I stood before the mirror in our—no, his—bedroom, my fingers trembling as I wrapped the silk bandage around my wrist. Not to hide a wound. To hide the tremor that had started three months ago, the physical manifestation of a bond slowly dying from neglect.

The white fabric felt cool against my skin as I tied it with practiced efficiency. Luna Gabriella of the Blood Claw Pack couldn't afford to show weakness. Not tonight. Not at the Annual Moonlight Gala where every visiting Alpha would scrutinize Bruno's mate, searching for cracks in the legendary bond that had once defied the Lycan Council itself.

I reached for the small vial on my vanity—scent blocker, thick and clinical. The label promised twelve hours of complete masking. Twelve hours of being invisible, even to werewolf senses. I uncapped it and applied the gel to my pulse points: wrists, throat, behind my ears. The places where my natural scent would normally bloom.

The places Bruno used to bury his face and breathe me in like I was oxygen itself.

Now he sought that scent in others. Young she-wolves with innocent eyes and naive laughter. Girls who smelled like I used to, before three years of being Luna had stripped away whatever fragile sweetness had captivated the Blood Claw Pack's most feared Alpha.

I watched my reflection blur as the blocker took effect, erasing my presence until I became ghost-like. Fitting. I'd been a ghost in my own mating for months now.

The balcony doors were open, letting in the cool night air and the sounds of the gala beginning below. I should go down. Greet the guests. Smile. Play the role of the devoted Luna standing beside her powerful Alpha.

But first, I allowed myself this moment of weakness. I stepped onto the balcony and looked down at the grand hall's entrance, where luxury cars were pulling up in an endless stream of wealth and power.

And there he was.

Bruno emerged from a black Mercedes, his Alpha aura radiating even from this distance. He wore a tailored black suit that emphasized his predatory grace, his dark hair perfectly styled. He looked every inch the legend—the Alpha who had endured the brutal Gauntlet trial, who had defied the Council, who had transformed himself from monster to mate.

For me. He'd done it all for me.

Then she stepped out behind him.

Kayleigh. Young, bright-eyed Kayleigh with her artless smile and her innocent scent that Bruno claimed reminded him of simpler times. She wore a pale blue dress with delicate embroidery along the bodice, her blonde hair falling in soft waves.

My breath caught. I knew that dress. Not the exact one, but its twin. I'd worn it to our first pack gathering as mates, back when Bruno would pull me close and whisper that I was his salvation, his peace, his everything.

Now that dress adorned his companion while I stood alone on a balcony, wrapped in bandages and scent blockers, trying to disappear.

Kayleigh's hand slipped through Bruno's arm with practiced ease. He didn't pull away. Didn't even seem to notice the impropriety of entering the Blood Claw Pack's most important social event with his mistress on his arm while his Luna watched from above.

I should feel rage. Betrayal. The hot, burning fury of a mate scorned.

But I only felt tired.

So very tired.

I turned from the balcony and smoothed down my own gown—deep burgundy silk that made my skin look pale, almost translucent. Luna colors. Dignified. Mature. Everything I'd become and everything Bruno no longer wanted.

The grand hall glittered with crystal chandeliers and elegant decorations when I finally descended the stairs. Visiting Alphas mingled with their Lunas, Betas discussed territory matters over champagne, and the air thrummed with carefully controlled power.

I moved through the crowd like the ghost I'd made myself, my masked scent making me forgettable even as my title demanded acknowledgment. A few wolves nodded respectfully. Most looked through me, their attention drawn to the vibrant center of the room where Bruno held court, Kayleigh still attached to his side like a pretty accessory.

Alpha Marcus from the Silver Ridge Pack stood near the refreshment table. An older wolf, respected, with kind eyes that had seen too much politics. I approached, forcing my Luna smile into place.

"Alpha Marcus," I greeted, extending my hand. "Welcome to Blood Claw territory. I hope your journey was—"

"Oh, Luna Gabriella!" Kayleigh's voice cut through my words like claws through silk. She appeared at my elbow, her expression the picture of innocent concern. "You look so tired! Are you feeling well?"

The room's attention shifted. Subtle. Predatory. Wolves scenting drama.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," I said evenly, withdrawing my hand from Alpha Marcus's polite grip.

