The cool night air did nothing to calm the fire in my veins as Charles dragged me outside the pack hall. My mind kept replaying Pierce's words, the images on his phone—Winter, bound and bloodied.

"Let go of me!" I wrenched my arm free, turning to face my mate. "Did you hear what he said? He admitted to killing Winter!"

Charles's face remained impassive in the moonlight. "He was drunk, Oakleigh. Making idle boasts."

"I saw the photos, Charles." My voice cracked. "Winter—my sister—tied up and bleeding. He showed them off like trophies!"

"Photos can be faked." Charles ran a hand through his hair, his tone maddeningly calm. "You know how easy it is with technology these days."

I stared at him, disbelief washing over me. "You can't possibly believe that."

"Listen to me." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Pierce is Sloane's son. Sloane has been my most trusted advisor for years. Her family has connections with three other packs."

The implication hit me like a physical blow. "So?"

"So pack politics require careful handling." His eyes flickered with something I'd never seen before—calculation. "If I arrest Pierce based on drunk talk and questionable photos, I risk destabilizing crucial alliances."

"He murdered my sister!" The words tore from my throat.

"If—and that's a big if—he did anything wrong, we need to handle this delicately." Charles placed his hands on my shoulders. "For the good of the pack."

My wolf snarled inside me. "I'm taking this to the Lycan Council."

Charles's expression hardened. His eyes flashed with Alpha dominance as he grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "No, you're not. You're going to let this go."

The command in his voice pressed against my chest, but something else pressed back—my rage, my grief, my certainty.

"You knew," I whispered, the horrible truth dawning on me. "You've known all along."

His silence was confirmation enough.

---

Morning light filtered through the curtains of my quarters when the door opened without a knock. Sloane Richardson glided in, carrying a tray with tea and pastries.

"Luna Oakleigh," she greeted with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I thought you might need some comfort."

I straightened against the pillows, my wolf instantly alert. "I'm not hungry."

"Tea then." She poured a steaming cup, adding honey with practiced precision. "Charles told me about your... concerns last night."

"Did he tell you about the photos? The confession?"

Sloane's smile tightened. "Pierce was being foolish. Boys will be boys."

"Boys don't torture and murder innocent wolves."

She set the cup down and sat across from me, smoothing her skirt. "Charles has moved past his obligation to his fated mate."

The words hit like ice water. "What?"

"He's chosen me." Her voice softened to false sympathy. "And soon, we'll have the heir this pack deserves."

My hands trembled as I reached for the tea. "That's not possible. We're mated."

"A rejection ceremony would change that." Sloane leaned forward. "In fact, I've convinced Charles that Pierce should offer you one—to bring closure to this unfortunate incident."

"Closure?" I echoed, disgust rising in my throat.

"It would be best for everyone." Her eyes hardened. "Accept it gracefully."

Something snapped inside me. I hurled the tea at her feet, the cup shattering against the floor.

"Gracefully?" I spat. "Like Winter did when your son was torturing her?"

Sloane's sweet facade vanished. She leaned forward, voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "She died screaming."

My breath caught.

"And you'll suffer far worse if you continue making trouble." Her hand moved to her stomach in a protective gesture. "I'm carrying Charles's heir. He will always choose his chosen mate and future child over a barren Luna like you."

---

The summons came that evening—Charles wanted to see me in his office. I knew what awaited me.

When I entered, they were all there: Charles behind his desk, Sloane standing beside him, and Pierce lounging in a chair with a smirk that made my skin crawl.

"Oakleigh." Charles's voice was formal, distant. "Pierce has something to say to you."

Pierce stood, straightening his jacket with theatrical precision. "I, Pierce Richardson, son of the most loyal pack advisor, reject you, Oakleigh Wright, weakling Luna who couldn't even protect her own sister, as someone worthy of my apology or acknowledgment."

He paused, clearly expecting me to respond with the traditional acceptance.

Instead, something primal surged through me. Before anyone could react, I lunged forward and grabbed Pierce by the throat, lifting him until his feet barely touched the ground.

My eyes glowed golden as my wolf took control. "I will never accept your rejection," I growled. "It would free you too easily."

Shock registered on every face—especially when my grip tightened.

"Release him!" Charles roared, his Alpha command crashing over me like a wave.

My body trembled with resistance as I fought against his order. For a moment—just a moment—I held firm.

Then my muscles gave way, and Pierce dropped to the floor, gasping.

Charles stared at me with newfound fear in his eyes.

What had just happened? Where had that strength come from?

