The cage door hung open like a broken jaw.

I stared at it, my heart dropping into my stomach. The little wire door I always latched so carefully—open. The soft bedding I'd changed just yesterday—scattered. The water bottle—knocked over, dripping onto the floor.

Snowy was gone.

"No." The word came out strangled. I dropped to my knees, searching under the small table where I kept her cage. "Snowy? Baby, where are you?"

Nothing. Just dust and silence.

I tore through my quarters like a woman possessed. Under the bed. Behind the dresser. In the closet. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely pull open drawers. She had to be here. She had to be hiding, scared maybe, but safe.

Please, Goddess, let her be safe.

I yanked open my door and nearly collided with Marissa, one of the omega staff members.

"Have you seen Snowy?" My voice was too loud, too desperate. "My rabbit—she's white, about this big—"

"The Luna's pet?" Marissa's lip curled slightly. "No. Maybe it finally escaped all your... hovering."

She walked away before I could respond.

I spent the next hour searching. The kitchen staff barely looked up when I asked. The warriors in the training yard laughed, actually laughed, when I interrupted their drills. One of them—David, I think—made a joke about rabbit stew that made the others howl.

My wolf was whimpering, weak and anxious. She could barely sense anything anymore, not since the Wolfbane had damaged something fundamental inside us. But she felt my panic, and it fed hers, creating a horrible spiral of fear.

By the time I stumbled back to my quarters, my ribs—still healing from the cliff dive two weeks ago—were screaming. Each breath felt like broken glass.

Snowy was really gone.

The knock on my door made me jump.

"Claire." Kane didn't wait for permission. He stepped inside, his presence filling the small room instantly. "The Winter Solstice Banquet begins in three hours."

I turned to face him, hope flaring stupidly in my chest. "Kane, Snowy is missing. I've looked everywhere, and I think someone might have—"

"I need you to stay in your quarters until the main ceremony." His voice was flat, businesslike. "Your appearance lately has been... concerning to pack members."

The hope died. "My appearance?"

"You look ill. Pale. Weak." He gestured vaguely at me, not quite meeting my eyes. "It's bad for morale. Morgan has worked very hard on this celebration, and I won't have you dampening the atmosphere."

Morgan. Of course.

"Someone took my rabbit," I said quietly. "Kane, please. Just help me look for her. She's small and scared and—"

"It's a rabbit, Claire." His jaw tightened with barely concealed irritation. "The pack has more important concerns than a pet. Stay here. Someone will fetch you when it's time."

He left. Just like that.

I sank onto my bed, my broken ribs protesting, and stared at the empty cage. Snowy had been the only thing in this pack house that loved me without condition. The only creature who didn't look at me with disappointment or contempt. She would curl up in my lap when I cried, her little nose twitching against my fingers.

Now she was gone.

And Kane was arm-in-arm with Morgan somewhere, planning a party.

***

The banquet hall glittered with ice-blue decorations and silver ribbons. Candles flickered on every surface, casting dancing shadows across the assembled pack members. Everyone was dressed in their finest—furs and silks and leather that probably cost more than I'd ever owned.

I sat at the high table in a dress someone had left outside my door. It was too loose, hanging off my shoulders in a way that made me look even more skeletal than usual. My ribs still ached with every breath.

Kane sat at the center, magnificent in black and silver. Morgan was on his right, wearing a stunning gown of deep crimson. Her fur-lined cloak draped elegantly over her shoulders.

I was on his left, but I might as well have been invisible.

The feast began. Platters of roasted meat, fresh bread, winter vegetables glazed with honey. The scents should have been mouthwatering, but my stomach was twisted into knots. I pushed food around my plate, not tasting anything.

Morgan laughed at something Kane said, her hand resting on his arm. The sound carried across the table, bright and musical.

Then I saw it.

Hanging from the clasp of her cloak—a small charm. White fur, impossibly soft and pristine. Rabbit fur.

No.

My vision tunneled. The noise of the banquet faded to a distant roar.

Morgan turned her head, as if she could feel my stare. Our eyes met across Kane's broad shoulders. Slowly, deliberately, she reached up and fingered the white fur charm. Her lips moved, forming words meant only for me.

"It was so soft."

The world tilted.

I couldn't breathe. My chest was too tight, my lungs refusing to work. Snowy. That was Snowy. That was my Snowy's fur hanging from the neck of the woman who had been torturing me for seven years.

She killed her. She killed my rabbit and wore her as a trophy.

"Claire?" Kane's voice sounded far away. "What's wrong with you?"

I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't hold me. The room was spinning, black spots dancing across my vision. My broken ribs screamed as I gasped for air that wouldn't come.

Morgan smiled at me over the rim of her wine glass.

And I realized, with horrible clarity, that she wanted me to break right here, right now, in front of everyone.

She wanted them all to see the weak, hysterical Luna fall apart over a pet.

I was going to give her exactly what she wanted.

The wine spread across the white tablecloth like blood.

