Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely work the clasp of the necklace.

Ten minutes.

She stared at herself in the mirror. The girl looking back was pale, her eyes wide with a frantic energy. The ruby sat against her skin, heavy and warm. It looked like a fresh wound.

"It's your talisman, Debra," her mother had whispered, her skin gray against the hospital sheets. "Never take it off. It connects you to who you really are."

Who was she? She was the daughter of a weak Alpha and the stepdaughter of a monster.

A frantic knocking on the door made her jump. She stifled a scream.

"Debra! It's me! Vicky!"

Debra unlocked the door instantly. Vicky practically fell into the room, locking it behind her. The maid was panting, her face flushed.

"Are you okay?" Debra asked, grabbing Vicky's arms.

She saw it then. A red, angry welt rising on the back of Vicky's hand.

"He... he kicked me," Vicky stammered, seeing Debra's gaze. She pulled her hand away. "It doesn't matter. Colin is an idiot. But Marley isn't. She's serious, Debra. I heard her on the phone with the bank. She needs liquid assets by Monday morning or they foreclose on the River-Run estates."

"I know." Debra went to the sink, wetting a towel with cold water. She tried to press it to Vicky's hand, but Vicky pushed it away.

"Listen to me," Vicky said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You have to go. Now. While everyone is watching the groom enter."

"Go where?" Debra asked. "I have no money. My cards are linked to the family account."

"The service tunnels," Vicky said rapidly. "Take the laundry chute to the basement. I left the back gate unlatched. You can get to town, hide at a motel."

"And leave you here?" Debra shook her head. "If I disappear, Marley will tear this house apart. She'll blame you. I saw how she looked at you."

"I can handle Marley," Vicky lied. Her eyes were terrified.

"No." Debra stood up straighter. A cold resolve settled in her stomach, replacing the nausea. "If I run, I prove them right. I prove I'm weak. This is my house. My mother built this wing."

"Debra, pride won't save you," Vicky pleaded.

"It's not pride. It's all I have left." Debra turned back to the mirror. She splashed cold water on her face, watching the droplets run down like tears she refused to shed. "I'm not giving her the necklace. I'm going to tell her to go to hell."

"Oh, Debra..."

The heavy thud of boots outside the door silenced them.

"Miss Vance," a deep voice boomed. "The Luna requests your presence."

It wasn't a request.

Debra dried her face. She looked at Vicky. "Stay here."

"No way," Vicky said, smoothing her apron. "I go where you go."

Debra opened the door. Two guards stood there, massive and impassive. They didn't gesture; they just turned and walked, expecting her to follow.

The walk to the bridal suite felt like a funeral procession. The hallway was lined with portraits of Vance ancestors. They seemed to glare at Debra, judging her for letting their legacy crumble.

The bridal suite was a cavern of ivory silk and white roses. Marley sat on a velvet chaise lounge, sipping red wine. The contrast of the dark liquid against the white dress was jarring.

She waved a hand. The makeup artists and stylists scurried out like frightened mice.

Only the guards remained. And Colin.

Colin was leaning against the window sill, smoking a cigarette inside, blowing smoke onto the sheer curtains. He grinned when Debra entered.

"Time's up," Marley said. She set the wine glass down on a glass table. "Give it to me."

Debra stopped in the center of the room. She kept her hands at her sides. "No."

Marley sighed, a sound of exaggerated disappointment. "I really hoped we could do this the civilized way. You know, the way where you realize your position and accept it."

"My position is the daughter of this house," Debra said. "That necklace is from my mother's dowry. It is not Vance property. It is mine."

"Your mother," Marley chuckled. "The woman who couldn't even keep her husband interested? The woman who died leaving the pack weak and vulnerable?"

"Don't you dare talk about her," Debra stepped forward, her hands curling into fists.

"I am the Luna now!" Marley stood up, her voice cracking like a whip. "I control the assets. I control the image. And I will not have a brat holding onto three million dollars in raw gemstone while my family drowns in debt! Do you think this wedding paid for itself?"

Debra blinked. So that was it. Not just cruelty, but bankruptcy.

"Grab her," Marley commanded.

The guards moved instantly.

"No!" Vicky screamed. She threw herself in front of Debra, her small frame a pathetic barrier against the trained enforcers. "You can't touch her! Alpha Edward-"

"Edward is currently admiring the curtains in the reception hall, completely out of his mind on 'supplements'," Colin laughed, pushing off the window sill. "He won't be back for twenty minutes. Plenty of time."

One guard reached out, his hand encompassing Vicky's entire shoulder.

"Leave her alone!" Debra lunged, but the second guard caught her arm, twisting it behind her back with practiced efficiency. Pain shot up to her shoulder.

