The ceremonial Pack Run was supposed to be my moment. As Max's future Luna, I should have been running at his side, leading the Blood River Pack through the forest paths. Instead, I found myself constantly sidelined, watching as Sasha effortlessly maneuvered herself between Max and me.

"Keep up, Tessa," Max called over his shoulder, his powerful black wolf form accelerating ahead. I pushed myself harder, my grey wolf form struggling to match his pace.

Just as I closed the distance, Sasha darted forward, her sleek brown form cutting me off. She nudged against Max's flank, and he responded instantly, nuzzling her neck.

"This is the path I used to patrol when we were pups," Max said through the mind-link, his voice warm with nostalgia. "Remember, Sasha?"

"Of course I do," she replied, her mental voice honey-sweet. "You always took the eastern ridge first, then circled back through the hollow oak."

I froze mid-stride. That was my memory—Max had shown me that path during my first shift, when he'd secretly guarded my perimeter. How did Sasha know?

"The howl you taught me," Max continued, "the one that echoes across three valleys."

He lifted his muzzle and released a haunting call that sent shivers down my spine. It was the same howl he'd used to signal me during our private meetings.

Sasha answered with a perfect harmonizing howl, as if they'd practiced together for years.

I trailed behind them, my paws kicking up dust as they raced ahead. Every movement, every call between them felt choreographed—a dance they'd perfected without me.

---

"The Moon Stone has blessed countless Alphas and Lunas," Max explained as we approached the sacred clearing later that evening. "Tonight, it will bless us too."

The massive white stone gleamed in the twilight, its surface etched with ancient pack symbols. Max had brought me here for a private ritual before tomorrow's ceremony—a gesture that should have warmed my heart.

"I want to recreate something special," he said, leading me toward a small grove of wildflowers. "When I first realized you were important to me."

He pointed to a cluster of bright yellow blooms—sunflowers. I hated sunflowers. They reminded me of funeral homes and cheap roadside stands.

"They're beautiful," I lied, forcing a smile.

"They remind me of you," Max said, though his eyes darted toward the tree line where Sasha stood partially hidden. She must have followed us.

As we walked back toward the Moon Stone, my foot caught on an exposed root. I stumbled forward, twisting my ankle against a sharp rock. Pain shot up my leg.

"Max," I gasped, reaching for him.

Before I could say more, a soft whimper floated from the trees. Sasha stepped into view, rubbing her arm where a small scratch had appeared.

"Max, I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I just wanted to see the ritual."

Max immediately dropped my hand and rushed to her side. "Don't apologize, my fragile flower," he murmured, examining the barely visible mark. "Are you hurt? Let me see."

I sat in the dirt, my ankle throbbing, watching as he cradled her wrist and blew gently on the scratch.

---

The Pack House bustled with activity as servants prepared for tomorrow's ceremony. No one noticed me slip into my room, locking the door behind me.

I placed my Luna pendant—a silver crescent moon embedded with moonstones—on my pillow. Beside it, I laid the note I'd written earlier: "I am not the wolf you need. Be with the one you chose."

My hands trembled as I uncorked the small vial of Forest Mist. The scent-masking potion smelled of burnt herbs and something acrid—wolfsbane, perhaps.

"To new beginnings," I whispered, tipping the vial against my lips.

The liquid burned like fire down my throat, coating my insides with a bitter film that would neutralize my scent. I coughed, tears streaming down my face.

When the worst of the burning subsided, I shouldered my small bag and crept down the service stairs at the back of the Pack House.

The northern border was miles away, but I had to try. Every step stretched the mate bond thinner, like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point.

I shifted into my wolf form—sleek and grey and unremarkable. The perfect escape vehicle.

As I sprinted toward the border, the bond between Max and me pulled painfully in my chest. But with each yard of distance I put between us, a strange lightness began to replace the pain.

Freedom tasted bittersweet on my tongue as I ran into the gathering darkness, leaving behind everything I'd ever known.

The morning light filtered through the curtains of my small room at the edge of the Blood River territory. I'd been gone for hours, but I knew Max would only just be waking up. Discovering I'd left.

I imagined him bursting into my room, his powerful frame filling the doorway, eyes wild with confusion. He'd see the empty bed, the open window. Then he'd spot the note I'd left on my pillow.

*Max, I can't be your Luna. Please don't look for me.*

Short. Sweet. Devastating.

