I stared at my reflection in the mirror, fingers trembling slightly as I dabbed concealer over the purplish bruise blooming across my cheekbone. The final underground fight had been the worst one yet. The Rogue I'd faced had fought dirty—claws to the face when the rules clearly stated no striking above the neck. But I'd won. And the money would cover the Alpha Coronation feast tonight.

"Almost there," I whispered to myself, applying another layer of heavy foundation. "Just a few more hours."

My wolf, Luna, stirred restlessly within me. *We shouldn't have to hide our scars. They're badges of honor.*

"Quiet," I muttered. "You know how important tonight is."

Mason was being crowned Alpha of the Silverfang Pack tonight. After years of sacrifice—my blood, my dignity, my safety—we were finally going to reap the rewards. He'd promised to mark me as his Luna during the ceremony. Tonight, everything would change.

I smoothed down the simple black dress I'd chosen, the most formal thing I owned. It wasn't the elaborate gown a Luna should wear, but Mason had made it clear I needed to "stay in the background" until the marking ceremony. Something about not wanting to "confuse the pack" before everything was official.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I quickly capped the concealer and opened it to find Mason's Beta, Derek, looking uncomfortable.

"The Alpha requests your presence," he said, not quite meeting my eyes.

I nodded, following him through the pack house corridors. Wolves nodded respectfully as we passed, though I noticed how their eyes slid away from mine. They still didn't know I was Mason's mate. To them, I was just Harold Foster's daughter—the girl with the weak wolf who somehow managed pack finances.

Mason stood in his ceremonial quarters, surrounded by members of the council. They fell silent as I entered, their expressions ranging from curiosity to disdain.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the sudden tension in the room.

Mason didn't turn immediately. He was adjusting his ceremonial robes—blood-red silk embroidered with silver thread. The Alpha's colors.

"Yes," he finally said, still not looking at me. "I wanted to remind you about tonight."

His voice sounded strange—booming and artificial. I knew why. The steroids I'd procured for him were working overtime today, enhancing his Beta-level wolf into something more commanding. Something worthy of an Alpha.

"The ceremony starts at moonrise," he continued, adjusting his shoulders. "Stay in the back. Don't draw attention to yourself."

One of the council members—Marcus Dean, Aura's father—cleared his throat. "And the... arrangement we discussed?"

Mason nodded. "Jocelyn understands her place."

I froze. What arrangement? What was he talking about?

"Of course," I said carefully, watching Mason's face for any hint of what was happening.

Finally, he turned to look at me, but his eyes didn't meet mine. "Wear something... appropriate. And stay out of sight until I call for you."

---

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as pack members gathered for the ceremony. I stood at the back, just as instructed, watching Mason take center stage. He looked powerful in his Alpha robes, every inch the leader the Silverfang Pack needed.

"Today marks a new era for our pack!" Mason's voice rang out, enhanced by the steroids I'd paid for with my blood money. "I, Mason Elliott, accept the mantle of Alpha!"

The pack howled their approval, and I felt a surge of pride despite my growing unease. This was our moment—years of struggle culminating in this one night.

After the formal acceptance, Mason raised his hand for silence. "As Alpha, I have made a decision that will shape the future of our pack."

My heart pounded. This was it—he was going to announce me as his Luna.

"I have formed a strategic alliance that will save our pack from financial ruin," Mason continued, his voice echoing through the hall.

Confusion washed over me. Strategic alliance?

The main doors swung open, and a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Aura Dean glided in, her perfect figure draped in Luna's ceremonial silk robes—silver-white, the color of purity and power.

"What is she doing?" I whispered, but no one answered.

Aura's expensive foreign perfume reached me even from across the room as she took her place beside Mason. Her smile was radiant as she gazed adoringly at him.

"Our pack needs strength," Mason announced. "And the alliance with the Dean Pack will bring us that strength."

I stepped forward, unable to believe what was happening. "Mason?"

He didn't even look at me.

Aura's smile widened as she snapped her fingers. The lights dimmed, and a projector whirred to life behind them.

"What is this?" someone asked.

The holographic display flickered, then clarified into crystal-clear footage of me—fighting in the underground pits, blood streaming from my nose as I knocked out a Rogue twice my size.

Gasps echoed through the hall. Then the image changed: me handing stacks of cash to shadowy figures in alleyways.

