The silver-laced incense burns my lungs with every breath I take, but I don't let myself scream. I won't. Not when Hope is doing this to help me, to fix whatever's broken inside me that makes Travis so violent, so uncontrollable.

"Just a little more, Gemma," Hope murmurs, her voice soft and soothing as she prepares another injection. The pack clinic's dim lighting casts shadows across her face, making her look almost ethereal. "This will stabilize your wolf. Damian will finally be able to mark you properly."

Eight years. Eight years of waiting for that mark, for the completion of our bond. Eight years of watching him pull away every time Travis surfaces, every time my wolf's dominance threatens the careful hierarchy of our pack.

The needle pierces my skin again, and this time I bite down hard on my lip, tasting copper. The herbal mixture feels like liquid fire racing through my veins, and somewhere deep inside, Travis snarls and thrashes against the cage I've built around him.

*Quiet,* I beg my wolf silently. *Please, just let this work.*

Hope's cool hand touches my forehead. "You're doing so well. Damian will be so proud of you."

That thought—Damian being proud—is what keeps me still as she continues the ritual. The ancient pack healing ceremony is supposed to be our last hope, the final solution to the problem that's been tearing us apart. If I can just suppress Travis enough, just become the mate Damian needs me to be...

When it's finally over, I can barely stand. My legs shake as I pull myself upright, and the room spins sickeningly.

"You should rest here," Hope suggests, already tidying up her supplies with practiced efficiency.

But I shake my head. I need to see Damian. Need to tell him it's done, that I've finally fixed myself for him. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Hope. For everything."

The walk back to the Alpha's pack house takes longer than it should. Every step feels like I'm dragging weights, and my skin still burns from the silver incense. But the thought of Damian's relief, maybe even his smile, pushes me forward.

I arrive earlier than expected—the ritual didn't take as long as Hope predicted. The grand hallway stretches before me, familiar and imposing with its dark wood panels and ancestral portraits. Home. Or at least, it's supposed to be.

Then I smell it.

Sweet. Floral. Intoxicating in a way that makes my chest constrict painfully. It's the scent of a fated mate, unmistakable and pure, twining intimately with Damian's heavy earthy musk. The combination is coming from his private study, the room he never lets anyone enter without permission.

My feet move without conscious thought, carrying me down the hallway even as my mind screams at me to turn back, to leave, to not look. But I can't stop. Travis, weakened as he is from the ritual, suddenly surges forward with a vicious snarl that echoes only in my head.

The study door is slightly ajar. Just enough.

I peer through the gap, and my entire world shatters.

Damian has Hope pressed against his desk, his face buried in the curve of her neck. She's tilting her head back, exposing her throat in complete submission, her fingers tangled in his hair. They're scent-marking each other with an intimacy I've never experienced, not once in eight years.

"Two years," Hope whispers, breathless and wanting. "Two years of hiding this. I can't stand it anymore, Damian."

Two years.

The words hit me like physical blows.

"I know," Damian growls against her skin, and the raw need in his voice—I've never heard him sound like that. Not with me. Never with me. "But Gemma's wolf is too unstable. I can't risk rejecting her outright until Travis is dealt with. She's convenient for now, keeps the pack from questioning why I haven't taken a marked mate."

Convenient.

Placeholder.

Unmarked because I was never meant to be marked.

Inside my mind, Travis explodes with a rage so pure and violent that I have to press my hand against the wall to stay upright. My wolf's fury crashes against the weakened barriers the ritual created, and for once, I don't fight him. I let that rage fill me, let it burn away the pathetic, desperate love I've been clinging to.

"The ritual will work," Hope says, and there's something cold in her voice now, something calculating. "She'll be so weak, so submissive. You can reject her cleanly then. No more violent outbursts from Travis to worry about."

She knew. She knew exactly what she was doing.

My best friend. My healer. My betrayer.

I step back from the door on silent feet, my heart pounding so hard I'm surprised they can't hear it. The silver burns in my veins, the ritual's poison still working to suppress everything wild and true inside me.

But Travis is done being suppressed. And so am I.

I don't remember making the decision to push the door open. One moment I'm frozen in the hallway, the next I'm standing in the doorway of Damian's study, and they're both staring at me like I'm a ghost.

Hope's face drains of color. She steps back from Damian, smoothing down her shirt with trembling hands.

But Damian—Damian doesn't look guilty. He looks annoyed.

"Gemma." My name comes out flat. Cold. "You shouldn't be here."