Kayleigh tilted her head, her blonde curls cascading over one shoulder. "It's just... well, you look so much older lately. So worn." Her voice dropped to a stage whisper that carried perfectly across the suddenly quiet space. "I suppose it's hard, being barren. The pack needs heirs, after all. No wonder Alpha Bruno seeks... vitality... elsewhere."

Something inside me snapped.

Not my control. Not my composure. Something deeper. Primal. The dormant instinct of a wolf I'd never had, rising from whatever broken place the Moon Goddess had left empty inside me.

My hand rose. Not to strike. To silence. To command respect the way a Luna should.

But across the room, Bruno's head whipped toward us. His eyes widened. And in that split second, I saw his interpretation: his fragile companion threatened by his aggressive mate.

His Alpha Aura exploded outward like a shockwave.

The room buckled under the pressure. Wolves dropped to their knees. Glasses shattered. And I—weightless, wolfless, powerless—felt the crushing force drive me backward.

Bruno moved with predatory speed, crossing the distance in a blur. His hand lashed out, claws extended, catching my raised wrist.

Pain. Sharp and immediate. The silk bandage bloomed red as his claws sliced through fabric and flesh.

Blood dripped onto the white marble floor. One drop. Two. Three.

The metallic scent should have triggered his wolf. Should have made him realize what he'd done.

But Kayleigh whimpered—a soft, pitiful sound—and Bruno's attention snapped to her instead. He pulled her against his chest, his large hand cradling her head, his scent rolling out in soothing waves meant to calm a distressed mate.

Meant for me. Used for her.

I stood there, blood running down my fingers, surrounded by the elite of the werewolf world, and watched my mate comfort his mistress while I bled alone.

Alpha Marcus's face had gone carefully blank. The visiting Lunas exchanged glances sharp with judgment and pity. Beta Eddie stood frozen near the entrance, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.

And I realized, with crystalline clarity, that I had become the villain in my own love story. The bitter, barren Luna who couldn't keep her Alpha satisfied. The jealous wife who threatened sweet, innocent girls.

The ghost who should have stayed invisible.

My phone buzzed in my clutch. A notification from a mind-link group I'd been added to weeks ago: "Scorned Lunas Support Network."

The latest message read: "Tip #47: Never confront the mistress in public. You'll always lose."

I looked down at my bleeding hand, at the ruined bandage that had hidden nothing after all.

They were right.

I'd already lost everything.

The medical wing smelled like antiseptic and lies.

I sat on the examination table, my hand extended palm-up while Dr. Helena worked in silence. The overhead light was too bright, making the blood look garish against my pale skin. Each stitch pulled through flesh with a soft tug that I felt distantly, like it was happening to someone else's body.

Maybe it was.

Maybe the real Gabriella had died months ago, and I was just the hollow shell left behind, going through the motions of being Luna.

"This will scar," Dr. Helena said quietly. Her hands were steady, professional. But I caught the tightness around her eyes, the way she wouldn't quite meet my gaze. "The claws went deep."

"It's fine."

"Gabriella—"

"Luna Gabriella," I corrected, my voice flat.

She paused mid-stitch. Then nodded, understanding the distance I was creating. The walls I was building between myself and every wolf in this pack who had watched me bleed and done nothing.

"Luna Gabriella," she amended carefully. "I need to ask... is the stress becoming too much? After everything that happened five months ago, your body needs—"

"The Luna has no pain," I interrupted. The words came out mechanical, rehearsed. Because I'd been saying them to myself for months now, trying to make them true through sheer repetition.

Dr. Helena's hands stilled. "That's not—"

"Please finish the stitches."

She did. Seven neat sutures across my palm, each one a reminder that my own mate had drawn my blood to protect another woman. When she tied off the final knot and reached for the bandage, I pulled my hand back.

"No bandage."

"You need to keep it clean—"

"No bandage," I repeated. "Let them see it."

Let them all see what their Alpha had done. Let the visiting wolves carry the story back to their packs: Bruno of the Blood Claw Pack, who once endured the Gauntlet for his mate, now struck her down for a mistress.

Dr. Helena's expression crumpled with something that looked like pity. I hated it. I stood, smoothing down my burgundy gown with my uninjured hand.

