The night wrapped around me like a shroud as I lay in the small guest room they'd relegated me to—no longer the Luna's chambers, not even my childhood bedroom. Just a spare room where unwanted relatives stayed. The irony wasn't lost on me.

A soft scratching sound at my window made me bolt upright. My body still felt wrong—weak, disconnected, like a puppet with cut strings.

"Madison," a voice whispered. "It's me. Open the window."

I froze, recognizing the voice despite having heard it only in childhood memories. "Aunt Elara?"

The scratching came again, more urgent. I crossed to the window and lifted the latch with trembling fingers.

My aunt's face appeared in the moonlight—older than I remembered, with silver streaking her dark hair, but her eyes held the same fierce intelligence they always had.

"Quickly," she said, slipping through the window with the grace of someone who'd made a career of stealth. "We don't have much time."

"Aunt Elara," I breathed, embracing her. She felt solid, real—the first genuine thing I'd encountered since waking. "They told us you were dead. That you'd gone rogue."

"Close enough," she said grimly, pulling back to study my face. "And I'm not the only one they lied about."

She produced a small vial from her pocket. The liquid inside glowed faintly blue.

"What is that?" I asked.

"The antidote to what they've been giving you." Her jaw tightened. "Nerve-blocking herbs. Forbidden in most packs. They've been keeping your wolf suppressed, Madison. Making you weak."

My hands shook as I took the vial. "My family did this to me?"

"Not just your family." Aunt Elara's eyes flashed with anger. "Drew too. He was eager enough to replace you with that Omega impostor once he realized you might not wake up."

The truth hit me like a physical blow. "They planned this."

"Sloane Hart isn't just some random Omega," Aunt Elara continued, her voice low and urgent. "She was selected for her resemblance to you. Groomed to take your place. And your family—" she spat the word like it tasted foul, "—they welcomed her. Helped her. While you lay helpless."

I uncorked the vial, the bitter scent making my nose wrinkle. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because I was you once," she said simply. "The Stewart Pack doesn't discard its own without consequences."

The liquid burned going down, like swallowing fire. Almost immediately, heat spread through my limbs, seeking out every nerve ending where the blocking herbs had lodged.

"It will hurt," Aunt Elara warned, gripping my shoulders as I doubled over. "Your wolf has been trapped for too long."

Pain exploded behind my eyes—sharp, electric jolts that made me gasp. And then, like a distant echo growing louder, I felt her.

*Madison.*

My wolf's voice, weak but unmistakable, filled my mind for the first time in three years.

*We're here. We're still here.*

"Kira," I whispered, my wolf's name falling from my lips like a prayer.

The connection was tenuous, like grasping at smoke, but real. Images flooded my mind—fragmented memories from the coma years. Drew sitting beside my bed, his hand holding Sloane's instead of mine. Sloane's voice, soft and triumphant, as she claimed my position. My family's faces, turned away from me even as I screamed silently for help.

My knees buckled. Aunt Elara caught me before I hit the floor.

"They'll know you're recovering," she warned. "The antidote will work quickly, but you need to be careful. They see you as a threat now."

"What do I do?" I gasped, fighting through the waves of pain and memory.

"First, you survive. Then you plan. And when you're ready—" she pressed a small packet into my hand, "—you contact me."

* * *

Three days later, I stood at the back of the pack meeting hall, watching as my family took their places at the head table. Sloane sat beside Drew, her hand possessively on his arm, my mother's Luna pendant gleaming at her throat.

I stepped forward. "I demand to be recognized."

Whispers rippled through the crowd. Faces turned toward me—some curious, others fearful, a few hostile.

"The rightful Luna has returned," I announced, my voice stronger than I expected. "I am Madison Stewart, daughter of Alpha Stewart, mate of—"

"Enough." Drew's voice cracked like a whip across the hall. "Madison Stewart is no longer recognized as Luna of this pack."

"I never released our mate bond," I countered, stepping closer.

Drew rose to his full height, his Alpha aura flaring. "By pack law, a mate bond can be voided if one party abandons their duties for more than two years."

"I was in a coma!" I shouted.

"You were absent," he corrected coldly. "And Sloane stepped in when the pack needed leadership."

Murmurs spread through the hall—that I'd been weak, that my coma was punishment for failure, that Sloane had saved the pack from collapse.

"Sloane is my mate now," Drew declared, his eyes flashing Alpha red. "And you, Madison, are nothing more than a relic of the past."

