The fifth anniversary of Sophia's death dawned cold and gray, matching the hollow space in my chest where hope once lived.

I jolted awake to the sound of my door crashing open. Jacob stood in the doorway, his massive frame silhouetted against the hallway light. Even after five years, his sudden appearances still made my heart stutter with fear.

"Get up," he snarled, stalking toward me. "Today isn't for lazy bitches."

His scent hit me—pine and whiskey, with an underlying sweetness that could only belong to Milani. My stomach twisted. He'd spent the night with her again.

I slid from the narrow bed, keeping my eyes downcast as he circled me like a predator. "Five years," he muttered, his fingers suddenly gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Five years since Sophia left us, and you still look like... this."

His lip curled in disgust. I knew what I looked like—hollow-cheeked, dark circles under my eyes, hair limp from another sleepless night. The permanent limp from Milani's attack made me wince as I stood.

"The pack expects the Luna to make an effort," he said, though we both knew I was no real Luna in his eyes. Just a placeholder. A reminder of his humiliation.

He threw a bundle of fabric at my feet—gray robes, the color of mourning. "Wear these. And nothing else."

I stared at the rough material. "Jacob, I'm still bleeding from—"

"Did I ask?" His eyes flashed gold, Alpha power radiating from him in suffocating waves. "You'll wear what I tell you to wear. You'll prepare the offerings for Sophia's memorial. And you'll do it without making eye contact with anyone of rank."

I nodded, knowing better than to argue. Five years had taught me when resistance was futile.

"Clean yourself up," he ordered, turning to leave. "You have one hour."

---

The Sacred Grounds were packed with pack members when I arrived, carrying the ceremonial offerings on a silver tray. The marble statue of Sophia gleamed in the center—her perfect face tilted toward the sky, arms outstretched in what Jacob had once described as "benevolent grace."

Milani stood beside him on the raised dais, her hand possessively wrapped around his arm. She wore white—the color of purity, of remembrance. Everything I wasn't allowed to be.

"Rose." Jacob's voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. "Come forward."

Every step sent pain shooting through my damaged hip. I kept my gaze fixed on the ground as I approached.

"Kneel," he commanded, his Alpha Tone vibrating through my bones.

My knees hit the mud before the statue. Recent rains had turned the sacred space into a quagmire, but no one seemed concerned about the Luna—former or current—kneeling in filth.

"Today marks five years since our beloved Sophia returned to the Moon Goddess," Jacob announced, his voice carrying across the grounds. "Five years since perfection left our world."

I felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on me as I knelt there, the mud seeping through the thin gray fabric.

"But even in her absence, Sophia's light continues to guide us." Jacob's voice softened as he looked at Milani. "And we are blessed that her cousin Milani has stepped forward to help us honor her memory."

Milani smiled, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Rose." Jacob's attention snapped back to me. "Clean the statue. Now."

I set down the tray and reached for the cloth. As I began to scrub the base of Sophia's statue, Jacob continued his speech.

"Look at her," he said, gesturing to me. "This is what inadequacy looks like. This is what happens when you settle for less than perfection."

My hands trembled as I scrubbed harder at the marble, trying to ignore the whispers rippling through the crowd.

---

Night had fallen by the time I gathered my courage to enter Jacob's office. The contract—our contract—was folded carefully in my pocket.

"Jacob," I said softly, closing the door behind me. "I need to speak with you."

He looked up from his desk, eyes bloodshot. The smell of whiskey hung heavy in the air.

"The five years are up," I continued, pulling out the contract. "My mother is gone. I've fulfilled my obligation."

Jacob stared at the paper as if it were a snake. "Obligation?"

"Our agreement. Luna Mother Barnes promised—"

"Luna Mother Barnes is not Alpha," he growled, rising from his chair.

He stalked toward me, and I instinctively backed away until I hit the wall. His hand shot out, gripping my throat.

"You think you can leave?" he whispered, his breath hot against my face. "After everything?"

From a shelf behind his desk, he grabbed a small urn—the one containing my mother's ashes. The one I'd been saving to scatter in her favorite meadow.

"This is what you care about, isn't it?" he asked, dangling it before me. "Your weak, pathetic mother?"

"Please," I whispered. "She's all I have left."

With a snarl, Jacob smashed the urn against the stone fireplace. The crash echoed like a gunshot as gray ash scattered across the floor.

"You have nothing," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "And you will never leave Moonstone Pack."

The next morning, I returned to Jacob's office with trembling hands. The ash of my mother's remains still clung to the expensive carpet, tiny gray specks mocking me in the early light.