"This," Aura announced, her voice dripping with disgust, "is the woman your Alpha has been protecting. A traitorous rogue-lover. A filthy whore who sold herself for money."

The pack's horrified stares burned into me as Aura continued her vicious attack, each word driving deeper than any claw ever could.

"And now," she finished triumphantly, "she wants to be your Luna."

Mason stood beside Aura, his expression solemn as he nodded in agreement with her lies.

The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, a buzz of shock and disgust that pressed against my skin like physical blows. I stood frozen, my fingers digging into my palms as Mason's gaze finally met mine—not with apology, but with cold calculation.

"Silence!" Mason's voice boomed across the Great Hall, enhanced by the steroids I'd procured for him. The pack members flinched, their voices dying instantly under the artificial weight of his command.

I watched as he stepped forward, one hand resting possessively on Aura's lower back. Her smile was triumphant, her perfectly manicured nails curling into his ceremonial robes.

"My loyal pack," Mason began, his voice carrying that unnatural resonance that made my wolf whimper. "I understand your shock. The footage you've seen tonight reveals a truth that, until now, I have protected you from."

My throat tightened. Protected them? He'd protected himself—his fragile ego, his political ambitions.

"Jocelyn Foster has served this pack in... unconventional ways," he continued, his tone dripping with false benevolence. "But her methods are beneath the dignity of a Luna."

The pack shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between me and the royal couple on the dais. I could smell their judgment—their revulsion.

"However," Mason's voice softened, "I am not a cruel Alpha. I recognize that even one such as Jocelyn has her... purposes."

Aura's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Indeed," she purred. "Every pack has its necessities."

Mason nodded, then turned to address the crowd again. "Therefore, I propose an arrangement that will benefit us all. Aura Dean will be our Royal Luna—the face of our pack, the mother of our future heirs."

The pack erupted in approving howls. Aura's father, Marcus Dean, stood proudly at the front, his chest puffed out in satisfaction.

"As for Jocelyn," Mason continued once the noise died down, "she will serve as Pack Mistress."

The term hit me like a physical blow. Pack Mistress—a euphemism for a breeding vessel, a wolf kept for her fertility but denied any status or respect.

"She will reside in the servant's quarters and attend to the Alpha's... personal needs," Mason explained, his clinical tone stripping away the last shreds of my dignity. "This arrangement allows us to maintain our alliance with the Dean Pack while acknowledging Jocelyn's service."

I couldn't breathe. The room spun around me as whispers erupted throughout the hall.

"No," I whispered, backing toward the exit. "No, this isn't what we agreed."

Luna snarled within me, her rage burning through my veins. *Run! We need to run!*

I turned and pushed through the crowd, ignoring the stares and whispers. The heavy wooden doors of the Great Hall loomed ahead—freedom, escape from this nightmare.

I was almost there when a familiar scent hit me—cheap whiskey and desperation.

"Jocelyn!" My father's voice cracked as he lunged from the shadows, tackling me to the ground just inches from the exit.

"Let me go!" I screamed, struggling against his weight.

Harold Foster pinned me down, his breath hot against my face. "You ungrateful little bitch," he hissed, his eyes wild with fear. "After everything I've sacrificed for you!"

"You're ruining everything!" he shouted, dragging me back toward the dais as I fought against his grip. "Do you know what happens to us if you leave? The creditors—the Rogues—they'll kill us!"

The pack watched in stunned silence as my father hauled me across the floor, my dress tearing, my dignity in tatters.

"Please," I begged, looking up at Mason. "Don't do this."

Mason descended from the dais, his Alpha robes sweeping across the floor. He towered over me, his eyes cold.

"Submit," he commanded, his enhanced Alpha tone pressing down on me like a physical weight.

I fought against it, muscles straining, blood trickling from my nose as I resisted the unnatural command.

"I said SUBMIT!" Mason roared, his Alpha tone crushing me down.

My knees hit the floor hard as I collapsed before Aura. She extended one foot, the hem of her Luna robes brushing against my face.

"Kiss it," Mason ordered, his voice soft but merciless. "Show your respect for your Luna."

"I can't," I gasped, blood dripping onto the marble floor as I fought against his command.

"You can," he insisted. "And you will."

Aura's smile widened as she watched me struggle, my body trembling with the effort to resist the Alpha command.

Slowly, agonizingly, my head bowed lower. The scent of her expensive perfume filled my nostrils as my lips approached the hem of her robe.

