Viya's POV

I adjusted my hair one last time in the silver-framed mirror of our penthouse bathroom.

The woman staring back at me looked softer than I felt. My loose black waves fell over my shoulders, my makeup was delicate, and the crimson dress beneath my black cashmere coat made my skin seem even paler. It was bolder than anything I usually wore. Not vulgar. Not desperate. Just brave enough to say what I had been too afraid to say for three years.

Tonight was our third wedding anniversary.

Three years of being Luna Wilde. Three years of sleeping beside Lucius without ever receiving his mark. Three years of pretending the distance between us was patience instead of rejection.

Serena, my wolf, stirred weakly in my mind. "You look beautiful."

"Do you think he'll notice?" I whispered.

She was silent for a second too long.

I smiled at my reflection anyway. "He has to notice eventually."

Even the coldest Alpha could soften, couldn't he? Even a marriage that began for politics could grow into something real.

At least, that was what I told myself as I drove to the private club where Lucius had gathered with several ranked members of the Wilde Pack. I had prepared his anniversary gift. I had planned a quiet dinner after the meeting. I had imagined, foolishly, that tonight he might look at me not as a suitable Luna, not as a useful alliance, but as his wife.

The hostess recognized me the moment I entered.

"Luna Viya," she said with a respectful bow. "Alpha Wilde is in the Moonstone Room."

"Thank you."

My smile was calm. My hands were not.

As I approached the private room, I heard Lucius's voice through the half-open door.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep pretending."

I stopped.

His tone was raw, intimate, filled with a tenderness I had begged the Goddess to hear from him even once.

A woman answered with a soft laugh. "Then stop pretending."

My blood turned cold.

Lucius exhaled heavily. "Every night I go back to her, I feel like I'm betraying myself."

Her. Me.

My fingers curled around the edge of the wall.

"Lucius," the woman murmured, "you're married."

"I never loved Viya."

The words did not explode. They sank. Quietly. Deeply. Like a silver blade pushed between my ribs.

"She is your fated mate," the woman said, though her voice sounded too pleased to be truly concerned.

"There is no bond," Lucius said coldly. "There never was. She was convenient. A respected wolf doctor. Obedient. Well-connected. The Wilde Pack needed stability, and marrying her gave me exactly that."

Serena whimpered inside me.

I pressed a hand over my mouth.

Convenient.

That was what I had been. Not wife. Not mate. Not Luna in his heart. Just a solution to a political problem.

The woman sighed. "And when will you divorce her?"

"Soon." Lucius's voice lowered. "The herbs are working. In a few more months, her wolf will be too weak to carry pups. Once the pack doctor confirms she cannot provide heirs, I'll have legal grounds to end the marriage."

For one terrifying moment, the hallway disappeared.

The tea.

The special tea he personally prepared every evening. The one he said would strengthen Serena. The one I drank because I trusted him.

"You're sure she won't suspect?" the woman asked.

Lucius gave a low, dismissive laugh. "Viya? She is too eager to please me. Too grateful for scraps. She would drink poison from my hand if I told her it was medicine."

My nails dug into my palm until pain cleared my head.

The woman whispered, "You are still too kind to her."

"I'm not cruel," Lucius replied. "When this is over, I'll compensate her. She has been dutiful."

Dutiful.

I almost laughed.

He was stealing my health, my future, my chance at motherhood, and still wanted to believe he was honorable because he planned to pay me afterward.

Then the woman asked, "Have you thought about names? For our baby?"

"Our baby?" Lucius sounded stunned. "I thought the child was Alexander's."

Alexander.

His dead brother.

The world narrowed to one name.

Miranda.

My sister-in-law. The grieving widow I had comforted. The woman I had brought soup to after the funeral. The woman whose hand I had held while she cried into my shoulder.

A bitter calm settled over me.

So that was why Lucius had never truly seen me. His heart had not been empty. It had been occupied by his brother's widow.

Serena snarled weakly. *Record it.*

My shaking fingers found my phone. I opened the recorder and let the truth continue to spill from the room.

Miranda's voice turned sweet again. "If Viya refuses the divorce?"

"She won't." Lucius sounded certain. "She avoids conflict. She will cry quietly, sign whatever I put in front of her, and thank me for not abandoning her with nothing."

Something inside me snapped cleanly in half.

No.

I would not cry quietly. I would not thank him. And I would not let either of them decide how my story ended.

I stopped the recording, forwarded it to Sophia, my closest friend and the sharpest divorce attorney in the werewolf community, and typed only one line.

[I need you. Divorce papers. Now.]

Her reply came almost immediately.

[FINALLY! On my way. Meet me at Moonlight Bar in 30.]

I looked once more at the half-open door.

Inside, my husband was planning my ruin with the woman he loved.

Outside, I straightened my coat, lifted my chin, and walked away.

For the first time in three years, I did not feel like Alpha Lucius Wilde's neglected Luna.

I felt like his biggest mistake.

Viya's POV

Sophia arrived at Moonlight Bar like a storm wearing red lipstick and designer heels.

She spotted me in the corner booth, took one look at the whiskey in my hand, and slid into the seat across from me without asking.

