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."

Viya's POV

I woke in Sophia's guest room with a headache, a dry throat, and the humiliating memory of kissing Caesar Blackwood in public.

I pulled the pillow over my face.

Sophia walked in with coffee. "Good morning, disaster."

"I hate you."

"You threw yourself at North America's most terrifying Alpha and lived. That deserves breakfast."

I groaned. "Tell me I didn't say anything too terrible."

Sophia sat on the edge of the bed. "You told him he was late."

I lowered the pillow.

Her teasing faded. "Were you talking about Lucius or Caesar?"

"Yes."

She handed me the coffee and a folder.

"Divorce papers," she said. "Asset separation, clinic independence, provisional evidence packet. I drafted the first version years ago."

"Years?"

"Viya, I'm a lawyer. I prepare for disasters. Your marriage had disaster written in calligraphy."

Despite everything, I laughed softly.

Then I opened the folder.

Seeing my name beside Lucius's in legal language made something inside me ache. Not because I still wanted him. Because once, I had wanted the name Luna Wilde to mean chosen.

"When can I have him sign?" I asked.

"As soon as possible. Before he knows you know."

An hour later, I drove back to the Wilde mansion.

Miranda's car sat in my parking spot.

My books, coats, medical journals, and framed photos were scattered across the front lawn like trash.

For a moment, I simply stared.

Then the front door opened.

Miranda stepped out wearing my silk robe.

"Viya," she said sweetly. "You didn't come home last night. Lucius was worried."

"No," I said, walking past her. "He wasn't."

Her smile stiffened.

Inside, the house smelled of roses. Her scent. Her claim.

"You threw out my things," I said.

"I reorganized."

"You put my medical journals in wet grass."

Miranda tilted her head. "They looked old."

I turned to face her fully. "Be careful. Stupidity can be forgiven. Malice is harder to explain."

Her mask slipped.

"Don't act superior," she hissed. "Everyone knows why Lucius married you. You were useful. That's all."

"Useful enough to be Luna. Useful enough that you had to sneak around like a thief."

Her eyes flashed. "He loves me."

"Then why are you wearing my robe in my house, waiting for me to notice?"

She stepped closer. "Because soon this will be my house."

"Say it louder."

"What?"

I smiled. "Say you want my husband, my title, my bedroom, and my life. Say it like a woman brave enough to own her choices."

Miranda's lips parted, but no words came.

Of course not. Women like her needed shadows. Tears. Plausible grief.

"You're pathetic," I said quietly. "Not because you love him. Because you need me humiliated to feel chosen."

Her hand flew toward my face.

I caught her wrist before it landed.

Her eyes widened.

"Touch me again," I said, voice soft, "and I will make sure every wolf in this pack hears how the grieving widow tried to slap the Luna she stole from."

"You think they'll believe you?"

"No." I leaned closer. "But they'll wonder. And that will ruin you faster than truth."

The front door opened.

Lucius stepped in.

Miranda instantly collapsed into tears.

"Lucius!" she cried. "I only tried to help organize the house, but Viya threatened me."

Lucius looked first at Miranda's trembling form, then at me.

That hesitation told me everything.

"Did you threaten her?" he asked.

I laughed.

The sound startled him.

"My belongings are on the lawn, your brother's widow is wearing my robe, and you're asking whether I hurt her feelings?"

His jaw tightened. "Viya, don't twist this."

"I don't have to twist anything. Look around."

Miranda sniffed. "I didn't realize she would be so possessive. I only thought, since Lucius asked me to stay-"

I looked at him. "You asked her to stay?"

Lucius rubbed his brow. "She's grieving."

"She's pregnant with your child."

The room went silent.

Miranda's face went white.

Lucius's eyes widened. "What?"

I held his gaze. "Relax. I'm not asking you to explain. Not today."

From my purse, I pulled out the divorce papers folded beneath a clinic grant cover sheet.

"In fact, I need your signature."

He frowned. "For what?"

"A clinic document. Time-sensitive. As my husband, you're required to sign."

Miranda stepped forward. "Lucius, maybe you should read-"

I turned to her. "Are you worried about my clinic now?"

Lucius, irritated by the tension, took the pen. "Enough. I trust Viya with medical paperwork."

The irony nearly made me smile.

He signed without reading.

I accepted the papers with steady hands.

"Thank you," I said. "That's all I needed."

For the first time since marrying him, I walked away from Lucius Wilde with something he had given me willingly.

My freedom.

Before I went upstairs, Lucius followed me into the corridor.

"Viya, wait."

I stopped but did not turn around.

"What did you mean about Miranda being pregnant with my child?"

There it was-the panic beneath his Alpha voice. Not guilt. Not concern for me. Fear that his hidden world had leaked into mine.

I looked back over my shoulder. "Ask her."

"I am asking you."

"No, Lucius. You are asking whether I know enough to become dangerous. Those are different questions."

His face tightened. "Don't speak to me like I'm your enemy."

"Then stop standing on the other side."

For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to reach for me. Miranda's muffled sob came from the sitting room, and his hand fell back to his side.

I smiled faintly. "Go comfort her. You always do."

"Viya-"

"Don't worry. I won't make a scene. I know how much you hate when I inconvenience your lies."