---

"Alpha!" The Beta's voice echoed down the hallway outside Max's quarters. "You need to see this!"

I could picture Max's face—the initial confusion giving way to anger as he read my words. His jaw would tighten, that muscle in his cheek twitching the way it always did when he was barely containing his rage.

"Find her," he'd snarl, his Alpha tone vibrating through the walls. "Now!"

But then—then would come the real revelation.

The door to his quarters burst open with such force that it slammed against the wall. The Head Healer stood there, his face ashen, hands trembling.

"Alpha," he gasped, clutching a scroll identical to the one I'd received yesterday. "There's been a terrible mistake."

Max would turn, his eyes flashing dangerously. "What mistake?"

"The blood samples—" The healer swallowed hard. "They were mislabeled. I mixed up the Meyer sisters' tests."

The silence that followed would be deafening.

"What are you saying?" Max's voice would be deadly quiet.

"I'm saying that Tessa doesn't have Wolfsbane Rot." The healer's voice cracked. "Sasha does."

The realization would hit Max like a physical blow. I could almost see him stagger back, his hand gripping the edge of his desk for support.

"No," he'd whisper. "No, that can't be right."

"I retested both samples three times," the healer would continue, his voice heavy with guilt. "Tessa's wolf is perfectly healthy. But Sasha—" He'd shake his head. "She's been dying for years."

Max would remember all the times he'd dismissed me as strong, independent—not needing his protection. While he'd been coddling Sasha, treating her like delicate glass because he thought she was healthy.

And now I was gone.

---

"TESSA!"

Max's howl tore through the forest as he raced through the trees, his massive black wolf form moving with desperate speed. His paws bled from running on sharp rocks, but he didn't feel the pain.

Behind him, Marcus, his Beta, tried to keep pace.

"Alpha, please! We need a strategy! She's masked her scent—we can't just run blindly!"

But Max wasn't listening. His mind was fracturing under the weight of his mistake. The bond between us stretched thinner with every passing minute.

"Tessa!" His howl echoed across three valleys, the same howl he'd taught me during my first shift. "Come back!"

I imagined his powerful legs carrying him deeper into the forest, following a scent trail that was already fading. The Forest Mist potion would be working its magic, neutralizing my scent.

He'd run until his paws were raw, until his lungs burned with each breath. But the bond between us would go silent as I crossed into neutral territory where magic was dampened.

---

The cold bit through my thin clothes as I stumbled through the transition zone near the Northern Glaciers. My ankle throbbed from yesterday's injury, and exhaustion weighed down my limbs.

I'd been running for nearly twenty-four hours straight. The scent-masking potion had taken its toll on my system, leaving me dizzy and disoriented.

Just a little further, I told myself. Just make it to the Glaciers.

A low growl froze me in place.

Three pairs of yellow eyes watched me from the shadows between the trees. Rogues—wolves without packs, without honor.

"Well, well," the largest one said, stepping into the dim light. "What do we have here? A little Omega wandering all alone?"

I backed away slowly, my hand moving to the knife at my belt. "I'm just passing through."

"Nothing passes through our territory without paying a price," another rogue snarled.

They circled me, their movements practiced and predatory. I knew I couldn't outrun them, not in my weakened state.

When the first one lunged, I dodged sideways, using agility over strength. My knife flashed in the moonlight, catching one rogue across the shoulder.

"Feisty little thing," the third rogue growled, circling wider.

I fought with everything I had—kicking, slashing, dodging. But I was outnumbered. A heavy weight slammed into my back, sending me sprawling onto the frozen ground.

"Look at her," one of them sneered, standing over me. "Not so tough now."

The largest rogue raised his clawed hand for what would be a killing blow.

Suddenly, howls erupted from the trees. Five massive wolves burst into the clearing, their fur white as snow.

"Frost Fang Patrol!" one shouted through the mind-link. "Stand down!"

The rogues scattered like leaves in the wind.

A smaller wolf with kind eyes moved toward me cautiously. "Can you hear me?" he asked through the link.

I tried to respond, but darkness was closing in. The last thing I felt was a gentle touch as a wolf with warm brown eyes nudged my hand.

"Luna?" he whispered.

Then everything went black.

Light filtered through my eyelids, a gentle warmth coaxing me back to consciousness. My head throbbed with each heartbeat, and my mouth felt dry as desert sand. I tried to lift my hand to touch my temple, but even that small movement sent pain shooting down my arm.