She pulled out her tablet, already tapping away with manicured nails. "I've been drafting your divorce papers since your wedding day. Call it professional intuition."

Despite everything, I managed a weak laugh. "Was I the only one who didn't see this coming?"

"Honey, you wanted to believe in the fairytale," she said, her voice softening momentarily before returning to business mode.

"I've already listened to that recording. The pack council won't be able to ignore this-not only is he cheating, but he's been deliberately poisoning your wolf. That's a capital offense in werewolf law."

"I don't want revenge," I said quietly. "I just want out."

"I know, sweetie, but you deserve compensation for what he's done," Sophia insisted, her professional persona momentarily giving way to friendship.

"Three years of your life with that asshole? The herbs he's been giving you could have permanently damaged Serena."

At the mention of my wolf, pain lanced through my chest. "She's barely responding, Sophia. She's so weak I can hardly feel her anymore."

Concern flashed across her face. "She'll recover. Wolves are resilient, especially when removing themselves from toxic bonds." She reached across the desk and squeezed my hand. "You need to see a wolf healer."

"I am a wolf healer," I reminded her with a weak smile.

She closed her tablet and glanced around the bar, noticing the staff beginning to set up something elaborate near the small stage area. "Looks like they're preparing for something."

As if on cue, the bartender announced over the sound system, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Moonlight Bar's monthly Masquerade Night! Masks are available at the bar for those who wish to participate. Let the mystery begin!"

"Welcome to Moonlight Bar's monthly Masquerade Night! Masks are available at the bar. Let the mystery begin."

Sophia's eyes lit up.

"No." I shook my head.

"Yes."

"Sophia."

"You discovered your husband is a traitor, your sister-in-law is carrying his child, and your wolf has been drugged for months. You are allowed one dramatic mask."

I almost laughed despite myself.

She returned with two masks-silver for her, black velvet with crimson edges for me. The moment she tied it over my face, the woman in the mirror behind the bar looked different.

Sophia squeezed my shoulder. "I'll be on the dance floor. Don't disappear."

"I won't."

She gave me a look. "You always say that before emotionally disappearing for six months."

I rolled my eyes, and she left laughing.

For a while, I sat alone, letting the whiskey dull the tremor in my hands. Without Serena's usual strength, the alcohol hit harder than it should have. The room blurred at the edges. Masks moved like ghosts under violet lights.

Then the seat beside me shifted.

I did not look up at first.

Then I caught his scent.

Dark sandalwood. Cold metal. Winter smoke.

My entire body went still.

I turned slowly.

The man beside me wore a black mask, but no mask could hide those eyes-grey-blue, sharp, and impossible to forget.

Caesar Blackwood.

My former guardian. The Alpha who had taken me in after my parents died. The man I had loved before I ever understood what love could cost.

He looked at me like he had been trying not to for years.

My heartbreak, whiskey, and old longing collided into something reckless.

"Well," I said, letting my lips curve, "fancy meeting you here, stranger."

His jaw tightened. "You're drunk."

"Not enough."

"Viya."

The way he said my name almost undid me. Not Luna Wilde. Not Doctor. Not someone else's wife.

Just Viya.

I leaned closer. "Careful, stranger. You sound like you know me."

"I know enough to say you should not be alone in a bar tonight."

"Then don't leave me alone."

His eyes darkened. "Do you hear yourself?"

"Yes." I let my coat fall open just enough to reveal the crimson dress beneath. "For once, I do."

His gaze dropped for half a second, then snapped back to my face. Control radiated from him like a warning.

"You are married."

I smiled, but it hurt. "Am I?"

His fingers tightened around his glass. "That is not a game."

"No," I whispered. "Marriage was the game. I just didn't know everyone else was playing."

Something changed in his expression.

"What did Lucius do?"

The question was too direct. Too close to the wound.

I laughed softly. "Why do you care? You gave up the right to ask me questions years ago."

Pain flashed through his eyes.

"Viya-"

"No." I placed a hand on his thigh, partly to provoke him, partly because the contact steadied me. "Tonight, you're a stranger. I'm a woman who doesn't want to be sensible. Isn't that what masquerades are for?"

His breath caught.

"You have no idea what you are asking for."

"Maybe I do."

"Little wolf." His voice dropped into a growl. "Do not test me."

The old nickname hit something tender and furious inside me.

"Or what?" I challenged. "You'll reject me again? Walk away again? Pretend you don't want me again?"

His control cracked.

One moment he was still. The next, his hand was in my hair and his mouth was on mine.

The kiss was not gentle. It was years of silence breaking open. I tasted whiskey, anger, regret, and a hunger neither of us had ever buried properly. My hands fisted in his jacket. His palm held my waist as if he wanted to pull me out of my life entirely.

For one dangerous second, I let myself forget Lucius. Miranda. The recording. The poison.

Then Caesar tore himself away.

His breathing was harsh. His eyes were furious-not at me, but at himself.

"Look at me," he demanded. "Look carefully at who you are touching."

Caesar's POV

I had returned from Europe that morning after three weeks of alliance negotiations, threats, and enough political flattery to make my wolf want to bite someone.