"Get the help out of here," Marley said, bored.

The guard holding Vicky didn't escort her out. He shoved her. Hard.

---

"Vicky!" Debra screamed.

Vicky slid to the floor, her eyes rolling back. A dark, sluggish line of blood began to trickle from her hairline, staining the white collar of her uniform crimson.

The room seemed to tilt. The red of the blood was too bright, too real against the pristine white of the bridal suite.

"Messy," Marley said, wrinkling her nose. She didn't look at Vicky with concern, only annoyance. "Get a rug over that before the photographer comes in."

Debra struggled, her wolf stirring deep within her, a primal growl vibrating in her chest. Her eyes flashed a momentary gold. "I will kill you," she snarled at Marley.

"Cute," Colin said. He walked over to Debra, who was pinned by the guard. He stood close, too close. He smelled of stale smoke and expensive scotch. "Let's see the goods."

He reached out. His fingers were cold and clammy as they brushed against Debra's collarbone. She flinched, revulsion warring with the pain in her twisted arm.

"Don't touch me," she spat.

Colin ignored her. He hooked a finger under the gold chain. "Nice rock."

He didn't unclasp it. He yanked.

The gold bit into the back of Debra's neck, burning like a brand, before the links snapped. The sudden release made her stumble forward, but the guard held her upright.

Colin held the necklace up to the light, swinging it back and forth. The ruby spun, casting red reflections on his face. "Solid. Old cut. This is worth a fortune, sis."

"Give it back!" Debra's voice was raw, tearing at her throat.

"Let me see," Marley said. She held out her hand. "Careful, you idiot. Don't drop it."

Colin dropped the necklace into her palm. Marley inspected it, turning it over. Her eyes gleamed with avarice. "The clasp is broken. And look at this chain. It's twisted. But the stone... we can have it reset. Or better yet, sold loose to the private market in Singapore."

"It's mine!" Debra surged forward, breaking the guard's grip with a burst of hysterical strength. She lunged for Marley's hand.

"Get off me!" Marley shrieked, trying to shove Debra away while clutching the prize.

In the chaotic struggle, Marley's fingernails raked Debra's arm, and her grip on the necklace slipped.

The ruby flew from her hand.

Time seemed to slow. Marley gasped, reaching out, her face a mask of horror-not for the heirloom, but for the money slipping through her fingers.

The necklace hit the marble hearth with a sickening, high-pitched crack.

It wasn't just a chip. The impact was catastrophic. The ancient gold setting crumpled, and the large ruby, hit at its precise stress point against the unyielding stone, shattered.

It exploded into three large, jagged fragments and a spray of red dust.

Silence. Absolute, ringing silence.

"No!" Marley screamed, falling to her knees. She stared at the wreckage of her financial salvation. "You stupid girl! You clumsy, worthless little wretch! Do you know what you've done? You just destroyed millions!"

Debra stared at the fragments. That was her mother. That was the last time she held her hand. That was the promise of protection. Gone. Just red dust on a cold floor.

Marley scrambled for the pieces, her hands shaking with rage. "Pick it up! All of it! Maybe the jeweler can salvage something!"

But Debra moved faster. Driven by grief rather than greed, she threw herself onto the hearth.

"It's not yours!" Debra sobbed.

She scooped up the shards, heedless of the sharp edges slicing into her fingertips. She didn't feel it. She saw her own blood mix with the red dust of the stone, blending together. She grabbed the largest piece-the central facet where the crest was etched on the back-and clutched it to her chest.

"Get her!" Marley shrieked. "Get the stones back!"

A groan from the corner broke through Debra's trance. Vicky.

Debra's head snapped up. The rage that filled her wasn't hot; it was cold. Absolute zero. She looked at Marley, memorizing every line of her face, every inch of her panicked, greedy smile.

"It's ruined anyway," Colin sneered, looking at the dust. "Let her have the trash. We can claim insurance if we say she stole it."

Marley paused, her eyes narrowing. A new plan formed. "Yes. Theft. Grand Larceny. That pays better than a fence."

"We have a wedding to attend," Marley said, checking her reflection in the mirror one last time. "Clean this up. And get that bleeding girl out of my sight."

Marley swept out of the room. Colin lingered for a second. He looked at the shattered ruby on the floor, a flicker of genuine irritation crossing his face.

"Waste of money," he muttered. He pulled out his phone, typing a quick message as he followed his sister.

The door clicked shut.

Debra was left on her knees, bleeding, surrounded by the wreckage of her past.

---

Vicky blinked, her eyes unfocused. She groaned, trying to push herself up. "Debra... run."