Two weeks passed in a blur of systematic humiliation. What once was my life as Luna now felt like a distant dream as Charles and Sloane methodically stripped away everything that defined my position.

The pack gathering was called suddenly. I stood before them, still wearing my Luna pendant—the last symbol of my status.

"Due to her unstable mental state following her sister's tragic accident," Charles announced, his voice carrying across the silent hall, "Oakleigh is no longer fit to serve as Luna."

His eyes met mine briefly before sliding away. "The council has agreed that she requires time to... recover."

Sloane stepped forward, her smile sweet as poison. "We've arranged more appropriate accommodations for her in the servant's wing."

The pendant was removed from my neck with cold efficiency. The metal felt warm from my skin as it was placed in Sloane's waiting palm.

"Your belongings have already been moved," she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. "Your new duties begin tomorrow."

---

The servant's quarters were little more than a closet with a narrow bed. My few remaining possessions looked lost in the sparse space. The window overlooked the garbage bins rather than the forest view I'd grown accustomed to.

My new uniform—plain gray instead of the Luna's ceremonial colors—scratched against my skin as I prepared for my first dinner service.

"You'll serve table three," the head servant instructed, avoiding my eyes. "Don't drop anything."

The dining hall fell silent as I entered with trays of food. Pack members who once greeted me with respect now averted their gazes or watched with barely concealed satisfaction.

I approached table three where Sloane sat with Pierce, her hand resting possessively on her stomach.

"Serve us," she commanded, gesturing to the empty space beside her. "I want the soup first."

My hands trembled slightly as I poured the steaming liquid into her bowl. The heat rising from it made my eyes water.

"Careful," Pierce murmured, his voice dripping with false concern. "Wouldn't want any accidents."

I moved to serve the next course, but Sloane shifted suddenly, knocking my arm. The bowl tipped, sending scalding soup cascading over my hands and face.

Pain seared across my skin as I gasped, dropping the serving tray.

"Oh dear," Sloane gasped with theatrical concern. "How clumsy!"

The burning sensation spread across my cheeks and down my throat. Blisters were already forming on my palms.

"Clean it up," Charles ordered from across the room, his Alpha tone pressing down on me like a physical weight. "And apologize for your carelessness."

My wolf howled inside me, but the Alpha command left me no choice. I fell to my knees, picking up broken ceramic with burned fingers while tears streamed down my face.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words tasting like ash.

The pack watched in silence.

---

The pack house was empty during the afternoon hunts—a perfect opportunity.

I slipped into Pierce's quarters, heart hammering against my ribs. His room was meticulously organized, nothing like the chaotic space of a typical young wolf.

"You're hiding something," I muttered, searching through drawers and closets.

The bed. Something about the bed seemed off.

I lifted the mattress and found it—a laptop tucked into a hidden compartment.

My fingers trembled as I opened it. No password protection—arrogance or confidence?

Folder after folder appeared on screen. Each labeled with a name and date.

"Winter," I whispered, clicking on the folder.

Images filled the screen—hundreds of them. Winter bound and bleeding. Winter pleading. Winter unconscious.

But there were others. So many others.

I scrolled through names I didn't recognize—fifteen different folders, each containing photos and videos documenting torture and murder.

One folder was labeled "Methods." Inside were detailed notes on how each wolf died, what techniques were most effective, which caused the most pain.

My stomach churned as I copied everything to a flash drive I'd hidden in my shoe.

"I'm going to destroy you," I promised the empty room.

The door clicked open behind me.

"Find what you're looking for?" Pierce's voice sliced through the silence.

I whirled around, clutching the flash drive.

His Beta strength hit me like a physical blow as he slammed me against the wall.

"Beta strength doesn't compare to Alpha power," I gasped.

"But it's enough for this." He ripped the flash drive from my fingers. "You've seen too much."

His eyes gleamed with something worse than anger—excitement.

"Charles!" he shouted. "I need you in here!"

---

"Breaking into private quarters?" Charles didn't even look at me as Pierce presented his case. "Attempting to steal personal property?"

The flash drive sat on his desk between us.

"It's evidence," I pleaded. "Look at what's on it!"

Charles glanced at the laptop screen, his expression unchanging.

"Artistic photography," he declared dismissively. "Nothing more."

"Artistic?" I echoed in disbelief. "Winter is dead!"

"And you're violating pack law." His Alpha tone pressed down on me again. "Three days in the basement cells. No food, no water, no visitors."

Pierce's smile widened as the guards dragged me away.

"Perfect," he whispered just loud enough for me to hear. "Now I have time to prepare something special for you."