Jackson said I needed a drink.

Marcus said I needed sleep.

Daniel said I needed to stop terrifying foreign Alphas into signing trade agreements before lunch.

They were all wrong.

What I needed was to stop looking for Viya Wilde in every crowded room.

Then I saw her at Moonlight Bar.

At first, I thought exhaustion had conjured her. Viya did not belong in that place, not in a crimson dress, not with whiskey in her hand, not with the broken, dangerous calm of a woman who had finally lost something she was tired of protecting.

Marcus followed my gaze. "Alpha?"

"Nothing."

But it was not nothing.

Viya had been my responsibility once. More than that, though I had been too much of a coward to name it. I had raised her under Blackwood protection after her parents' deaths. I had watched a frightened girl grow into a gentle, brilliant wolf doctor. I had also watched her look at me with feelings I had no right to accept.

Then three years ago, after her adult transformation ceremony, everything changed.

Her scent had called to me like fate.

Not strongly enough. Not clearly enough. The bond between us had flickered but not roared, and fear had done what enemies never could. It made me retreat.

I convinced myself I was protecting her. If I was not her destined mate, if the weak bond was only confusion, then claiming her would have been selfish.

So I let Lucius Wilde marry her.

Worst decision of my life.

Now she sat ten meters away, wearing a mask and looking as if one more polite word might shatter her.

When Sophia left her alone, several men began watching.

My wolf, Olsen, snarled.

I stood.

Jackson lifted a brow. "You said this wasn't our concern."

"I changed my mind."

I took a black mask from the bar and sat beside her, intending only to keep her safe. No touching. No questions. No reopening wounds.

Then she turned to me and smiled.

"Well, fancy meeting you here, stranger."

She did not recognize me. Or she wanted me to think she did not.

Either way, it nearly destroyed my restraint.

"You're drunk," I said.

"Not enough."

Her voice slid under my skin. The crimson dress beneath her coat made her look like temptation wrapped in heartbreak.

"You should call your husband," I forced out.

Her smile sharpened. "My husband is busy."

"With what?"

"Someone else."

Every instinct in me went silent.

"What did he do?"

She leaned closer. "You don't get to ask that."

"I do if you are in danger."

"You didn't care about danger when you sent me to marry him."

The accusation hit hard because it was true.

"I did not send you."

"No. You only stepped aside and let everyone else do it." Her eyes glittered behind the mask. "That was cleaner, wasn't it? You didn't have to reject me. You just let me become another Alpha's problem."

"Viya."

"Don't use that voice."

"What voice?"

"The one that sounds like you care when you've spent three years proving you don't."

I deserved that. Every word.

Then her hand touched my thigh, and all rational thought became a battlefield.

She was drunk. Married. Hurt. "Mine," Olsen insisted, but not mine to take.

"Little wolf," I warned.

Her breath caught. For half a second, recognition flared in her eyes. Then pride buried it.

"Don't you want to play?"

My control snapped.

The kiss detonated through my system like an explosion. Her taste-whiskey and something uniquely her-sent fire racing through my veins. I devoured her mouth with years of pent-up hunger, my tongue sweeping past her lips to claim every inch of her.

She moaned against my mouth, her hands fisting in my jacket as she kissed me back with equal desperation. The sound went straight to my cock, making it strain painfully against my pants.

My free hand gripped her waist, pulling her half off her stool and against my body. I needed her closer. Needed to feel every soft curve pressed against me.

The evidence of my desire pressed shamelessly against her hip, and I didn't give a damn who might be watching.

I ached to claim her at once, mark her, and proclaim to the whole world that she was my Luna. Yet reason reminded me she was merely flirting with a stranger from the bar, and I was nothing more than her emotional outlet.

Jealousy seared through my sanity, yet I still pushed her away.

"Look at me," I growled. "Look carefully at who you are touching."

She stared at me, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with unshed tears.

Then I removed my mask.

"Alpha Caesar," she said with false surprise. "How embarrassing."

"Do not."

"Do not what?"

"Pretend that kiss meant nothing."

She laughed once, sharp and wounded. "You taught me how to pretend."

I stood too quickly. "You should go home."

"I don't have a home."

The words froze the air between us.

"What does that mean?"

She slid off the stool, swaying. "It means you're late, Caesar. As usual."

I reached for her arm. "Let me help you."

She jerked away. "No. You don't get to save me when it's convenient for your conscience."

"Viya-"

"Go back to your table, Alpha Blackwood. I'm sure you're very good at watching from a distance."

Then she walked away.

I let her.

Again.

Olsen's voice was a low, furious growl in my mind. "Something is wrong with Serena."

Only then did I realize what my wolf had been trying to tell me all night.

The bond was damaged.

Not weak. Not fading naturally.

Damaged.

Poisoned.

I turned to Marcus, my voice deadly calm. "Find out everything about Viya Wilde's marriage. Medical records. Pack reports. Household staff. Every rumor. Every purchase. Every healer."

Marcus straightened. "Alpha?"

"Someone has been harming her wolf."

His face changed.

"And Marcus?"

"Yes, Alpha?"

"If Lucius Wilde is responsible, he will learn why people fear my name."