I dropped to my knees, fingers sifting through the fibers. Each speck I collected felt like gathering pieces of my own soul. Five years of submission, of enduring Jacob's cruelty, and now this—the final desecration.

The door opened. Jacob entered with Beta Marcus, their voices carrying the casual indifference of men discussing pack business.

"The Northern border needs reinforcement," Marcus was saying. "The rogues have been testing our boundaries again."

I kept my head down, trying to become invisible as I worked. My damaged hip throbbed from kneeling, but I dared not shift position.

"Rose." Jacob's voice cut through the room. "Clean around the desk first. I need to use it."

I gathered what little ash I'd collected into a small cloth and crawled toward the desk, my movements slow and painful.

Marcus's eyes followed me, something like pity flickering across his face. "Alpha, perhaps the Luna needs rest. She's been working since dawn."

"She's not Luna," Jacob snapped, his boot deliberately stepping over my outstretched hand. "She's a substitute. And substitutes don't get to rest until their duties are done."

I felt Marcus's gaze on me as I carefully vacuumed ash from beneath Jacob's chair. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words.

"Alpha," Marcus tried again, "the pack is watching. If you want to maintain—"

"I don't care what the pack thinks," Jacob growled. "She needs to learn her place."

As they continued discussing pack matters over my bent back, something inside me shifted—a tectonic plate of submission finally reaching its breaking point. I would never be free as long as I remained here, no matter how much I submitted.

---

Weeks passed in a blur of routine humiliation. I rose before dawn to prepare Jacob's meals, endured his cold stares across the dining hall, and retreated to my small room at night to count the days until I could escape.

But escape plans required strength. And strength required food.

I stared at the breakfast tray I'd prepared for Jacob, my stomach churning violently. The smell of bacon made my mouth water and then immediately clench in revolt.

"No," I whispered, pressing my palm against my mouth. "Not now."

But my body betrayed me. I barely made it to the bathroom before emptying what little I'd managed to eat the night before.

Morning sickness. I'd seen it in other she-wolves.

I slid down against the cool tile wall, one hand moving instinctively to my abdomen. It couldn't be possible. Jacob had only come to my bed once—a night of grief-stricken drunkenness months ago when Milani had left him angry and unsatisfied.

Yet here I was, my body changing in ways that could only mean one thing.

A pup. Jacob's pup grew inside me.

Terror gripped me so tightly I couldn't breathe. If Jacob discovered this... if Milani found out...

I forced myself to stand on shaky legs. The pack gardens had herbs—rosemary, sage, mint—that could mask a she-wolf's scent. Dr. Elena had once mentioned their properties during a training session.

I waited until nightfall before slipping out. The garden was silent except for the rustling of leaves and the distant howl of a patrol wolf. I gathered what I needed quickly, crushing the leaves between my fingers to release their oils.

From then on, I carried them everywhere—tucked into my bra, sewn into the hem of my clothes. The sharp, medicinal scent became my constant companion.

---

"The meat is overcooked," Milani declared loudly, pushing her plate away during the pack lunch. "I expect better from our kitchen staff."

I kept my eyes on my own plate, picking at vegetables while avoiding the roasted venison that had been placed before me. The smell alone was enough to make my stomach rebel.

"You," Milani called suddenly, pointing at me. "Yes, you, Rose. Do you find the food disgusting as well?"

All eyes turned to me. I forced myself to take a small bite of meat, though every instinct screamed in protest.

"It's fine," I said quietly.

Milani's perfectly shaped eyebrow arched. She rose from her seat at the Alpha table and approached mine, leaning down until her face was inches from mine.

"Something's different about you," she whispered, inhaling deeply. "Your scent has changed."

My heart stopped. Had the herbs failed? Could she smell the pregnancy?

"You're trying to seduce him again, aren't you?" Her voice dripped venom. "After everything he's done for you?"

"I don't know what you mean," I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me.

Later, in the communal washroom, Milani cornered me as I washed dishes. Her reflection appeared in the mirror behind me, her smile sharp as a blade.

"If you're trying to catch Jacob's attention," she said softly, "I'll make sure you're exiled to the Omega quarters by nightfall."

I met her eyes in the mirror, my own reflecting a calm I didn't feel. "I'm not trying to catch anyone's attention."

"Good." She leaned closer, her expensive perfume making my stomach turn. "Because you're nothing but a placeholder, Rose. A living reminder of his humiliation. And I won't let you forget it."

The morning light filtered through the curtains as I pressed my palm against my still-flat stomach. Two months. The tiny life inside me had grown for two months without Jacob noticing. My fingers trembled as I crushed another handful of rosemary and sage, renewing the herbs sewn into my clothing.