"I'm not leaving you."

"You have to." Vicky's hand, sticky with blood, grabbed Debra's wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "Listen. My pocket. The keys."

Debra frowned, reaching into Vicky's apron pocket. Her fingers closed around cold metal. A car key. An old Ford logo worn smooth on the fob.

"The truck," Vicky whispered, wincing. "Behind the old greenhouse. Under the tarp. The Protocol... is active."

Debra stared at the key. "Protocol? What are you talking about?"

"Your mother's extraction plan," Vicky wheezed. "She knew one day... the Vances would turn. Go. Now. Before they come back to frame you."

"I can't leave you bleeding on the floor!"

"I'm fine. Just a headache." Vicky pushed her. "If you stay, they win. They'll lock you in your room, or worse. Colin... he has plans. I heard them talking."

Debra looked at the key, then at the door. Then at the bloody shards in her hand.

If she stayed, she died. Maybe not physically, but the Debra who was her mother's daughter would cease to exist. She would become Marley's pet.

"I'll come back for you," Debra vowed. She leaned down and kissed Vicky's bloody cheek. "I swear on my life."

"Just go," Vicky breathed, closing her eyes.

Debra stood up. She ran back to the fireplace. She scooped up the remaining larger shards of the ruby, wrapping them in a monogrammed handkerchief she found on the table. She shoved the bundle into her bra.

She kicked off her high heels. Barefoot, she sprinted to the service door.

The hallway was empty. The music from the ballroom drifted up, a cheerful melody that mocked her. Here Comes the Bride.

She didn't take the stairs. She took the laundry chute, sliding down into the darkness of the basement, landing in a pile of dirty linens. The smell of detergent and dampness grounded her.

She navigated the basement tunnels by memory. She used to play hide-and-seek here. Now, she was hiding for her life.

She burst out of the side door near the kitchens. The night air hit her like a slap. Heavy clouds obscured the moon, and the smell of rain was thick. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

She ran through the manicured gardens, the wet grass slick under her bare feet. She reached the old greenhouse, a rotting structure of glass and wood that Marley deemed too expensive to demolish yet.

There, under a heavy canvas tarp, was the truck. A rusted, blue Ford F-150. It looked like a beast compared to the sleek limousines parked in the front drive.

Debra tore the tarp off. She jammed the key into the lock. It stuck for a second, then turned.

She climbed in. The interior smelled of dust and her mother's old vanilla car air freshener.

She turned the ignition.

Chug. Chug. Whirrr.

"Come on," Debra pleaded. "Please."

ROAR.

The engine caught, coughing black smoke but alive.

Debra threw it into gear. She didn't take the driveway. She drove straight over the flowerbeds, crushing Marley's prize-winning hydrangeas.

She aimed for the service gate. A guard-one of the old ones, a man named Henderson-stepped out of the booth, waving his arms.

"Miss Debra?" he shouted, squinting into the headlights.

Debra didn't stop. She couldn't. She slammed on the gas.

The truck hit the wooden arm of the gate. Wood splintered. Henderson jumped back just in time.

She was out.

The tires shrieked as she hit the asphalt of the main road. She watched the rearview mirror. The lights of the estate-the castle on the hill-grew smaller and smaller.

Only when the house was a speck of light did Debra let out a sob. It started in her chest and ripped its way out, a guttural sound of pure grief. She cried for her mother. She cried for Vicky. She cried for the necklace.

She drove blindly for twenty minutes, the tears blurring her vision.

Where could she go? She had no cash. No credit. No friends who weren't loyal to her father.

Then she saw the sign, flickering in pink and blue neon against the dark sky.

The Neon Moon.

It was a dive bar on the edge of the territory. A place for bikers, rogues, and people who didn't want to be found. Her father called it a "den of iniquity."

"Perfect," Debra whispered.

She pulled the truck into the gravel lot. It was filled with Harleys and muscle cars. She looked at herself in the mirror.

Mascara ran down her cheeks. Her hair was a rat's nest. Her dress was torn at the hem and stained with basement dust.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing the black makeup further. She looked crazy. Or... she looked like a girl who had partied too hard. That was a better disguise.

She reached down and ripped the lace sleeves off her dress. She messed up her hair intentionally, making it look like a style choice rather than a result of flight.

"Just for tonight," she told her reflection. "Tonight, you aren't the Alpha's daughter. You're just a girl surviving."

Inside the estate, on the balcony, Colin River-Run lowered his phone. He had watched the blue truck tear out of the gate.

He dialed a number.

"She's out," Colin said, smiling. "Heading toward town. No guards. She's all yours. Make it look like a scandal."

---