The mountain air bit into my skin as Michael's SUV came to an abrupt halt. I hadn't been told where we were going, but as the familiar silhouette of Mount Rainier loomed against the twilight sky, my heart plummeted. Not here. Anywhere but here.

"Get out," Michael commanded, his voice devoid of the tenderness it once held when we'd visited this sacred place together.

Lyra whimpered inside me. *Our mating grounds. Why would he bring us here?*

I couldn't answer her. My wolf was growing weaker by the day, our connection fraying like an old rope stretched beyond its limits.

Michael yanked me from the vehicle, his grip brutal on my arm. The pack warriors who had accompanied us formed a loose circle as he dragged me toward the ancient stone altar where, just two years ago, we had pledged ourselves to each other under the watchful eye of the Moon Goddess.

"Kneel," he ordered, using his Alpha tone.

My body responded automatically, my knees hitting the cold, hard ground. Above us, the moon hung full and luminous, bearing silent witness to this desecration.

"This is where it began," Michael said, addressing his warriors rather than me. "And this is where we cleanse our pack of her betrayal."

He stepped back, nodding to the warriors. "Begin."

The first knife whistled past my ear, close enough that I felt the air displace. The second grazed my shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood. I kept my eyes fixed on the moon, refusing to flinch or cry out.

"Your aim is pathetic," Michael snarled at his men. "She's right there. Make her feel it."

Another knife sliced across my upper arm. Then another caught the edge of my already scarred hand—the hand that still bore the marks from saving his father. The irony wasn't lost on me.

A dark shadow swooped down, and I felt the sharp pain as a raven's beak tore at the exposed scar tissue on my neck. More followed, drawn by the scent of blood, their black wings beating around me in a macabre dance.

"The ravens know a corpse when they see one," Michael said coldly. "Even if it's still breathing."

I remained silent, letting the pain wash over me. Physical torment was nothing compared to the agony of the broken mate bond that throbbed constantly in my chest.

*We endure,* Lyra whispered, her voice fainter than ever. *For the truth. For his bloodline.*

For the secret I would take to my grave.

---

The main hall of the pack house had been transformed for the evening's ceremony. Where once I had stood as Luna, tonight I knelt as an outcast, my head bowed as Michael approached with the Omega collar.

"No longer Luna, you are now the lowest rank," he proclaimed, his voice echoing through the hushed space. The leather collar felt rough against my skin as he fastened it tightly—too tightly—around my neck.

Amanda glided forward, resplendent in my former Luna gown, the silver fabric flowing around her pregnant form. My Luna pendant gleamed at her throat, catching the light with every movement. Her smile was radiant with triumph as she took her place beside Michael.

"Doesn't she make a pathetic sight?" Amanda's voice carried just enough for the front rows to hear. "Hard to believe she once thought herself worthy of standing where I do."

Michael's hand found hers, their fingers intertwining in a deliberate display. "The Moon Goddess corrects all mistakes," he replied. "And provides true mates to those worthy of them."

The words cut deeper than any knife.

---

My hands trembled as I lifted the heavy cast-iron pot from the stove. The kitchen was sweltering, the steam rising from multiple pots making it difficult to see. My scarred hands, still raw from the knife wounds and the glass I'd been forced to pick up with my bare fingers yesterday, struggled to maintain their grip.

"Hurry up with that stew, omega," the head cook barked. "The Alpha's table doesn't wait."

I bit my lip and nodded, carrying the pot toward the dining hall. Each step sent jolts of pain through my injured body, but I forced myself forward. Three steps into the dining hall, I felt Amanda's eyes on me, her lips curled in a satisfied smirk.

"Our former Luna makes an excellent servant," she commented loudly as I set the pot down on the sideboard. "Don't you think so, Michael?"

Michael didn't look at me, his attention fixed on the documents before him. "As long as she knows her place."

Eleanor Sterling, Michael's mother, sat rigidly at his other side. Her cold eyes swept over me with undisguised contempt.

"A true Luna would have saved the Alpha first," she said pointedly. "Not some common warrior."

My hands jerked at her words, and the serving plate I was reaching for slipped from my grasp, shattering on the floor with a crash that seemed to echo through the suddenly silent room.

Michael's head snapped up, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Clean it up," he ordered. "With your hands."

I knelt among the shards, feeling them bite into my palms as I gathered the broken pieces. Blood mingled with the porcelain fragments, and I wondered how much more I could possibly bleed before there was nothing left of me at all.

Through the haze of pain, I caught Amanda's whisper to Michael: "I've heard that a Luna's death can sometimes trigger the early birth of an Alpha heir. Perhaps the Moon Goddess is preparing us for a joyous arrival."

I looked up just in time to see Michael's eyes flicker to my face—and for the first time in months, I saw something there besides hatred. Something that looked almost like fear.

The knock on my door was so faint I almost didn't hear it through the haze of pain that had become my constant companion. Lena, our pack healer, stood in the doorway, her face drawn with exhaustion and something else—grief, fresh and raw.

"May I come in?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, struggling to sit upright on the thin mattress that had replaced my once-luxurious bed. My scarred hands trembled with the effort, the wounds from yesterday's broken glass still weeping.

"It's Ryan," Lena said, taking a hesitant step into my sparse room. "He... he didn't make it. The internal injuries were too severe."