"Thank you for your service, Doctor."

I left before she could offer any more condolences I didn't want to hear.

The guest room was cold and impersonal. I'd been sleeping here for six weeks now, ever since the night I'd woken to find Bruno's side of the bed empty and his scent mixed with Kayleigh's floral perfume clinging to his skin when he'd finally returned at dawn.

I didn't bother turning on the lights. Just kicked off my heels and sank onto the edge of the bed, my phone clutched in my uninjured hand.

It buzzed. A notification from that group chat I'd been trying to ignore.

Scorned Lunas Support Network.

I opened it, some masochistic part of me needing to see how pathetic I'd become. How common.

The messages scrolled past in a blur of desperate advice:

*"Tip #52: Learn to cook his favorite meals exactly how his mother made them."*

*"Tip #53: Never question where he's been. Jealousy only drives them further away."*

*"Tip #54: Dye your hair to match his mistress. Sometimes they just need the fantasy."*

I stared at that last one until the words blurred. Dye my hair. Change myself. Become someone else entirely, just to win back scraps of affection from a mate who had forgotten how to love me.

Nausea rolled through my stomach in waves.

My thumb hovered over the leave group button. But I couldn't seem to press it. Couldn't seem to do anything except sit there in the dark, bleeding and broken, reading advice on how to beg for love that should have been freely given.

The phone slipped from my fingers onto the bed.

I needed to get out of this room. Out of this suffocating space that smelled like failure and resignation.

My feet carried me down the hallway before I'd consciously decided to move. Past the grand staircase. Past the portraits of previous Alphas and their Lunas, all looking regal and united. Past the life I'd thought I was building.

I stopped outside the master bedroom. Our bedroom. His bedroom now.

The door was unlocked. Of course it was. Bruno had nothing to hide anymore. His infidelity was pack knowledge, sanctioned by his silence and my acceptance.

I pushed it open.

The room looked exactly as I'd left it this morning. The bed we'd once shared, now made with military precision by staff who pitied me. The balcony where I'd stood and watched him arrive with her. The vanity where I'd applied scent blocker to make myself disappear.

I went to my jewelry box—the carved wooden one Bruno had given me after the mating ceremony. My fingers found the hidden compartment at the bottom.

The pressed flower lay inside, fragile and faded. A moonflower from the night he'd claimed me. The night he'd stood before the Lycan Council and declared that no trial, no law, no force in existence would keep him from making me his Luna.

I held it up to the light. It crumbled slightly at the edges, pieces of petal falling away like ash.

Just like us.

I looked at it for a long moment, remembering the man who had fought for me. The Alpha who had transformed himself from monster to mate, who had endured agony and humiliation, who had whispered promises against my skin in the dark.

That man was dead.

The wolf who had struck me tonight, who had cradled his mistress while I bled—that was who Bruno really was. Who he'd always been, perhaps, beneath the temporary madness of a fresh mate bond.

I walked to the trash can beside the vanity.

Dropped the flower inside.

Watched it settle among the discarded cotton pads and empty product bottles, just another piece of garbage.

Something inside my chest cracked. Not my heart—that had broken months ago. Something deeper. The foundation of hope I'd been clinging to, the belief that love could be enough, that devotion could bridge any gap, that sacrifice would eventually be rewarded.

All of it, dust.

I turned and walked out of the master bedroom for the last time.

Behind me, in the trash, a pressed moonflower slowly turned to dust.

I heard him before I saw him.

The heavy footsteps in the hallway. The door swinging open without a knock. The scent that hit me like a physical blow—expensive wine and Kayleigh's floral perfume, mixed together in a combination that made my stomach turn.

Bruno stood in the doorway of the guest room, his tie loosened, his jacket gone. He looked irritated. Not guilty. Not apologetic. Just annoyed, like I was a problem he needed to solve before returning to more important matters.

"There you are," he said, his voice carrying that edge of impatience I'd grown to recognize. "I've been looking for you."

I stood by the window, my injured hand hanging at my side. The stitches pulled when I moved. "I'm here."

"You left the gala." He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "Do you have any idea how that looked? The Luna disappearing after causing a scene?"

