The Annual Moon Festival arrived with a flurry of colors and excitement. Lanterns hung from tree branches, casting golden light across the pack grounds. Tables laden with food stretched across the clearing, and pack members dressed in their finest clothes. Under different circumstances, I would have loved this night—the one time when rank mattered less than celebration.

I stood at the edge of the gathering, my hand pressed against my stomach. The small bump was barely visible now, but I felt our pup's presence with every heartbeat.

"You look pale, Luna." Elena appeared at my side, her elderly eyes filled with concern. "Perhaps you should rest."

"I'm fine," I lied, though my wolf remained worryingly silent within me.

"Alpha Cole requests your presence at the main stage," a young Delta announced, his expression carefully neutral.

I made my way through the crowd, feeling dozens of eyes track my movement. Whispers followed me—about my increasing isolation, about Sloan's growing influence, about whether I was still truly Luna.

Cole stood on the raised platform, his arm around Sloan's waist. She wore a stunning red dress that hugged every curve, while I'd chosen a simple blue gown that would hide my condition.

"My pack," Cole's voice boomed across the gathering. "Tonight we celebrate not just the moon, but our strength!"

The crowd cheered, but I noticed the elders exchanging worried glances.

"To demonstrate our resilience," Sloan continued seamlessly, as if they'd rehearsed this moment, "we've arranged a special exhibition."

My blood ran cold as she turned to me, her smile sharp as a blade.

"Our Luna will demonstrate her... unique abilities."

"I can't," I whispered urgently to Cole as Sloan beckoned me forward. "You know I'm not well."

"We've discussed this," Cole hissed through clenched teeth. "This is non-negotiable."

"I'm carrying your pup," I pleaded, clutching his arm. "Please."

Something flickered in his eyes—doubt, perhaps—but Sloan was already announcing my participation to the eager crowd.

"Private matters can wait," he said coldly, pulling away from my touch. "My authority won't be questioned."

He led me to the center of the stage where a table had been set up with various items—including a small vial labeled with the skull symbol of Wolfsbane.

"Traditionally, our Luna would demonstrate her healing abilities," Sloan announced, her voice carrying across the hushed crowd. "Tonight, we'll show something even more impressive—her resilience to toxins!"

"No," I gasped, backing away. "Cole, I can't—not with the pup—"

His eyes hardened. "You will participate," he commanded, the Alpha tone hitting me like a physical blow. "Or I'll consider it a direct challenge to my authority."

The crowd watched in tense silence as Sloan uncorked the vial.

"Just a small amount on your skin," she said sweetly, holding it toward me. "To show how quickly you'll heal."

I looked to the crowd, searching for sympathetic faces—finding only Elena's horrified expression and Marcus's uncomfortable avertance.

"Don't do this," I begged Cole one last time.

He simply stared back, his expression cold and unfamiliar.

Sloan's smile widened as she dabbed the Wolfsbane on my wrist. "Watch carefully, everyone!"

Normally, my skin would seal instantly around such a small amount. But instead, I felt a burning sensation that spread rapidly up my arm.

"Something's wrong," I gasped, clutching my wrist as the pain intensified.

The crowd murmured in confusion as Sloan's smile faltered slightly.

"Why isn't she healing?" someone called out.

The burning became searing agony that shot through my veins like liquid fire. I doubled over, a scream tearing from my throat as darkness edged my vision.

"The pup!" I cried out, clutching my stomach. "Cole, the pup!"

But he stood frozen, his face a mask of shock and anger as I collapsed to my knees on the stage.

The last thing I saw before consciousness fled was Sloan's expression—not concern, but calculation.

---

I woke to sterile white walls and the antiseptic smell of the pack hospital. For one blissful moment, I thought perhaps it had all been a nightmare.

Then the hollow ache in my abdomen registered, and I knew.

"No," I whispered, my hand flying to my stomach. "No, please, no."

The door opened, and Cole strode in—not rushing to my bedside in concern, but stalking in like a thunderstorm.

"Explain yourself," he demanded, his voice cold with fury.

"I lost our pup," I choked out, tears streaming down my face.

"You mean you killed my heir," he spat. "In front of the entire pack."

I stared at him in disbelief. "How can you say that? You forced me to participate!"

"Sloan warned me this might happen," he continued as if I hadn't spoken. "She said your... condition... might be affecting your stability."

"My condition?" I echoed weakly.

"Your weakness," he clarified, his eyes flashing gold with anger. "She's been trying to help me see it for weeks."

