The champagne flutes caught the chandelier light like a thousand tiny suns, and I smiled through every single one of them.

That was the job. That was always the job.

I am Athena Bishop, Luna of the Dark Moon Pack, and tonight was our mating anniversary gala. Five years of what the pack called a blessed union—Kane's strength, my grace, two bloodlines woven together by the Moon Goddess herself. The great hall smelled of jasmine garlands and roasted boar, and somewhere behind me, a string quartet played something soft and romantic that I couldn't quite hear over the sound of my own heartbeat.

I pressed my fingertips to the bite mark on my neck without thinking. An old habit.

The warmth that used to radiate from that spot—that quiet, steady pulse of the bond—was barely there tonight. Thin. Like a candle burning down to its last inch of wick. I told myself it was the stress of the upcoming Alpha Summit. I told myself Kane was simply distracted by pack business.

I told myself a lot of things.

"Luna Athena." Mira, one of the younger Deltas, dipped her head as I passed. "Have you seen the Alpha? It's nearly time for the toast."

"He's nearby," I said, keeping my voice light. "I'll find him."

She smiled, reassured. That was the other part of the job—making everyone feel like everything was fine, even when the bond running through your chest felt like a phone call no one was answering.

I moved through the crowd, nodding, touching shoulders, laughing at the right moments. Fifteen feet of silk train whispered behind me. The ceremonial white was Kane's preference—he said it made me look like what a Luna should be. I used to find that romantic.

Kane's scent hit me on the second-floor landing. Pine and dark amber, familiar as my own skin. I followed it the way I always had, instinctively, the bond pulling me like a thread.

And then I smelled something else.

Sweet. Thick. Cloying in the way that cheap perfume gets when it's sprayed over something you're trying to hide. Floral, but wrong—like roses left in stagnant water.

Skyla Fox.

I knew her scent. Every wolf in the pack did. She was an Omega who worked in the pack house, always hovering at the edges of rooms Kane occupied, always smiling that particular smile at him. I had noticed. I had dismissed it. I had told myself I was imagining things, that Kane would never—

The restricted corridor. His private office.

I stopped outside the door.

Every rational part of me said to walk away. To go back downstairs. To give the toast, cut the cake, and deal with this later, quietly, the way a Luna handles things.

But my wolf had gone very, very still inside me. Not calm. Coiled.

I pressed my ear to the wood.

Kane's voice first, low and amused. "—doesn't even notice. She floats around down there in her white dress, playing queen, completely oblivious. Frigid as ever."

A soft laugh. Hers. "She always did care more about appearances than anything real."

The clink of glass.

Then Skyla again, quieter: "Is the dosage ready? For tomorrow's tea, before the Summit?"

"Concentrated wolfsbane and silver, dissolved in the blend she always requests." Kane's voice was so casual. So utterly, terrifyingly casual. "By the time the opening ceremony starts, she'll be fighting her shift in front of every Alpha on the continent. They'll see exactly what I've been telling them—that she's unstable. Dangerous. Unfit."

"And then?"

"And then I reject her in front of the Council, void the mating contract, and her family's territorial claim dies with the bond." A pause. The sound of fabric shifting. "It's almost too easy."

I don't remember walking to the guest bathroom at the end of the hall. I don't remember locking the door.

I remember the cold tile against my knees. I remember my body deciding, without my permission, to empty itself of everything—the champagne, the canapés, five years of a life I had built around a man who was currently discussing the most efficient way to destroy me.

My wolf screamed. Not a sound—a sensation, something tearing through my ribs from the inside, claws raking against my control, demanding I go back through that door and—

"Stop."

I said it out loud. To her. To myself.

I gripped the edge of the sink and pulled myself upright.

The mirror showed me a woman in white with silver flashing in her eyes, jaw clenched so hard it ached, mascara threatening at the corners but not—not yet—falling.

Kane wanted feral. Kane was counting on feral.

I breathed in. I breathed out. I watched the silver fade from my irises, replaced by something colder and far more dangerous.

He wanted to destroy me in front of the Council.

I was going to let him try.

Kane brought me breakfast in bed.

That should have been my first warning. In five years of marriage, he'd never once carried a tray up the stairs himself. That was what Omegas were for, what staff existed to handle. But there he was, shouldering through the bedroom door with a silver platter balanced on one hand, that easy smile I used to love stretched across his face.

"Morning, beautiful." He set the tray across my lap with exaggerated care. Poached eggs. Toast points. A crystal glass of orange juice. And a small porcelain cup filled with something dark and herbal that smelled like licorice and rot.

"What's this?" I kept my voice soft, sleepy. The perfect picture of a Luna who'd had too much champagne at her own anniversary gala.