The words hit me like physical blows, but inside, Kira howled with rage.

*We are not nothing,* she snarled. *And they will regret underestimating us.*

The garden's tranquility mocked me as I paced between rose bushes, their sweet scent doing nothing to calm my frayed nerves. Three days had passed since the pack meeting, and my body still ached from the antidote's effects. But Kira grew stronger daily, her presence a warm ember in my chest where before there had been only cold emptiness.

"Enjoying the flowers?"

I whirled around. Sloane stood on the garden path, my mother's Luna pendant gleaming at her throat. In the daylight, the resemblance between us was uncanny—but her eyes held none of my warmth.

"What do you want?" I kept my voice steady despite Kira's growl.

Sloane's lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes. "I thought we should have a chat, sister."

The word 'sister' dripped with mockery. She glided closer, her movements fluid and practiced—too practiced.

"You know," she said, trailing her fingers over a bloom, "Drew and I have such passionate nights together. He says I satisfy him in ways you never could."

My fists clenched. "You're lying."

"Am I?" She turned, lifting her hair to reveal the mate mark on her neck—Drew's mark. Fresh. Possessive. "He bit me right here, just three months after you went into your little nap. Said he couldn't wait any longer."

Kira snarled, clawing at my insides. I fought to keep my expression neutral.

"He tells me everything," Sloane continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "How you were always too weak to handle his Alpha needs. How he'd fantasize about someone stronger while he was with you."

Each word was a dagger, precisely aimed. I refused to flinch.

"I've studied you for years, Madison." Sloane's mask slipped, revealing something cold and calculating beneath. "Your mannerisms. Your speech patterns. Even your pathetic little habits."

"You're insane."

"And you're obsolete." She stepped closer, her breath hot against my face. "Try to take back what's mine, and I'll make sure you're declared rogue. Exiled. Hunted."

*We are stronger than her,* Kira whispered. *We will survive this.*

---

"Again," Aunt Elara commanded, her voice echoing through the clearing.

I pushed myself up from the forest floor, muscles trembling. Dawn light filtered through the trees as I faced my aunt's attack.

"You're still too slow," she said, circling me. "A week ago, you couldn't even feel your wolf. Now you need to fight like one."

I lunged forward, shifting my weight as Kira guided me. My aunt dodged easily, but I managed to land a glancing blow to her shoulder.

"Better," she conceded. "But not good enough."

For two hours, we trained in secret—relearning the connection between woman and wolf that the herbs had severed. With each passing day, Kira grew stronger, our bond deeper.

"Someone's coming," Aunt Elara hissed suddenly.

We froze as voices approached—pack patrol, making their rounds earlier than usual.

"Quickly," my aunt whispered, pushing me toward a hollow log. "Pretend you're still weak."

I collapsed dramatically as the patrol emerged from the trees, my breathing labored, eyes glazed.

"Luna Madison?" One of the guards frowned. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just... needed air," I gasped, letting my limbs tremble. "The medicine makes me dizzy."

They exchanged glances but didn't question further. As they moved on, Aunt Elara emerged from her hiding place.

"They're watching you more closely," she warned. "We need to be careful."

"Or faster," I replied, standing straight despite my racing heart.

---

"The Portland Pack Alpha owes me a debt," Aunt Elara said later as we rested. "He'll grant you sanctuary when you're ready."

"Portland," I repeated, committing the name to memory.

---

Three days later, I stood before the packhouse, my heart pounding with determination.

"I demand to speak with Alpha Drew," I announced to the guards.

Word spread quickly. Pack members gathered as Drew emerged, Sloane at his side.

"What is this about, Madison?" he asked coldly.

"I challenge Sloane Hart's legitimacy as Luna," I declared, my voice carrying across the courtyard. "I demand my rightful place."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Sloane's face contorted with fury.

"You have no right," she hissed.

"I have every right," I countered. "I never released our mate bond, Drew."

Drew's jaw tightened. He stepped forward, his Alpha aura flaring.

"Then let me make it clear now."

The traditional words of rejection hung heavy in the air as he spoke them formally, ceremoniously:

"I, Drew Patterson, future Alpha of the Stewart Pack, reject you, Madison Stewart, as my mate..."

Pain exploded through me—physical, spiritual, soul-deep agony as our bond shattered. I fell to my knees, a scream tearing from my throat.

But beneath the pain, something else stirred.

Freedom.

As the bond broke completely, Kira howled in triumph.

*We are free now,* she whispered. *And they have no idea what we can do.*