The mate bond between us—once warm and vibrant—felt like a threadbare rope about to snap.

"You've been lying to me," he accused, pacing the small room. "Hiding your... defect."

I closed my eyes, too exhausted for his cruelty. "I loved you," I whispered.

Something shifted in his expression—a flicker of doubt, perhaps—but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Get some rest," he said finally, turning toward the door. "We'll discuss your future in the pack tomorrow."

As he left without looking back, I felt the last thread of our bond snap completely, leaving nothing but emptiness where love had once lived.

The hospital room door burst open, and Sloan strode in with purposeful steps, her black hair gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. Behind her, Cole entered with a grave expression that made my heart sink.

"I've consulted with the pack elders," Sloan announced, her voice dripping with false concern. "And I'm afraid I have difficult news."

I struggled to sit up, my body still weak from the miscarriage. "What is it?"

Sloan exchanged a look with Cole before continuing. "You're suffering from Wolf Rot."

"Wolf Rot?" I echoed, confusion washing over me. "That's not possible. I've never heard of—"

"It's extremely rare," Sloan cut in smoothly. "A spiritual disease that affects werewolves with... compromised bloodlines."

Cole's jaw tightened as he stared down at me. "Is it contagious?"

"Highly," Sloan lied, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "It's already beginning to spread through the pack house."

I shook my head in disbelief. "This is absurd. There's no such thing as Wolf Rot."

"Are you calling our Head Healer a liar?" Cole's voice was ice cold as he stepped closer. "After everything you've done?"

"I lost our pup," I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. "I'm grieving."

"And the pack needs protection," he countered. "Sloan has evidence of your... condition."

She produced a folder containing charts and graphs that meant nothing to me. "The symptoms are clear—your healing abilities failing, your wolf retreating, your inability to carry an heir to term."

Each word was a dagger to my heart. My wolf remained silent within me, still conserving energy after our loss.

"The pack cannot have a Luna who carries such a curse," Cole declared, his voice taking on the formal tone of an official decree. "I hereby strip Isla Stewart of her title and position."

The words hit me like physical blows. Five years of loyalty, of love, of hiding my true nature to protect him—all discarded in a single moment.

"You can't do this," I gasped.

"I can and I have," he replied coldly. "The ceremony will be tonight."

---

Two guards escorted me from the Alpha suite that evening, carrying the few belongings I was permitted to take. The pack gathered in the courtyard, their faces a blur of curiosity and judgment as I was marched past them.

"Where am I being taken?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"Somewhere appropriate for your new status," one guard replied, not unkindly.

They led me down narrow stairs to the basement level of the pack house—a damp, cold section reserved for servants and omegas. A small room with bare necessities awaited me.

"You'll be working in the laundry room starting tomorrow," the second guard informed me. "Six hours a day, plus kitchen duty."

I stared at the thin mattress on the floor, the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. "This is inhumane."

"With respect, Luna—former Luna—these are Alpha's orders."

As they left, locking the door behind them, I sank to my knees on the cold floor. Through the small window near the ceiling, I could hear music and laughter from the celebration above—Cole and Sloan announcing their new positions to the pack.

---

"Move faster!" The kitchen mistress shoved another pile of dirty dishes toward me. "Omega duties aren't for delicate hands."

I bit my tongue as I plunged my raw, bleeding fingers into the scalding water. Three weeks of this treatment had worn me down, but I refused to break.

From the great hall above came the sound of applause and cheers. Another week, another celebration—this time announcing Sloan's official position as Cole's "partner in leadership."

"Did you hear?" An omega whispered to another as they passed. "The Alpha and Sloan are already sharing the Alpha suite."

I kept scrubbing, ignoring the burn of tears in my eyes.

Later that day, as I carried linens to the laundry room, I overheard Marcus speaking urgently to Cole in the hallway.

"The Council has heard rumors about Isla's bloodline," he said, his voice low but clear to my enhanced hearing. "They're sending investigators next week."

"What?" Cole hissed. "How did they find out?"

"Sloan's been asking questions about rare bloodlines to other packs," Marcus replied. "Word got back to the Council."

I froze, linens clutched to my chest.

"If they discover what Isla truly is," Marcus continued, "they'll claim rights to her. The White Wolf bloodline belongs to the royal Lycan line—it's not for us to control."

"What are you suggesting?" Cole demanded.

"We need to contain this situation," Marcus replied. "Before it's too late."

Their voices faded as they moved away, but the fear their conversation instilled in me lingered. The Werewolf Council—the highest authority among our kind—was coming for me.