"Easy there," a deep, gentle voice said from somewhere to my left. "You took quite a knock."

I forced my eyes open, blinking against the brightness of the room. Wooden beams crossed a sloped ceiling above me, and a fire crackled in a stone hearth nearby. The air smelled of pine and something herbal.

"Where..." My voice came out as a rasp.

"You're safe," the voice said. "Frost Fang territory. Northern Glaciers."

A man moved into my field of vision—tall, broad-shouldered, with warm brown eyes and a worried expression. His hair was a rich auburn, streaked with strands of gold where the firelight caught it.

"What's your name?" he asked, offering me a cup of water.

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came. No name. No past. Just... emptiness.

"I..." I struggled, my hand instinctively reaching for something that wasn't there. "I don't know."

The man's expression softened. "Memory loss. Not uncommon with head trauma."

He helped me sit up, supporting my back with pillows. Through the window beside the bed, I could see snow-covered mountains and a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.

"You were attacked by rogues at our border," he explained. "Our patrol found you just in time."

I took a sip of water, trying to piece together anything about myself. But there was only fog where memories should be.

"What should I call you?" he asked.

I looked out the window again, where the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the snow. My gaze drifted upward to the sky, where a crescent moon was already visible despite the daylight.

"Luna," I whispered, the name appearing from nowhere. "Call me Luna."

---

Weeks passed in a blur of healing and learning. Roland—for that was his name—never pushed me to remember, never showed frustration when I couldn't recall even the simplest things about myself.

"We'll start with the basics," he said one morning, leading me outside into the crisp cold air. "How to survive in the ice."

He taught me how to track animals by their scent patterns in the snow, how to build shelters from ice and branches, how to identify edible plants that survived beneath the blanket of white.

"Your body remembers even if your mind doesn't," he observed as I instinctively avoided a patch of thin ice on the lake. "That's good."

At night, we would sit by the fire in his cabin, and he would tell me stories of the Frost Fang Pack—not his stories, he emphasized, but theirs. He wanted me to feel connected, even without memories.

Sometimes, when our hands accidentally brushed as he passed me a cup of tea or adjusted a log on the fire, I felt a strange flutter in my chest. A warmth that had nothing to do with the flames.

---

"Alpha, we need to discuss the latest reports," Marcus said, standing at attention before Max's desk.

Max didn't look up from the stack of research papers he'd been pouring over for months. His once-powerful frame had grown gaunt, his eyes hollow from lack of sleep.

"Sasha's condition continues to deteriorate," Marcus continued, his voice gentle but firm. "The healers say we need to prepare for—"

"I won't hear it," Max snarled, finally looking up. His eyes flashed dangerously. "There must be something else. Something we've overlooked."

Marcus placed a folder on the desk. "These are the latest tracker reports from the Northern Glaciers."

Max grabbed the folder with trembling hands. For six months, he'd been sending search parties north, following every rumor of a lone female wolf matching Tessa's description.

"Possible sighting near Frost Fang territory," Marcus read over his shoulder. "Female wolf, approximately twenty-five years old, traveling with their Beta."

Max's heart stuttered in his chest. "It's her," he whispered. "It has to be."

---

The cabin was warm and filled with the scent of stewing meat when the door burst open without warning. I jumped, nearly dropping the ladle I'd been using to stir dinner.

A man stood in the doorway—tall, dark-haired, with eyes that seemed to burn right through me. Power radiated from him in waves that made the air feel heavy.

"Tessa," he said, his voice breaking on the name.

I blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry, you must have the wrong person. My name is Luna."

His eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously. "Tessa Meyer," he growled, taking a step forward. "Look at me."

Roland moved instantly to my side, his body tensing as he positioned himself between us.

"You need to leave," Roland said quietly.

The stranger ignored him, his gaze fixed on me. "I am your Alpha," he said, his voice deepening with command. "You will return with me now."

Something in his tone made my head pound, but I felt no recognition—only fear and confusion.

"I don't know you," I said, pressing closer to Roland.

"Tessa!" The stranger roared, his Alpha Voice vibrating through the cabin. "Remember who you are!"

But I didn't remember. And his command slid off me like water off oil, leaving me untouched.

Roland's growl rumbled through the room as he stepped fully in front of me, protecting me from my own mate.