The door to the Luna Suite creaked open, startling me from my half-conscious state. I'd been lying on the floor since Grayson left, my body still aching from his Alpha command. The room was dark except for a sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

"Psst! Dakota!" A soft voice called. "It's me, Elena."

I struggled to lift my head, blinking to clear my vision. Elena Cross, one of the pack's youngest nurses, slipped inside and quickly closed the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered, my voice raw from crying.

Elena knelt beside me, her eyes wide with concern. "I saw what happened. What he did to you." She gently helped me sit up, wincing at the bruises on my neck. "I brought water."

The cool glass against my cracked lips was heaven. I drank greedily, then pulled back to study Elena's face. We'd never been close—she was just a junior nurse, barely out of training—but there was something in her eyes I recognized. Anger. Not at me, but for me.

"They're saying you had an accident," she whispered, helping me into a sitting position. "But I know the truth. I've seen how he treats you."

"Why are you helping me?" I asked, wary of another trap.

Elena's jaw tightened. "Because I'm tired of watching him destroy people. And because..." She hesitated, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a small phone. "I have this."

"A burner phone?" I breathed.

She nodded. "Not connected to the pack network. I've been using it to... well, it doesn't matter. But it can help you now."

My heart raced. "Help me how?"

"Send a message. To someone who can help you."

I closed my eyes, thinking fast. There was only one person powerful enough to stand against Grayson—the man my wolf had urged me to find. The man Grayson had exiled years ago.

"August Harvey," I whispered.

Elena's eyes widened. "The Lycan King?"

"He's my only hope." I took the phone with trembling hands. "Can you get me to the bordering Rogue Lands network?"

"Rogues?" Elena looked nervous but nodded. "I know a trader who can get messages through."

I typed quickly, my fingers flying across the keys as I composed an encrypted message:

"To the Exiled King of the Eastern Territories. This is Dakota Miller, daughter of the late Beta James Miller of Silver Creek Pack. I offer you a political alliance—my legitimate backing as the Beta's daughter in exchange for sanctuary and protection. The Alpha has betrayed his oath. The pack is in danger."

I paused, then added: "I am in danger. Help me."

Elena took the phone, her expression grim. "I'll get this to the trader tonight."

"Thank you," I whispered, clutching her hand. "Be careful."

---

The day of the Mate Ceremony arrived with cruel brightness. Sunlight streamed through the windows of the Pack House grand hall, illuminating the lavish decorations—white roses and silver ribbons adorning every surface. The room buzzed with excitement as pack members and visiting dignitaries filled the rows of chairs.

I sat in my wheelchair, positioned near the altar, feeling like a prop in someone else's play. Dr. Webb had indeed visited me last night, injecting me with something that made my thoughts sluggish and my limbs heavy. But I'd fought against the fog, focusing on one thing: survival.

"Ready to make your entrance?" Elder Thomas Kane asked, his voice gruff as he positioned himself behind my chair.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I replied, my tongue feeling thick.

He wheeled me toward the altar where Grayson stood waiting. Tall, handsome, and utterly vile. He wore his ceremonial Alpha robes, looking every bit the perfect leader. The crowd murmured appreciatively as we approached.

"Today," Elder Kane announced, "we witness the sacred bonding of our future Alpha, Grayson Harvey, to his chosen mate, Dakota Miller."

Grayson stepped forward, taking my hand in his. His grip was painfully tight.

"Under the blessing of the Moon Goddess," he began, his voice carrying throughout the hall, "I take this wolf as my Luna, to protect and cherish..."

His words washed over me as I fought to stay conscious. In the front row, Miley sat with her hand resting on her swollen belly, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

"...in sickness and in health, in strength and in weakness..."

I focused on breathing, on keeping my eyes open. Somewhere in this crowd sat August Harvey. I could feel it. My message had reached him.

Grayson continued his vows, playing the part of the devoted mate perfectly. The crowd was captivated by his performance.

"And now," Elder Kane announced, "the future Luna will respond with her vows."

Grayson squeezed my hand, his nails digging into my palm—a warning. I opened my mouth to speak the words I'd been forced to memorize.

But before I could utter a single syllable, a piercing scream cut through the hall.

"AAHHH!" Miley doubled over in her seat, clutching her stomach dramatically. "The baby! My baby!"

Grayson dropped my hand instantly, his face a mask of concern as he rushed to her side. "Miley! What's wrong?"

