I couldn't sleep after what I'd heard. Emma paced restlessly within me, her agitation matching the storm in my mind. *Decoy Luna*. The words had carved themselves into my consciousness, leaving wounds deeper than any claw mark I'd ever received defending Vincent.

The pack council meeting was scheduled for noon. As I dressed in the navy blue dress Vincent had once claimed brought out the gold flecks in my eyes, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Five years of believing I was special, chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. Five years of lies.

"We need proof," Emma whispered within me. "Something concrete."

She was right. My word against an Alpha's would mean nothing, especially with his Beta backing his story. I needed evidence.

The council chamber buzzed with activity as pack members filed in. Vincent sat at the head of the long oak table, his posture regal, commanding. Our eyes met briefly, and he smiled—that same smile I'd treasured for years. Now it felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

"Luna," he nodded, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.

I took my place, the perfect Luna, while beneath my calm exterior, I plotted.

Marcus leaned in to whisper something to Vincent, and I seized my opportunity. "I forgot my notes in our quarters," I announced, rising gracefully. "Please begin without me."

Vincent nodded absently, already engrossed in the territory dispute being presented. No one questioned the Luna's movements. That would be their mistake.

Instead of heading toward our shared quarters, I slipped down the corridor toward Vincent's private study. Two Delta wolves stood guard, but I'd anticipated this.

"Marcus needs you both in the council chamber," I said, infusing my voice with Luna authority. "Something about the eastern border patrol."

They hesitated only briefly before nodding respectfully and leaving their posts. The privileges of being Luna—privileges I now understood were built on sand.

Inside the study, I moved quickly. Vincent's desk was immaculate, each item in its precise place. I ran my fingers along the underside of the heavy wooden desk, finding the small lever Emma had once noticed him using when he thought I wasn't looking.

A soft click, and a panel in the bookcase slid open, revealing a hidden compartment. My heart hammered against my ribs as I reached inside, pulling out a leather-bound journal.

The first entry was dated five years ago, just before Vincent had claimed me as his mate.

*'The Silverfang alliance is too dangerous to pursue openly. Sophia remains vulnerable as long as our enemies know of my attachment to her. Tomorrow I will claim Isabella Morgan as my Luna. Her bloodline is strong enough to be believable, and her naive devotion to pack traditions makes her the perfect decoy.'*

My hands trembled as I flipped through the pages, each entry more devastating than the last.

*'Isabella took a severe injury during today's border skirmish. The attack was clearly meant for me, confirming that our strategy is working. While regrettable, her suffering serves its purpose in keeping attention diverted from Sophia.'*

I felt physically ill when I reached the entry dated around the time of my miscarriage.

*'The pregnancy was an unexpected complication. A partial rejection during the full moon was sufficient to terminate it without arousing suspicion. Isabella believes it was the stress of the pack war. Her grief is profound but will pass. The shield remains intact.'*

Emma howled within me, the sound echoing in my mind but trapped in my human form. Our pup—our precious baby—had been deliberately taken from us. Not by fate or war, but by Vincent's calculated cruelty.

I copied several of the most damning passages onto a small notepad I kept in my pocket, then carefully returned the journal to its hiding place. The panel slid shut with a soft click that seemed to seal my resolve.

Dawn found me in the ancient clearing where tradition dictated that Alphas mark their mates. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy as I examined the massive oak trees surrounding the sacred space.

There, carved into the bark of the oldest tree, were practice marks—identical to the one Vincent had placed on my neck during our mating ceremony. I traced the scars with my fingertips, feeling the deliberate pattern that matched my own mark perfectly.

This wasn't sacred tradition. This was rehearsal.

As the morning light strengthened, illuminating the clearing, I saw more trees with similar markings. Each one a practice run. Each one evidence of how meticulously Vincent had planned his deception.

I pressed my forehead against the rough bark, feeling something break free inside me. The loyal, loving Luna was dying, and in her place, something colder and more dangerous was being born.

"He will pay for this," I whispered to the ancient trees that had witnessed his betrayal. "They both will."

Emma growled her agreement, her presence suddenly sharper, more focused than I'd ever felt her before.

*We are no one's shield*, she snarled. *We are the sword.*

The morning light filtered through the curtains as I lay beside Vincent, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. Five years of sharing this bed, and now every memory felt tainted by what I'd discovered. The man I'd devoted my life to had been using me as a shield all along. My fingers traced the mate mark on my neck—the mark I once believed was sacred, now revealed as nothing more than a practiced deception.