I watched it happen in slow motion—my hand knocking the goblet, the dark liquid arcing through candlelight, splashing onto the pristine fabric. The music stopped. Conversations died mid-sentence. Every eye in the banquet hall turned toward me.

And I couldn't stop crying.

The sobs tore out of me, ugly and desperate. Snowy's fur swayed gently against Morgan's throat as she leaned back in mock concern. That white softness that used to nuzzle against my palm when I was alone and breaking. Now a trophy. Now a taunt.

"Claire." Kane's voice cut through my gasping breaths like a blade. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

I couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. My broken ribs screamed with each heaving sob.

"Stand up." His Alpha Tone slammed into me, and my body obeyed before my mind could catch up. I rose on shaking legs, wine dripping from the table edge onto my too-loose dress. "You're making a scene over a rodent."

"She killed her," I choked out. "Morgan killed Snowy and she's wearing her—"

"Enough." Kane's eyes flashed gold with his wolf. The entire pack felt the weight of his dominance pressing down. "This is pathetic, Claire. Even for you."

Morgan touched his arm gently. "Alpha, perhaps the Luna isn't feeling well. The stress of the season—"

"The stress of being a spoiled, ungrateful mate who can't handle the smallest disappointment." He stood, towering over me. Around us, pack members whispered. I caught fragments—weak Luna, embarrassing, losing her mind. "You will apologize to Morgan for disrupting her celebration. Now."

The words stuck in my throat like shards of glass.

"I said NOW." The Alpha Command crushed down on me, stealing what little air I had left.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, looking at the woman wearing my rabbit's fur. "I'm sorry, Morgan."

She smiled, soft and forgiving. "Of course, Luna. I understand you're... struggling."

Kane dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "Go back to your quarters. You're done here."

I fled through the silent crowd, their stares burning into my back.

***

The blood came three days later.

I was in my quarters, staring at Snowy's empty cage, when the coughing started. At first it was just a tickle, an irritation in my throat. Then it became violent, wracking spasms that bent me double.

When I pulled my hand away from my mouth, it was covered in red.

Panic shot through me. My wolf whimpered weakly, barely conscious inside my mind. The burning started next—a searing pain in my veins, like liquid fire crawling through my bloodstream.

I stumbled to the pack clinic, each step agony. Dr. Reed looked up from his desk with barely concealed annoyance.

"Luna. What now?"

"I'm coughing up blood." I showed him my stained hands. "And my veins—they're burning. Something's wrong. Please, I need tests—"

"Sit down." He didn't move from his chair. "How long have you been experiencing these symptoms?"

"It started today, but I've been feeling weak for months. Years, actually. And my wolf, she can barely—"

"Your wolf is fine." He cut me off, making a note on his tablet. "What you're experiencing is psychosomatic. Stress-induced manifestations."

"Psychosomatic?" The word felt foreign on my tongue. "But the blood—"

"Can be caused by excessive coughing from anxiety. Which you clearly have in abundance." He set down his tablet and fixed me with a stern look. "Luna Claire, I'm going to be frank with you. These phantom illnesses, these dramatic displays—they're cries for attention. You're jealous of the bond between Alpha Kane and Morgan, and your mind is creating physical symptoms to justify that jealousy."

The room tilted. "No. No, that's not—"

"I'll be reporting to the Alpha that you came in with more fabricated symptoms." He stood, opening the door in clear dismissal. "Perhaps you should consider speaking with a therapist about your... issues."

I walked out in a daze, my hands still sticky with blood he refused to test.

***

My birthday dawned cold and gray.

I woke to pounding on my door. Before I could answer, it swung open. Morgan stood there, one hand pressed to her chest, her face pale and drawn.

"Claire." Her voice was breathy, weak. "I need your help."

Behind her, I could see pack members gathering in the hallway, their expressions worried. For her. Always for her.

"What's wrong?" The question came automatically, even though every instinct screamed at me to slam the door.

"My wolf—she's fading again. Badly this time." Morgan swayed, and two warriors rushed to steady her. "There's a flower. Moonflower. It grows in the northern woods, deep in the forest. It's the only thing that can stabilize her."

"The northern woods?" My mouth went dry. "Morgan, that's rogue territory. It's dangerous—"

"Which is why I can't go myself. I'm too weak." Her eyes met mine, and I saw the trap closing. "Please, Luna. As a favor. For the pack."

Kane's voice boomed from down the hall. "What's going on?"

Morgan turned to him, tears streaming down her face. "My wolf is dying, Alpha. I need Moonflower from the northern woods, but I'm too fragile to make the journey."

Kane's jaw tightened. He looked at me, and I saw the order forming before he spoke it.

"Claire will go." Not a question. A command. "I have border patrols to oversee, but you can handle gathering a flower. Consider it your contribution to the pack for once."

"Kane, it's my birthday—"

"And Morgan is dying." His eyes flashed. "Stop being selfish for one damn day."

Morgan pressed something into my hand—a roughly drawn map, the northern woods marked with an X. "Thank you, Luna," she whispered. "You're saving my life."