"The pain," she gasped, tears streaming down her face. "It's too early! Something's wrong with the baby!"

The crowd erupted in chaos as Grayson lifted Miley into his arms. "We need to get her to the infirmary!" he shouted.

And just like that, I was abandoned at the altar.

The ceremonial hall fell silent as Grayson rushed to Miley's side, his face a perfect mask of concern. I watched, frozen in my wheelchair, as he cradled her in his arms like she was made of glass.

"The baby," she sobbed, her performance flawless as she clutched her swollen belly. "Something's wrong with our baby!"

Our baby. The words echoed through the hall, and I felt hundreds of eyes turn to me—some pitying, others shocked, all waiting for me to crumble.

"Get the Healers!" Grayson commanded, his Alpha tone reverberating through the room. "Now!"

Dr. Webb scrambled forward, his medical bag clutched tightly. "This way, Alpha. I'll need to examine her immediately."

"Everyone stay calm," Elder Kane announced, though his voice wavered. "The ceremony will resume once we've ensured the Omega is stable."

But we all knew the truth. This was no medical emergency. This was calculated humiliation.

I sat alone at the altar, abandoned on what should have been the most important day of my life. The whispers started immediately.

"Poor thing," someone murmured. "She must be devastated."

"I've never seen an Alpha abandon his mate like that," another voice added.

"He chose an Omega over his Luna," a third person hissed. "What kind of Alpha does that?"

I waited for the tears to come—the tears that had been my constant companion for three years. But something had changed. The wolfsbane in my system was wearing off, burned away by my rage.

"She'll break," I heard someone say. "She always does."

No. Not this time.

With trembling hands, I reached into the folds of my ceremonial gown where Elena had hidden a small silver dagger. Its weight felt reassuring in my palm.

"I won't be your victim anymore," I whispered, so softly only I could hear.

I pressed the blade against my palm and sliced deeply. Blood welled up immediately, bright red against my pale skin. Gasps rippled through the crowd as I raised my bleeding hand over the ceremonial altar.

"Look!" someone shouted. "What is she doing?"

I let my blood drip onto the ancient stone, watching as it spread across the carved symbols of our pack's history.

"I, Dakota Miller," I began, my voice shaky but determined, "reject you, Grayson Harvey, as my mate and Alpha."

The words hung in the air, ancient and powerful. A ripple of energy surged through the room as the blood on the altar began to glow.

"I reject your false bond," I continued, my voice growing stronger with each word. "I reject your lies, your control, and your betrayal."

Grayson's head snapped up, his eyes widening in horror as he realized what was happening. "Stop her!" he shouted, but it was too late.

"By the power of my blood and my wolf," I declared, feeling something stirring deep within me, "I sever this false bond that was forced upon us both."

A shockwave of energy exploded outward from the altar. The chandelier above us swayed violently, and several glasses shattered on nearby tables.

Grayson collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest as if I'd driven a knife into his heart. His face contorted in agony as our fake bond snapped—a bond he'd created through lies and wolfsbane.

"No!" he screamed, reaching toward me. "You can't do this! You're nothing without me!"

Beside him, Miley shrieked in theatrical terror, doubling over again. "My baby! Someone help my baby!"

But I felt nothing—no pain, no regret, only a strange lightness as years of suppression fell away.

"You're under arrest for treason!" one of Grayson's guards shouted, lunging toward me.

I braced myself for the impact, but it never came.

The heavy oak doors of the grand hall exploded inward with a deafening crack. Wood splinters rained down on the stunned crowd as a figure stepped through the smoking entrance.

August Harvey.

He stood tall and imposing, his presence filling the room like a physical force. His dark hair was swept back from his forehead, and his eyes—a piercing ice-blue—surveyed the scene with calculated precision.

"Touch her," he said, his voice deceptively soft, "and die."

The guard froze mid-step, his body suddenly rigid with fear.

August took another step forward, and something changed in the air around us. A heavy, suffocating pressure filled the room as his Lycan aura expanded outward in waves.

One by one, every wolf in the room—from the highest-ranking Delta to Elder Kane himself—began to lower their heads and bare their necks in involuntary submission.

Even Grayson, still kneeling on the floor, found himself forced into the same position, his body betraying him as August's power crushed down upon us all.

"Hello, nephew," August said, his lips curving into a cold smile as he looked down at Grayson. "Miss me?"