Causing a scene. That's what he called it. Not defending myself. Not standing up to his mistress's public humiliation. Causing a scene.

"I needed medical attention," I said quietly, holding up my hand so he could see the neat row of stitches across my palm. "Your claws went deep."

He barely glanced at it. "You shouldn't have raised your hand to her. Kayleigh is young, fragile. She was terrified, Gabriella. I had to spend the last hour calming her down, explaining that you didn't mean to threaten her."

Something cold settled in my chest. "I didn't threaten anyone."

"Your jealousy did." He ran a hand through his hair, that familiar gesture of frustration. "You've been hysterical lately. Emotional. I understand it's difficult, being... the way you are. But you can't take it out on innocent pack members."

The way I am. Barren. Wolfless. Broken.

"I'm leaving," I said. The words came out steady, calm. Final.

Bruno went very still. His eyes locked onto mine, and for the first time tonight, I had his full attention. "What did you say?"

"I'm leaving. This... us... it's over."

Panic flashed across his face. Real, genuine panic. Not concern for me. Fear of losing his possession. His status symbol. His tame Luna who was supposed to stay quietly in the background while he played out his fantasies with younger versions of who I used to be.

"No." His voice dropped, taking on that dangerous quality that made other wolves submit. "No, you're not."

"Bruno—"

"You need rest." He moved closer, his Alpha aura beginning to press against me. "You're not thinking clearly. You're upset, and you need to calm down and reflect on your behavior tonight."

I took a step back. "Don't do this."

"Do what? Take care of my mate?" His voice turned soft, condescending, like he was talking to a child. "You're exhausted, Gabriella. You're saying things you don't mean. In the morning, after you've rested, we'll talk about this properly."

"I mean every word."

His expression hardened. The softness vanished, replaced by something cold and commanding. The Alpha who had once torn through the Gauntlet, who had built his reputation on absolute dominance.

"Gabriella." My name came out as a warning.

I opened my mouth to speak. To tell him that his commands meant nothing anymore. That I was done being controlled, manipulated, gaslit into believing my pain was hysteria and my boundaries were jealousy.

But he didn't let me finish.

"YOU DO NOT LEAVE UNTIL I SAY YOU LEAVE."

The Alpha Command hit me like a freight train. His voice boomed with supernatural power, the words wrapping around my body like chains. My knees buckled. I crashed to the floor, my injured hand slamming against the hardwood.

Pain shot up my arm. The stitches pulled. But I couldn't move. Couldn't stand. The command held me down with invisible force, my wolfless body completely defenseless against his Alpha authority.

"You will stay here," Bruno continued, his voice still carrying that terrible power, "and reflect on your behavior. When you're ready to apologize and act like a proper Luna, we'll discuss this further."

I looked up at him from the floor, my vision blurring with tears I refused to let fall. He stood over me, tall and commanding, his face set in hard lines.

This was my mate. My fated bond. The wolf who had promised to protect me, cherish me, love me until the Moon Goddess herself called us home.

And he'd just used his Alpha power to force me to my knees.

"Bruno, please—"

But he was already walking away. The door slammed behind him. I heard the heavy click of the lock engaging from the outside.

Locked in. Commanded to stay. Trapped on my knees like a disobedient dog being punished.

I tried to stand. My muscles screamed in protest, fighting against the residual power of his command. It would wear off eventually—Alpha Commands always did—but for now, I was stuck.

I crawled. Inch by painful inch, dragging myself across the floor toward the window. My hand throbbed. My knees burned against the hardwood. But I kept moving until I reached the wall beneath the window.

Using the windowsill for support, I managed to pull myself up enough to see outside.

Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, dark and heavy. Lightning flickered in the distance. The wind had picked up, making the trees bend and sway.

Below, I could see the gala continuing. Wolves in elegant clothes, laughing and drinking. Living their lives while their Luna knelt alone in a locked room, held prisoner by the very bond that was supposed to set her free.

My protection had become my prison.

And I finally understood: Bruno didn't love me. He loved the idea of me. The memory of me. The ghost of the innocent Omega he'd saved.

The real me—the one who had grown, evolved, survived—he wanted to lock away and control until I disappeared completely.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and wondered how much longer I could survive in a cage built from a mate bond that had rotted from the inside out.