I looked down at the map, at the dense forest marked in the most dangerous part of our territory.

And I knew, with horrible certainty, that I was walking into another trap.

But Kane was already walking away, and the pack was watching, and I had no choice.

I had never had a choice.

The Moonflower didn't exist.

I realized it the moment I reached the coordinates on Morgan's map—a clearing so deep in rogue territory that even the birdsong had died. The forest pressed in around me, dark and watchful. My wolf whimpered weakly, her senses dulled by whatever poison had been slowly destroying us.

There was no flower. Just trees and shadows and the creeping certainty that I'd walked into exactly what Morgan wanted.

The first rogue hit me from behind.

I went down hard, my face slamming into dirt and dead leaves. Before I could scream, rough hands grabbed my arms, wrenching them behind my back. My broken ribs—still not fully healed—cracked again under the weight of a knee pressing into my spine.

"Don't kill her." The voice was gravel and smoke. "Just make it look good."

A fist connected with my temple. White light exploded across my vision. I tasted copper, felt warmth trickling down my face. Blood. My blood.

They were methodical about it. One held me down while another tore at my clothes—ripping fabric, exposing skin. Not to assault me, I realized dimly through the pain. To make it look like something else entirely. The third rogue circled us, and I heard the distinct click of a camera phone.

Photos. They were taking photos.

"No," I choked out, trying to struggle. "Please—"

Another blow, this time to my ribs. The world tilted sickeningly.

Through the haze of agony, I reached desperately for the mate bond. *Kane. Kane, please. I need help. I need you.*

For one beautiful second, I felt him there. His presence, solid and strong, just on the other side of our connection. Relief flooded through me so intensely I sobbed.

*Kane, please, rogues—they're hurting me—*

And then the bond slammed shut.

Not gradually. Not gently. Like a door slamming in my face, the mental connection severed so abruptly I felt it like a physical blow. He'd blocked me out. Deliberately. Completely.

The rogues finished their work. One of them spat near my head before they melted back into the forest, leaving me broken and bleeding in the dirt.

I don't know how long I lay there. Time moved strangely, measured only in waves of pain and the growing cold seeping into my bones. Eventually, I dragged myself upright. My torn dress hung off me in shreds. Blood matted my hair, sticky and warm.

The walk back took hours. Every step was agony. My wolf was silent, too damaged to even whimper anymore. I stumbled through the forest like a ghost, leaving a trail of blood drops on the leaves.

By the time I reached the pack house, the sun had set. I pushed through the front door and collapsed in the foyer, my legs finally giving out.

"Help," I whispered to the empty hall. "Someone... please..."

Footsteps thundered down the stairs. For one stupid, hopeful moment, I thought Kane had come to save me.

Instead, he stood at the top of the staircase, his face twisted with rage I'd never seen before. In his hand, he held a phone.

"You disgusting liar."

He descended the stairs slowly, each step deliberate. Photographs fluttered down around me like poisoned snow—images of me in the clearing, clothes torn, rogues' hands on my skin. The angles made it look intimate. Willing. Like I'd wanted it.

"Kane, no—" I tried to push myself up, but my arms wouldn't hold me. "It's not what it looks like. They attacked me. I tried to mind-link you—"

"You tried to interrupt me while Morgan was dying!" His voice boomed through the foyer. Pack members appeared in doorways, drawn by the commotion. "She collapsed the moment you left. I was holding her, trying to keep her conscious, and you were in my head whining about rogues. So I blocked you out to focus on someone who actually needed help."

"I needed help," I sobbed. "Kane, I was being attacked—"

"You staged an attack." He threw the phone at me. It skittered across the marble, stopping inches from my bloodied hand. "To stress Morgan out. To make me feel guilty for sending you on a simple errand. You probably paid those rogues to rough you up and take pictures so you could play victim."

"No. No, Kane, please—"

His Alpha aura slammed down on me like a physical weight. I felt my bones grinding against the marble floor, my broken ribs screaming. Around us, pack members bared their necks in submission, but his focus was entirely on me.

"You are pathetic," he said quietly, and somehow that was worse than his shouting. "You're so jealous of Morgan that you'd endanger yourself, endanger this pack, just to get my attention."

"I went to get the flower," I gasped out, each word agony under the crushing weight of his dominance. "For her. I went for her—"

"There was no flower." Morgan's weak voice drifted from the top of the stairs. She leaned heavily on the bannister, pale and trembling. "My wolf stabilized on her own. The Moon Goddess blessed me with a miracle recovery."

She looked down at me with perfect, pitying sadness.

"I'm so sorry, Luna. I never meant for you to go through such lengths to help me."

Kane's expression softened as he looked at her. When he turned back to me, there was nothing but contempt.

"Get out of my sight."

He stepped over my broken body and climbed the stairs to Morgan, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to support her.

I lay bleeding on the marble floor of my own pack house, surrounded by wolves who wouldn't meet my eyes, and watched my mate walk away.

Again.