"Two years," I hear myself say. My voice sounds strange, distant. "You've been with her for two years."

Hope opens her mouth, but Damian raises his hand and she falls silent immediately. The obedience between them is so natural, so practiced. How many times have they done this? How many secret moments have they shared while I was desperately trying to fix myself for him?

"This doesn't concern you," Damian says, and his voice begins to shift. The air in the room grows heavy, oppressive. His Alpha aura unfurls like a dark wave, pressing down on my shoulders. "You need to leave. Now."

The command in his tone would have brought me to my knees a week ago. Would have had me apologizing, retreating, hating myself for daring to question him.

But something inside me has broken. The ritual, the betrayal, the years of suppressing Travis—it's all shattered something fundamental.

"No." The word leaves my lips before I can stop it.

Damian's eyes flash dangerous gold. "What did you say?"

"I said no." My hands are shaking but I don't back down. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to—"

"KNEEL." The Alpha command crashes over me like a physical blow, his voice resonating with power that makes the windows rattle.

My knees buckle. The force of his aura drives me down, and I catch myself on my hands, gasping. The silver from Hope's ritual burns hotter in my veins, weakening me further.

"You did this to yourself," Damian says, and he's walking toward me now, each step deliberate. "Your defective wolf. Your violence. Your inability to be the mate I needed. You pushed me into her arms, Gemma. This is your fault."

The words cut deeper than any physical wound.

"I sacrificed everything for you," he continues, and now there's heat in his voice. Anger. "My Alpha inheritance. My father's approval. I gave it all up to protect you from those rogues, and this is how you repay me? By questioning my choices?"

Inside my mind, Travis is screaming. Raging. Throwing himself against the barriers with such force that I can feel them cracking.

"I tried," I whisper, still on my knees, still pinned by his aura. "I tried so hard to be what you wanted."

"You failed." Damian's voice is merciless. "And now you'll accept this arrangement quietly, or I'll have you removed from the pack house entirely. Hope is my true mate. You're just—"

"Convenient," I finish for him, the word bitter on my tongue. "I heard."

Hope makes a small sound behind him, but I don't look at her. Can't look at her. If I do, I might actually lose control completely.

"Go back to your room," Damian orders. "We'll discuss this later. When you're calmer."

Calmer. As if I'm the one being unreasonable. As if I'm the problem.

I force myself to stand, even though his aura is still pressing down on me, even though every instinct screams to submit. My legs shake but I hold his gaze.

"You're right," I say quietly. "We'll discuss this later."

I turn and walk out, each step measured and controlled. I don't run. I don't cry. I don't give them the satisfaction.

But Travis—Travis is done waiting.

---

The pack gathering the next day is mandatory. Every wolf in the territory crowds into the main courtyard, the afternoon sun beating down on us as Damian addresses concerns about recent rogue activity near our borders.

I stand near the back, trying to be invisible. Trying to hold Travis down as he claws and snarls inside my mind, demanding blood, demanding justice.

Hope is at Damian's side, playing the role of concerned healer, her expression appropriately serious. No one knows. No one suspects.

The rage builds with every second I watch them together.

"—increased patrols," Damian is saying, his voice carrying across the crowd. "We won't tolerate any threats to our pack's safety."

That's when Travis breaks free.

The shift happens so fast I don't have time to fight it. One moment I'm human, the next Travis surges forward, seizing control with a violence that makes several nearby wolves stumble back in shock.

My vision sharpens. Predatory. My eyes must be glowing because I can see the fear rippling through the crowd.

"LIAR." The word rips from my throat in a voice that's mine and not mine, carrying Travis's fury. The sound echoes across the courtyard, silencing everyone.

Damian's head snaps toward me, his expression darkening. "Gemma, stand down."

"You talk about protecting the pack," Travis snarls through my lips, and I'm walking forward now, the crowd parting before me. "But you can't even be honest with your own mate. What kind of Alpha are you?"

Gasps ripple through the gathered wolves. No one challenges an Alpha like this. No one.

Damian's aura explodes outward, his Alpha command rolling over the courtyard. "I said STAND DOWN."

But Travis doesn't kneel. Doesn't submit. Instead, my wolf meets that command with his own raw power, and I feel it surge through me—wild, untamed, refusing to be suppressed anymore.

The two forces collide in the space between us, and Damian actually takes a step back, his eyes widening in shock.

Then Hope is moving.

She rushes forward, her healer's bag already open. "She's gone feral!" she screams at the panicked crowd. "Everyone get back! She's dangerous!"