"Just a tonic." Kane sat on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress. "You seemed stressed last night. Thought it might help with your nerves before the Summit."

My nerves.

I picked up the cup. The liquid inside was thick, almost syrupy, with an oily sheen catching the morning light. My wolf recoiled from it instantly, a visceral rejection that made my stomach clench.

"That's sweet of you." I brought it to my lips, watching him over the rim. His eyes tracked the movement with an intensity that had nothing to do with affection. Hungry. Waiting.

I tilted the cup. Let the liquid touch my bottom lip. Tasted nothing but made a small sound of appreciation.

Kane's shoulders relaxed a fraction.

"I need to grab my Summit files from the wardrobe," he said, standing. "Drink up. You'll feel better, I promise."

The moment his back turned, I dumped the entire cup into the potted fern on my nightstand. The dense leaves swallowed the liquid without a sound. I pressed the empty cup to my lips again, throat working in a fake swallow, and set it down just as Kane turned back around.

"All gone?" His smile was warm. Proud, even.

"All gone." I pressed my fingers to my temple. "Though I think I'm getting a headache."

"That's normal." He crossed back to me, kissed my forehead. His lips were cold. "It'll pass. Just rest today. Big night tomorrow."

He left whistling.

I waited until his footsteps faded down the hall before I moved. My hands were shaking—not from fear, from rage so pure it felt like lightning in my veins. I grabbed my phone and texted Wren: *Training room. Now. Code black.*

She was there in four minutes.

The panic room was soundproof, built into the basement of the pack house for emergency war councils. Concrete walls. Steel door. No windows. Wren locked it behind her and turned to me with her warrior's assessment already cataloging threats.

"What happened?"

I told her. Every word I'd overheard. Every detail of this morning's performance. The poison disguised as care.

Wren's eyes flashed gold. Her wolf surged so close to the surface I could see her canines lengthening, her fingers curling into claws. "I'm going to rip his throat out. Right now. I'm going to—"

"Wren." I used my Luna Voice. Not loud. Not a shout. Just that particular frequency of command that made her wolf snap to attention despite the fury. "Stand down."

She froze. Shook her head like she was trying to clear water from her ears. "Athena—"

"If you kill him, it's treason. The Council will execute you, and I'll have lost my only ally." I stepped closer, dropped my voice back to normal. "We don't need violence. We need annihilation."

Wren's breathing was ragged, but she was listening.

"He wants me to look insane at the Summit," I continued. "So that's exactly what I'm going to give him. I'll play the mad Luna. You gather proof—recordings, scent trails, financial records of whatever he's been funneling to rogues. We build a case so airtight the Council has no choice but to strip him of everything."

"A Trojan Horse." Understanding dawned in Wren's eyes. "You're going to let him think he's winning."

"Until the moment I destroy him."

Wren's smile was all teeth. "When do we start?"

"Now."

The Pack House common room was full during lunch. Perfect.

I walked in carrying a tray of tea and sandwiches, my hands deliberately unsteady. Halfway across the room, I let it slip. China shattered. Tea spread across the hardwood in a dark stain.

An Omega—young, maybe nineteen—rushed forward to help. "Luna, let me—"

"Don't touch me!" I rounded on her, letting my voice crack high and sharp. "You're all watching me, aren't you? All of you, whispering, plotting—"

The room went silent. Shocked faces. Concerned murmurs.

From the second-floor balcony, I caught movement. Kane and Skyla, standing close, watching. When our eyes met, Kane's expression was perfectly crafted concern. But Skyla—Skyla smiled.

I let my shoulders shake. Pressed my hands to my face. Let them see exactly what they wanted to see.

That night, I checked the fern.

The leaves had turned black. Withered. Dead.

Concentrated wolfsbane and silver. Enough to kill.

I touched the blackened leaves with one finger, feeling the brittle texture of something poisoned beyond recovery. This was what Kane had wanted to put inside me. This was what he'd smiled about while kissing my forehead.

My wolf growled low in my chest, and this time, I let her.

Because we weren't prey anymore.

We were predators. And the hunt had just begun.

The pack run was scheduled for dawn.

Kane announced it at breakfast, all Alpha authority and easy confidence. "Full warrior formation. We need to tighten our perimeter drills before the Summit." His eyes found mine across the table. "You should rest, Athena. You've been looking pale."

"I think I will." I pressed my fingers to my temple, let my hand tremble just slightly. "The headaches are getting worse."

Concern flickered across his face. Genuine-looking. Oscar-worthy. "Maybe you should see Dr. Cross today. Just to be safe."

"Maybe."

Wren caught my eye from her position near the door. The barest nod. She understood.

Two hours later, I was standing in the Luna suite screaming at the housekeeping staff.

