."

"Leave the gates open."

"But Luna—"

"I am not the Luna anymore," I corrected. "She is."

Torin stared at me, his jaw tightening. "She gave away three months of reserves in an hour."

"Then note the shortage in the official log," I instructed, snapping the small leather book shut. "And make sure you spell her name correctly."

Across the courtyard, Elara spotted me. She dropped a burlap sack into a grateful elder’s arms and jogged over, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Seraphina!" she called out, stopping a few feet away. "Did you see? I’m doing what you asked. I’m managing the people."

"You are handing out winter rations in November," I stated.

"They were cold," she argued, crossing her arms. "Alpha Kaelen said a true leader shows compassion. I’m showing them they matter."

"You definitely showed them something," I agreed.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you mad because they like me more than you?"

A sharp laugh escaped my throat. Torin flinched. Elara stepped back, her bravado faltering.

"I am thrilled for you, Elara," I told her. "You are doing an exceptional job. Keep distributing."

"I will," she shot back, lifting her chin. "I’ll feed the whole lower sector."

"Make sure you do."

I turned my back on the empty silos and walked away. Let her give it all away. Let Kaelen wake up to a starving territory. I was done fixing his mistakes.

The transition from afternoon to midnight brought a freezing rain that turned the northern woods into a black, slick nightmare.

I stood at the edge of the Blackwater River. The rushing current roared over jagged rocks, marking the absolute boundary of our lands.

Across the churning water lay the forbidden zone. The territory of Silas. The mateless Lycan King.

I pulled a heavy iron tube from the inside pocket of my wool coat. Inside rested the master defense blueprints for Kaelen’s entire territory. Every patrol route. Every blind spot. Five years of my strategic planning, rolled into a single parchment.

"Traitor," a voice hissed in my mind.

It wasn't Kaelen. It was the mate bond.

A violent spasm ripped through my chest. The mystical tether recognized my treason. It punished me instantly, squeezing my heart until my vision went white.

I collapsed.

My knees slammed into the freezing mud. Cold sweat instantly soaked through my shirt, plastering the fabric to my spine. I dug my fingers into the wet earth, fighting the overwhelming urge to vomit.

"Submit," the bond demanded, sending a fresh wave of agony down my arms. "Return to your Alpha."

"Never," I gasped out loud.

My hands shook violently. I forced my numb fingers to unscrew the iron cap. I checked the wax seal on the blueprints one last time.

Perfectly intact.

I shoved the parchment back inside and twisted the cap tight.

The bond flared again, a searing white-hot pain behind my eyes. It demanded loyalty. It demanded I protect my husband’s borders.

I dragged myself forward through the muck. The freezing water lapped at my boots.

"Take it," I whispered to the dark river.

I thrust my arm forward and dropped the iron tube into the rushing current.

It sank instantly, swallowed by the black water, destined for the Lycan King’s shores.

The moment the metal disappeared beneath the surface, the agonizing pressure in my chest vanished. The bond’s punishment broke.

A rush of icy, clear air filled my lungs. I inhaled deeply, the most flawless breath I had taken in days. I didn't feel guilt. I didn't feel fear.

A pure, unadulterated urge to destroy everything Kaelen loved washed over me. I smiled, letting a dark chuckle slip past my lips while kneeling in the freezing mud.

"You find treason amusing?" a deep, gravelly voice asked.

The sound didn't come from across the river. It came from directly above me.

I froze.

A pair of massive black military boots stepped into my line of sight.

The air around me instantly turned to ice. A suffocating aura of pure dominance slammed down on my shoulders, pinning me to the mud. The scent of crushed pine needles and raw gunpowder flooded my senses, so intense it burned the back of my throat.

This wasn't an Alpha.

This was a monster.

Before I could scramble backward, a large hand clad in black leather clamped around my jaw.

The grip was unyielding. The leather creaked as thick fingers dug into my cheeks, forcing my head up.

I stared into eyes the color of liquid mercury.

"Well?" the Lycan King demanded, his thumb tracing the corner of my mouth. "Are you going to answer me, little wolf?"