The news hit me like a physical blow. Lyra whimpered inside me, her voice now so faint I strained to hear her. *The poor boy. He deserved better than this.*

"When?" I managed to ask.

"Just before dawn." Lena's eyes darted nervously to the door. "I shouldn't be here, but I thought you deserved to know. He spoke of you, at the end."

My throat tightened. Ryan Thompson—the pack warrior whose rescue had cost me everything. Michael's half-brother, though almost no one knew the truth. The former Alpha's secret shame, hidden in plain sight.

"What happens to his body?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

"Nothing yet. The Alpha... he hasn't given instructions."

I closed my eyes, gathering what little strength remained in my broken body. "Thank you, Lena."

She hesitated at the door. "Victoria, your wolf... she's fading faster than I predicted. The strain of the rejection, combined with your injuries—"

"I know," I cut her off gently. "We both know."

After she left, I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of my window, watching the pack members go about their day, oblivious to the loss of a brave warrior—a prince in all but name.

---

I found Michael in his study, hunched over territory maps, his powerful frame tense with concentration. He didn't look up when I entered, though I knew he sensed my presence. The bond might be severed, but some awareness lingered between us, a cruel reminder of what we had lost.

"Alpha," I addressed him formally, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "I've come to request a proper warrior's burial for Ryan Thompson."

Michael's head snapped up, his amber eyes flashing with sudden rage. "You dare?"

I stood my ground, though my legs threatened to give way beneath me. "He died defending our pack. He deserves the honor of a warrior's ceremony."

"Defending our pack?" Michael rose slowly, his aura expanding until it pressed against me like a physical force. "Or defending you?"

"He was a loyal pack member," I insisted, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my insides. "His service deserves recognition."

Michael circled his desk, moving toward me with predatory grace. "You still don't understand, do you? You come here, wearing that pathetic Omega collar, to plead for the man you chose over my father?"

"That's not what happened," I whispered, the familiar denial falling on deaf ears as it had countless times before.

"He was nothing to me," Michael snarled, his face inches from mine. "He dies unremembered."

The cruelty of his words struck deeper than any physical blow. If only he knew the truth—that the man he was condemning to an unmarked grave shared his blood.

"Michael, please—"

"He was nothing to me," he repeated, louder this time. "And soon, you will be nothing too."

He stormed past me, the force of his movement nearly knocking me off my feet. The door slammed behind him, leaving me alone with the weight of a secret that grew heavier by the day.

---

Night had fallen by the time I heard the news. Two young Delta wolves were whispering in the kitchen as I scrubbed pots with my raw, bleeding hands.

"The Alpha ordered Thompson's body dumped in the eastern forest," one murmured. "Said the rogues could have what's left of him."

"Harsh," the other replied. "He was a good fighter."

"Doesn't matter. Alpha's orders."

I dropped the pot I was holding, ignoring their startled looks as I fled the kitchen. My room was on the ground floor now—a small mercy that allowed me to slip out the window once darkness fell completely.

The forest was alive with night sounds as I dragged myself toward the eastern border, each step sending waves of agony through my weakened body. Lyra, normally my strength, was eerily silent, conserving what little energy she had left.

I found him at the edge of our territory, his body carelessly abandoned like refuse. The moonlight illuminated his face, peaceful in death despite the disrespect shown to his remains. I fell to my knees beside him, tears streaming down my face.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, gathering stones to place around his body in the ancient warrior's pattern. "I'm so sorry."

With trembling hands, I placed the ceremonial warrior's stone over his heart—a small token I had carried with me, knowing this moment might come. Blood from my reopened wounds dripped onto his cold chest as I arranged his arms in the traditional pose of a fallen fighter.

"May the Moon Goddess guide your spirit, brother," I murmured, completing the simple rite. "May she welcome you home."

As I spoke the words, a gentle breeze stirred the leaves around us, almost like a response. For a moment, I imagined I could feel Lyra stirring within me, offering her own farewell to the fallen warrior.

---

Three days later, I slipped away during the changing of the guard patrols. My meeting with Elias had been arranged through Lena—a dangerous risk for both of them, but one they were willing to take.

The former Beta waited at the territory border, his weathered face lined with concern as I approached. He had served Michael's father faithfully for decades, one of the few who knew the full truth about Ryan's parentage.

"Luna," he greeted me, using my former title as an act of defiance.

"Not anymore," I reminded him gently.

His eyes filled with sorrow as he took in my appearance—the Omega collar, the fresh bruises, my emaciated frame. "This has gone too far. You need to tell him the truth about Ryan."

I shook my head. "I can't."

"Victoria, he's killing you. Your wolf is fading. If he knew that Ryan was his half-brother—"

"Then what?" I interrupted. "The former Alpha's reputation would be destroyed. The Sterling bloodline tainted in the eyes of the pack. Everything Michael has ever believed about his father would crumble."

"Better that than this," Elias insisted, gesturing to my broken body.

"I swore to protect the Sterling line's honor," I said firmly. "I made that promise to his father as he lay dying in my arms."

Elias stepped forward, pulling me into a gentle embrace. "Your loyalty will be your death."

"Perhaps," I whispered against his shoulder. "But I will die with my promise intact."

Neither of us noticed the small click of a camera from the shadows, or the triumphant smile that spread across Amanda's face as she captured our embrace in the fading light.