"I can smell them!" I grabbed fistfuls of the curtains, yanking hard enough that the rings scraped against the rod. "Enemies. Rogues. Someone's been in here, touching my things, leaving their scent everywhere!"

Mrs. Chen, the head housekeeper, held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Luna, I assure you, no one unauthorized has—"

"Then explain this!" I shoved my face into the fabric, inhaling dramatically. "It's everywhere. In the walls. In the sheets. You need to strip everything. Deep clean. Now."

The staff exchanged glances. Worried. Pitying.

Perfect.

While they scrambled to gather cleaning supplies, while every Omega in the pack house converged on the Luna suite with buckets and brushes, Wren was three floors down, moving through Kane's office like smoke.

She told me later how easy it was. How the pack run had pulled every warrior to the northern border. How the office door wasn't even locked because Kane was so confident, so arrogant, so certain that his fragile little Luna was too broken to be a threat.

The listening device went under the desk, magnetic backing adhering to the metal support beam with a soft click. Military grade. Voice-activated. Encrypted signal that fed directly to the burner phone in Wren's jacket.

Skyla's quarters took longer. The Omega wing was busier, more eyes, more risk. But Wren had always been the best at moving unseen. She slipped in during the shift change, when the hallways emptied for thirty seconds. The device went behind the headboard, nestled in the gap between wood and wall where no one would think to look.

By the time the pack run ended, Wren was back in the training room, and I was surrounded by stripped furniture and the chemical smell of industrial cleaner.

Kane found me there, sitting on the bare mattress, staring at nothing.

"Athena." He crouched in front of me, took my hands. His touch made my skin crawl, but I didn't pull away. "Mrs. Chen told me what happened. Are you okay?"

"I don't know." I let my voice crack. "I keep smelling things that aren't there. Hearing things. I think—I think something's wrong with me."

His thumb stroked over my knuckles. Soothing. Loving. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

Liar.

That evening, Wren and I sat in the panic room with the burner phone between us, volume low, listening.

Static first. Then footsteps. A door closing.

Skyla's voice, petulant and sharp: "How much longer do we have to wait? She's falling apart faster than we planned. What if she breaks before the Summit?"

"She won't." Kane's voice was closer to the microphone, probably sitting at his desk. "I need the Council to see it happen in real time. Once she shifts at the Summit, the Council will have no choice but to grant me the Bishop lands. She'll be locked in the asylum by Monday."

The asylum.

My hands clenched into fists so tight my nails drew blood from my palms.

Wren's eyes flashed gold, but she stayed silent, listening.

"And us?" Skyla again, softer now. Seductive. "When do we make it official?"

"After the rejection. After the transfer of territory. Then you'll be Luna, and no one will question it."

The sound of kissing. Movement. I forced myself to keep listening, to not rip the phone apart with my bare hands.

Wren reached over and stopped the recording. "We have him."

"Not yet." I stood, pacing the small room. "We need more. Financial records. Proof of the rogue dealings. This is conspiracy, but we need treason."

"And the medical report?"

I checked my watch. "Dr. Cross is coming in an hour."

Wren's expression darkened. "You're really going through with it?"

"I have to." I pulled the small vial from my pocket. Wolfsbane extract, diluted just enough to hurt without killing. "If the medical file is completely clean, Kane will know something's wrong. I need to give him what he expects."

"Athena—"

"I can handle it."

I couldn't handle it.

The wolfsbane hit my system like liquid fire. I'd taken it an hour before Dr. Cross arrived, thinking I could manage the pain, control the symptoms.

I was wrong.

It burned through my veins like acid, like something alive and vicious trying to claw its way out through my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, too fast, too hard. Sweat soaked through my shirt. My wolf thrashed inside me, panicked and confused, trying to heal damage I'd deliberately inflicted.

Dr. Cross took my pulse with cold fingers and smiled.

"Elevated heart rate. Significant agitation. Pupils dilated." She made notes on her tablet, each tap of her stylus feeling like a nail in a coffin. "Early signs of feral degeneration, I'm afraid. We'll need to monitor this closely."

"What does that mean?" I forced the words out through clenched teeth.

"It means, Luna, that your wolf is becoming unstable." She packed up her equipment with brisk efficiency. "I'll be recommending increased supervision. For your own safety, of course."

She left.

I made it to the bathroom before I vomited, my body trying to purge the poison I'd willingly swallowed.

Wren found me there twenty minutes later, shaking on the tile floor.

"I got it," I whispered. "The false diagnosis. Evidence of malpractice."

Wren pulled me into her arms, and for just a moment, I let myself break.

But only for a moment.

Because tomorrow, we'd start gathering the financial records.

And by the Summit, Kane Montgomery would have nothing left to stand on.