And based on the panic in Cole's voice, he had no intention of protecting me when they arrived.

I was scrubbing pots in the kitchen when I overheard Sloan's voice from the hallway. She was speaking to Cole in hushed tones, but my enhanced hearing caught every word.

"There's only one solution," she murmured, her voice dripping with false concern. "The Wolf Rot has progressed too far. Isla is dying."

I froze, my hands still plunged in the grimy water. Dying? I felt weak, yes—devastated by the loss of my pup and the betrayal of my mate—but dying?

"What do you suggest?" Cole's voice was cold, detached. The man who once looked at me with warmth now spoke of my death as casually as if discussing the weather.

"An ancient ritual," Sloan replied. "One that can save the pack while... easing her suffering."

I strained to hear more, my heart pounding against my ribs.

"The White Wolf essence is still within her," Sloan continued. "Dormant, yes, but powerful. If we extract it before she passes—"

"Extract it?" Cole interrupted. "How?"

Sloan's voice dropped lower, forcing me to lean closer to the door. "We transfer it to someone else. Someone strong enough to wield its power."

There was a long pause, and I held my breath.

"You want her power," Cole finally said, not a question but a realization.

"I want what's best for the pack," Sloan corrected smoothly. "Think of it, Cole. With the White Wolf's healing abilities, we could build an unstoppable army. No more losses. No more weakness."

I heard Cole's sharp intake of breath. "And Isla?"

"The ritual is... final," Sloan admitted. "But it's merciful, don't you see? She's suffering now. This way, her wolf's essence lives on in service to the pack."

My hands trembled as I gripped the edge of the sink. They were discussing my death—my wolf's death—as if it were a business transaction.

"Make the preparations," Cole said finally, his voice hardening with resolve. "Tonight."

---

Two guards came for me at sunset.

"By order of Alpha Cole," one announced formally, "you are to be detained for questioning."

I didn't resist as they grabbed my arms. What was the point? My wolf remained silent within me, still conserving energy after our loss.

Instead of the usual interrogation room, they led me down a narrow staircase I'd never seen before. The air grew colder, damper with each step. We descended deeper than the basement level, into a part of the pack house I hadn't known existed.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Somewhere secure," the second guard replied, not meeting my eyes.

At the bottom of the stairs, a heavy metal door barred our way. The first guard produced a key and unlocked it with a metallic scrape that echoed in the darkness.

The room beyond was small and circular, with stone walls that glistened with moisture. In the center stood a table—ancient, stone, with runes carved into its surface. Silver chains dangled from each corner.

"Strap her down," a familiar voice commanded.

Sloan stepped from the shadows, her smile triumphant as she circled the table. She wore a black robe embroidered with symbols I didn't recognize—symbols that made my skin crawl.

"Do you like it?" she asked, gesturing to the room. "The silver lining helps contain the magic. We wouldn't want your precious essence escaping."

The guards forced me onto the table, securing my wrists and ankles with the silver chains. The metal burned against my skin, sending waves of pain up my arms.

"Cole!" I called out, knowing he must be nearby. "Don't do this!"

"He's not here," Sloan said, leaning close. "He couldn't bear to watch. But don't worry—I'll make sure you feel everything."

She produced a ceremonial dagger from within her robes—its handle carved from bone, its blade etched with more of those unsettling symbols.

"Did you really think I didn't know what you were?" she hissed, tracing the flat of the blade across my collarbone. "The great White Wolf, hiding in plain sight."

I turned my face away, but she gripped my chin, forcing me to look at her.

"I've been tracking your bloodline for years," she continued, her eyes gleaming with obsession. "Do you know how rare you are? How powerful?"

"Please," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "I never hurt anyone."

"That's the problem," Sloan said, her voice hardening. "You were supposed to be a legend—not some pathetic Luna playing house with an Alpha who doesn't deserve you."

The dagger pressed against my throat, its tip drawing a thin line of blood.

"I knew about your pregnancy," she admitted, her lips curving into a cruel smile. "It was so easy to arrange the Wolfsbane demonstration. One little vial, and your pup was gone—along with your protection."

Horror washed over me as her words sank in. "You poisoned me? You killed my baby?"

"I weakened you," she corrected. "The Wolfsbane did what it was meant to do—reveal your true nature. A White Wolf can't hide forever, Isla."

She raised the dagger above her head, its blade catching the dim light as she prepared to strike.

"Your wolf will die tonight," she whispered. "But its power will live on—in me."