A sharp knock interrupted my ritual.

"Rose." Jacob's voice carried through the door. "My office. Now."

I smoothed my dress, checked my scent one last time, and followed the sound of his voice.

Jacob sat behind his massive oak desk, Milani perched on the edge beside him. Her hand rested possessively on his shoulder, her crimson nails digging into his skin as she leaned down to whisper something in his ear.

"You wanted to see me, Alpha?" I kept my eyes lowered, focusing on the pattern of the carpet.

"Ah, our little substitute." Milani's voice dripped with false sweetness. "We have a special task for you."

Jacob straightened, his expression cold as winter. "I've decided to make things official with Milani. A series of Chosen Mate ceremonies will begin next month."

My heart stuttered. "Ceremonies?"

"Three of them," Milani interjected, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "To properly celebrate our union."

Jacob reached for Milani's hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles in a gesture so intimate it made my stomach clench. "You will plan them all."

"I don't understand," I whispered.

"It's simple." Jacob's lips curled into a cruel smile. "You're going to plan my courtship of Milani. Every detail. The decorations, the food, the music."

Milani leaned forward, her perfume suffocating me. "We want everything to be perfect. Just like Sophia would have wanted."

"Sophia loved white roses," Jacob said suddenly, his voice softening at her name. "For the first ceremony, we'll need an arch of them. White roses and silver ribbons."

I swallowed hard. "White roses are for funerals, not weddings."

Milani's laugh cut through the air. "Oh, Rose. Always so literal. Jacob means we should honor tradition. Sophia's memory will be part of our special day."

"Exactly," Jacob agreed, his fingers still intertwined with hers. "You'll select flowers that Sophia would have chosen for our wedding."

The irony wasn't lost on me. Five years of torment, and now I had to plan the celebration of my replacement.

---

Three weeks later, my body betrayed me.

I stood in Jacob's study, carefully arranging wine glasses on a silver tray. The evening's "pre-ceremony celebration" would begin in an hour, and I had been commanded to serve the Alpha pair personally.

"Careful with that," Milani warned as I reached for the crystal decanter. "It's from Jacob's private collection."

I nodded silently, pouring the deep red liquid into each glass. My hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from exhaustion. The pregnancy was taking more from me each day.

Jacob entered, his presence filling the room as always. "Is everything prepared?"

"Yes, Alpha," I murmured, lifting the heavy tray.

As I moved toward them, a wave of nausea hit me so suddenly I had to pause. The room tilted, and I took a deep breath.

"Rose?" Jacob's voice held an odd note I'd never heard before.

I looked up to find him staring at me, nostrils flaring slightly. His eyes had gone golden—his wolf sensing something.

"Are you feeling unwell?" he asked, taking a step toward me.

Milani moved faster than I thought possible. Her hand shot out, knocking against my elbow. The tray tilted, wine splashing across my arm and dripping onto the floor.

"How clumsy!" she exclaimed, her voice high with manufactured concern. "Look what you've done!"

The hot liquid scalded my skin, but I barely noticed. Jacob was still watching me with that strange expression.

"Forgive me," I whispered, dropping to my knees to clean the spill.

"Perhaps you should see Dr. Elena," Jacob suggested, his eyes never leaving my face. "You look... different."

Milani's hand closed around his arm. "Don't be ridiculous. She's just tired from all the preparations."

As they argued above me, I caught a glimpse of Milani's face—the calculation in her eyes, the tight set of her jaw. She knew. Somehow, she knew.

---

"Dr. Elena," Milani's voice echoed through the pack hospital corridor. "I need to speak with you immediately."

I pressed myself against the wall, heart pounding. I'd come for my regular check-up—one I'd been putting off for weeks.

The doctor emerged from her office, her professional smile faltering when she saw Milani. "Miss Green. How can I help you?"

"I need information about one of your patients," Milani said, stepping closer. "Rose Powell. What is her condition?"

Dr. Elena's expression remained neutral. "Patient confidentiality prevents me from discussing anyone's medical status."

"Even if it affects the Alpha's interests?" Milani's voice hardened.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot disclose—"

"Is she pregnant?" Milani interrupted.

The silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Dr. Elena's hesitation lasted only a moment, but it was enough.

Milani's eyes narrowed. "I see."

As she turned to leave, her gaze fell on me hiding in the shadows. Her lips curved into a smile that chilled me to the bone.

"Rose," she said softly. "How nice of you to join us."

In that moment, I knew my time was running out.