Emma stirred within me, her anger a constant presence since our discovery in Vincent's study. *We need more proof,* she urged. *Something we can use when the time comes.*

I waited until Vincent left for his morning patrol before slipping out of bed. Our bedroom—a space I'd once considered a sanctuary—now felt like the center of his elaborate lie. My eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that might have escaped my notice during five years of blind devotion.

The antique wardrobe in the corner had always been Vincent's private space. He'd claimed it contained pack heirlooms too precious to display. I'd respected his privacy, never questioning why certain areas of our shared quarters remained off-limits to me.

"No more secrets," I whispered, approaching the wardrobe with determined steps.

The lock gave way easily under my touch—another sign of Vincent's arrogance. He'd never expected his Luna to question him, to search for truth behind his carefully constructed facade.

Inside, past the hanging clothes and folded linens, my fingers found a false panel at the back. Emma growled in satisfaction as it slid open, revealing a hidden compartment filled with photographs.

My hands trembled as I pulled them out. Each image was like a physical blow—Vincent and Sophia together in the sacred mating clearing, performing rituals that mirrored exactly what he'd done with me. The positions, the ceremonial words written in notes along the margins, even the angle of his head as he marked her neck—all identical to my own mating ceremony.

"Rehearsals," I read aloud, the word scrawled across one photo in Vincent's precise handwriting. "Position needs adjustment. More force on the marking bite to ensure proper scarring."

I sank to the floor, the photographs scattered around me like evidence of a crime. These weren't memories of stolen moments between lovers—they were clinical documentation of practice sessions, ensuring he could perform our "sacred" bond perfectly when the time came.

*He practiced on her to make it look real with you,* Emma snarled. *Everything was choreographed.*

I gathered the most damning photos and slipped them into the inner pocket of my robe. Evidence. Ammunition for when I would need it most.

---

Later that afternoon, I spotted Marcus walking alone down the east corridor, his attention focused on pack reports in his hands. Perfect timing. I'd been waiting for an opportunity to get him away from Vincent's side.

"Marcus," I called, infusing my voice with worry. "Do you have a moment? There's something concerning the security detail I need to discuss."

He looked up, momentarily surprised. "Of course, Luna. What seems to be the problem?"

I lowered my voice, stepping closer. "I've noticed the patrol schedule has gaps in the northern sector. With the recent rogue sightings..."

As I'd hoped, his Beta instincts immediately engaged. "Show me where you've noticed this," he said, following me toward the administrative wing.

I led him down the hallway, past the council room, gesturing animatedly about imaginary security concerns. As we approached the supply storeroom—my actual destination—I pretended to drop my bracelet.

"Oh! That was my mother's," I gasped, bending down. "Marcus, could you check if it rolled under that cabinet? I'll look over here."

While he dutifully searched where I'd pointed, I slipped the small key I'd taken from Vincent's desk into the storeroom lock. With Marcus's back turned, I quietly pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, closing it silently behind me.

The storeroom was dimly lit, shelves stacked with supplies for the pack house. But I wasn't interested in cleaning products or linens. My target was the locked cabinet at the back—the one I'd seen our pack healer access when preparing Vincent's "special tea."

The cabinet yielded to the same key, revealing rows of carefully labeled vials. My breath caught as I read the labels: "Bond Stabilizer – Luna Dose #137." Another was marked "Emotional Amplifier – For Luna's Tea Only."

I pocketed several vials, my hands steady despite the rage building inside me. These weren't healing herbs or supplements—they were control mechanisms, chemicals designed to maintain the illusion of a mate bond where none existed.

Emma's fury matched my own. *He's been drugging us,* she growled. *Making us feel a connection that was never real.*

As I relocked the cabinet, a terrible clarity washed over me. The constant tea Vincent insisted I drink for my "health." The special blend he claimed would "strengthen our bond." The way I'd always felt physically ill when separated from him for too long—withdrawal symptoms, not mate-bond anxiety.

I slipped out of the storeroom unnoticed, the vials heavy in my pocket. Marcus was still searching for my nonexistent bracelet, his loyalty to Vincent making him blind to my deception.

"Never mind, I found it," I called, holding up my wrist with the bracelet I'd never actually dropped. "Thank you for your help with the security concerns."

He straightened, nodding respectfully. "Anytime, Luna."

Little did he know, his Luna was no longer the compliant shield they'd created. With each piece of evidence I gathered, the path to my freedom became clearer. Vincent Kane had spent five years perfecting his deception.

Now it was my turn.