The pack watched in silence as I was forced to my knees, humiliated before them all.

The guards dragged me down the corridor, their claws digging into my arms as I struggled against their grip. My torn dress hung limply from my shoulders, the fabric stained with blood from my nose and mouth. The pack's jeers still rang in my ears as they shoved me through a doorway and locked the door behind me.

I sank to the floor of the guest room, my body trembling with shock and humiliation. The elegant furnishings seemed to mock my disheveled state—the pristine white bedding, the polished mahogany dresser, the fresh flowers in a crystal vase. This room was meant for honored guests, not for a woman who'd just been publicly reduced to a breeding vessel.

"Jocelyn."

Mason's voice came from the other side of the door. The guards' footsteps retreated as he dismissed them with a quiet command.

He entered alone, closing the door softly behind him. Without the audience of the pack, his posture changed—shoulders slightly hunched, the artificial Alpha presence dimming like a light being turned down.

"This is necessary," he said, his voice stripped of the steroid-enhanced resonance. "You know that."

I laughed bitterly, wiping blood from my lip. "Necessary? You promised to make me your Luna tonight."

"And I will... in private." He crouched before me, reaching for my hand. I flinched away. "Listen to me. Your wolf is too weak to protect the pack. The council would never accept you as Luna."

"My wolf is weak?" I stared at him in disbelief. "I've fought in underground rings for years to pay off your father's debts. I've dealt with Rogues, collected protection money—"

"Exactly." His eyes hardened. "You've done the dirty work. But you can't lead. You can't negotiate with other Alphas. You can't represent our pack with the dignity it deserves."

Luna snarled within me, her rage burning through my veins. *Lies! All lies!*

"You should be grateful," Mason continued, his voice softening as he tried to take my hand again. "I could have cast you out entirely. Instead, I'm keeping you close. You'll still be by my side, still be the mother of my children."

"The mother of your children," I repeated numbly. "But not your Luna."

"You'll manage the pack's finances from the shadows," he said, finally grasping my wrist. "That's where your real value lies, Jocelyn. You're brilliant with numbers—with money. Aura brings political connections. You bring... practical skills."

I yanked my hand away, disgust rising in my throat. "Practical skills. Like fighting until I bleed for your father's gambling debts."

"Don't be dramatic." He stood, straightening his robes. "This arrangement benefits everyone."

After he left, locking the door behind him, I curled into a ball on the floor. Tears wouldn't come—only a hollow ache that spread through my chest.

Then something shifted—a strange cramping sensation low in my abdomen. I sat up, confused by the sudden pain and the odd scent that seemed to be emanating from my own skin.

Luna stirred within me, suddenly alert. *Pup. Our pup.*

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I was pregnant. With Mason's child.

A fierce, primal instinct surged through me, cutting through the fog of despair. I couldn't raise my child as a mistress, sneered at by the pack, treated as nothing more than a vessel for heirs.

I rose shakily to my feet, scanning the room for anything useful. My fingers closed around a hairpin I'd dropped earlier—a simple metal bobby pin that had fallen from my hastily pinned hair.

With practiced movements learned from years of picking locks in the underground fighting pits, I bent the metal into shape. Mason thought my "practical skills" were limited to managing his money. He'd forgotten what else I'd learned in those brutal years.

The lock gave way with a soft click.

I slipped into the hallway, barefoot to silence my steps. The pack house was quiet now, most members celebrating the new Alpha and Luna in the Great Hall. I knew the servants' passages—narrow corridors that allowed staff to move unseen through the grand building.

The back staircase would lead me down to the kitchens, then to the service entrance. Freedom lay just beyond those doors.

I was halfway down the stairs when a shadow moved above me.

"So this is where you scurry to."

The Former Luna stood at the top of the staircase, her elegant figure silhouetted against the hallway light. Her eyes narrowed as she descended toward me, each step deliberate and threatening.

"You smell different," she said, inhaling deeply. "Your scent has... changed."

My hand instinctively moved to my stomach as her eyes tracked the movement.

"No," she whispered, her face contorting with rage. "No, no, no."

She moved with surprising speed for a woman her age, blocking my path down the stairs. "You think you can carry my son's heir? A low-born wolf like you?"

Her perfectly manicured nails extended into claws as she advanced toward me, her eyes gleaming with hatred. "Aura will bear the next Alpha of this pack. Not some underground fighter's whore."