I'm so focused on Damian, on Travis's challenge, that I don't see her coming from my blind spot.

The needle plunges into my neck.

Liquid silver floods my system, and Travis's roar of fury is the last thing I hear before the world goes dark.

The world comes back in fragments.

First, there's pain—sharp and burning, like my veins are filled with molten silver. Then there's the smell of my own sweat-soaked sheets. The moonlight streaming through my window tells me hours have passed since Hope's needle found my neck.

Travis is buried deep, so deep I can barely feel him. Just a faint pulse of rage somewhere in the darkness of my mind, weakened but not gone.

I should stay in bed. Should let the silver work its way out of my system. Should be the good, obedient mate who accepts her place.

But Damian's scent is fading from the pack house.

I force myself upright, my arms shaking with the effort. The fever makes everything blur at the edges, but I can still track that scent—earthy musk mixed with pine, leading away from our territory. Leading toward the Beta's lands.

Toward Hope's family estate.

The walk takes forever. Every step sends fire through my muscles, and twice I have to stop and lean against trees, gasping. The silver sedative clings to my system like poison, making my wolf retreat further with each labored breath.

But I keep moving.

The Beta's estate rises against the night sky, all elegant stone and manicured gardens. I've been here before, back when Hope and I were actually friends. Back when I was stupid enough to believe her concern was real.

Damian's scent grows stronger as I approach, twining with Hope's in that sickeningly intimate way. I stay in the tree line, using the shadows to hide my weakened form.

Then I see them.

The balcony overlooks the gardens, and they're standing there like some perfect portrait of mates—Damian's arm around Hope's waist, her head resting on his shoulder. The sight makes my stomach twist, but I force myself to stay still. To listen.

"—all dead now," Damian is saying, his voice carrying clearly in the night air. "Victor Stone was the last one. Travis tore him apart three months ago."

Hope laughs, the sound light and pleased. "Your little enforcer did her job well. All your rivals eliminated, and no one suspects the Alpha's mate's wolf was doing the dirty work."

"She was useful," Damian agrees, and the casual dismissal in his tone makes Travis stir weakly in the back of my mind. "But now that the threats are gone, we don't need her violence anymore. Travis is too unpredictable. Too dangerous."

"So we move forward with the plan?" Hope's voice takes on an eager edge. "You reject her officially, claim me as Luna?"

"Soon." Damian's hand moves to Hope's hair, stroking it gently. "We need to be careful. If Travis breaks free during the rejection, he could kill half the pack before we put him down."

Put him down.

Like an animal.

Like something disposable.

"The ritual weakened her," Hope says, and there's pride in her voice. Pride in what she's done to me. "A few more treatments and Travis will be too suppressed to fight back. Then you can reject her cleanly, and we can finally stop hiding."

The silver burns hotter in my veins, but it's nothing compared to the rage building in my chest. All those times Travis eliminated threats to Damian's power. All those violent episodes I hated myself for. We were being used. Weaponized. And the moment we were no longer useful—

I step out of the shadows.

My legs barely hold me, and I have to grip the garden gate to stay upright, but I don't care. I need them to see me. Need them to know I heard everything.

"Gemma." Damian's voice is sharp with surprise, but he doesn't let go of Hope. Doesn't even pretend to be ashamed. "You should be resting."

"Tell me the truth." My voice comes out rough, raw. "What happens to me after you reject me? What's the plan?"

Hope's eyes gleam in the moonlight, and something shifts in her expression. Something calculating and cruel.

She pulls away from Damian and walks to the balcony railing, looking down at me with a smile that makes my skin crawl. "You really want to know?"

"Hope," Damian warns, but she ignores him.

"The truth is, Gemma," she continues, her voice sweet as poison, "Damian can't stand to touch you. Every time he looks at you, he sees that defective, violent wolf. You repulse him. You always have."

She descends the balcony steps, moving closer. Too close.

"He only kept you around because Travis was useful. A weapon he could point at his enemies." Another step. "But now? Now you're just broken. Pathetic. A liability."

Inside my mind, Travis stirs. The silver should keep him down, should keep him buried, but Hope's words are like gasoline on embers.

"You were never meant to be Luna," Hope whispers, now just feet away from me. "You were never meant to be anything but a tool. And once a tool breaks—"

Travis surges forward with a snarl that rips from my throat, and Hope's smile widens.

She wanted this.

She wanted me to lose control.

And I just gave her exactly what she needed.