I walked back to the pack house with my head held high, Emma's presence stronger within me than it had been in years. The morning sun warmed my face, a stark contrast to the cold determination settling in my chest. For the first time since I'd become Luna of the Silvermoon Pack, I felt like I was actually breathing.

*We did it,* Emma whispered in my mind. *We finally stood up for ourselves.*

I knew the storm was coming. Filing for mate bond rejection wasn't just unusual—it was practically unheard of for a Luna. But as I approached the imposing stone structure of the pack house, I refused to let my resolve waver.

The moment I stepped through the door, I heard Ryan's booming laughter echoing from his office. My wolf bristled, sensing the mockery before I even heard the words.

"A rejection filing?" Ryan's voice carried down the hallway. "She's throwing a tantrum, nothing more."

I paused in the corridor, my hand resting on the cool wall as I listened. I should have expected this reaction, yet it still stung.

"She'll come crawling back by dinner," Eleonora's smug voice replied. "She has nowhere else to go, no one else to be. What would she even do without the pack?"

"Poor thing," Amanda's falsely sympathetic tone made my teeth clench. "The pressure of being Luna clearly became too much for her fragile constitution."

I crept closer to the partially open door, peering through the crack. Ryan sat behind his massive oak desk, looking more annoyed than concerned. Amanda stood beside him, her hand resting possessively on his arm, her thumb making small circles against his skin. Eleonora lounged in a leather chair, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips.

"She'll back down," Ryan said dismissively, covering Amanda's hand with his own. "She always does."

The casual certainty in his voice ignited something in me—a burning anger that had been smoldering for years.

*He thinks we're weak,* Emma growled. *They all do.*

"Let her play her little game," Eleonora waved her hand. "It's not like anyone takes her seriously anyway."

I backed away from the door, my heart pounding. They were so confident in their control over me, so certain of my dependence. And why wouldn't they be? For eight years, I'd bent to their will, swallowed my pride, accepted my erasure piece by piece.

Not anymore.

I hurried to my quarters—the small suite I'd been relegated to after Eleonora had claimed it was "more appropriate" for the Alpha to have his own space. I needed my healing journals. If I was really going to break free, I'd need proof of my work, evidence of the innovations Amanda had stolen.

My hand froze on the doorknob to my apothecary. It wouldn't turn. I tried again, rattling the handle, but it remained firmly locked.

"Looking for something?"

I whirled around to find Amanda leaning against the wall, twirling a key ring around her finger. Her smile was sweet, her eyes glacial.

"That's my private workspace," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Was," she corrected, her smile widening. "Alpha Ryan agreed it would be best if all healing activities were consolidated under proper supervision. For the pack's safety, of course."

My stomach dropped. "My journals—"

"Pack property," she interrupted smoothly. "All innovations developed within Silvermoon belong to the pack. And as head healer, I'm the appropriate custodian."

Emma snarled, the sound reverberating through my mind. *She's taken everything. Our work. Our mate. Our son.*

"You can't do this," I whispered, though we both knew she already had.

Amanda stepped closer, her voice dropping to a confidential murmur. "Your little rejection stunt? Adorable. But let's be realistic, Sarah. You're nothing without this pack. Without Ryan's name. Without me allowing you the scraps of dignity you still cling to." She patted my cheek condescendingly. "Know your place. It's easier that way."

She sauntered away, the keys jingling mockingly in her hand. I stood frozen, staring at the locked door that contained years of my research, my creations, my identity.

Emma's growl grew louder, a rumbling that seemed to shake my very bones. *This is theft. This is war.*

I pressed my palm against the door, feeling a resolve crystallize within me. They had taken my work, my status, my son's affection. They thought they had left me with nothing.

But they were wrong. They had left me with the one thing I needed most: nothing left to lose.

Dusk painted long shadows across the pack house as I slipped through the empty corridors. My heart pounded against my ribs, but Emma's presence kept me steady. After Amanda had locked me out of my own apothecary, I'd spent hours pacing my room, rage and determination building with each step.

*We need evidence,* Emma had urged. *Proof of what she's stolen.*

I knew exactly where to look. Amanda was many things, but original wasn't one of them. She'd always been predictable in her arrogance, believing herself too clever to be caught.

The administration wing was deserted this time of evening. Most pack members were gathered in the dining hall, giving me the perfect opportunity to slip into Amanda's office unnoticed. The door was locked, of course, but I hadn't spent eight years developing healing formulas without learning a few tricks. The small vial of solution I'd hidden in my sleeve made quick work of the lock mechanism.

Once inside, I moved with purpose. Amanda was meticulous about appearances—her desk was immaculate, files perfectly aligned, everything labeled with her flowing script. But I knew her secret. Behind the facade of organization lay a desperate need to document her stolen triumphs.

"Where would you hide it?" I whispered, scanning the room. Emma's instincts guided me toward a painting on the far wall—a garish landscape that Amanda had hung shortly after taking over my position. It was slightly askew, just enough to catch my attention.

Behind it lay a small wall safe. I almost laughed at the predictability. The combination wasn't difficult to guess—the date she'd officially been named head healer. The day she'd stolen my title.

The safe swung open, revealing a thick leather portfolio. My fingers trembled as I pulled it out and flipped it open. Page after page of photographs—my private healing journals splayed open, my formulas meticulously documented. Each page was labeled with Amanda's name, dated as if she'd been the originator. Years of my work, my innovations, my legacy—all rebranded as hers.

"Goddess," I breathed, rage and vindication warring within me. Emma howled in triumph.

*We have her now.*

I carefully photographed each page with my phone, making sure to capture the dates, the formulas, and Amanda's falsified claims of authorship. When I was done, I returned the portfolio exactly as I'd found it and closed the safe.

As I slipped out of her office, a strange calm settled over me. For years, I'd doubted myself, wondered if perhaps I truly was as insignificant as they all treated me. But the evidence in my phone proved otherwise. My work mattered. I mattered.

I was so lost in thought that I almost collided with Amanda as I rounded the corner toward the main hall. She stopped short, her eyes narrowing as she took in my presence in the administrative wing.

"Sarah," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "You look... troubled. Are you lost?"

Something in me snapped. Eight years of swallowing my words, of shrinking myself, of accepting her theft—it all boiled over in that moment.

"I want my research back," I said, my voice steady and clear. "All of it. The formulas, the journals, everything you've stolen."

Amanda's mask slipped for just a second, shock flashing across her features before she recovered, arranging her face into a look of pitying concern.

"Oh, Sarah," she sighed, loud enough for anyone passing to hear. "This paranoia isn't healthy. I've been worried about your mental state for some time now."

"Stop the act," I hissed, stepping closer. "I know what you've done. I've seen the evidence."

Her eyes hardened, all pretense dropping. "Evidence of what? Your work? There is no 'your work' in a pack. Everything belongs to the Alpha—to Ryan. And he's chosen me to oversee it." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Face it, Sarah. You're nothing but a brood mare who got lucky with a mate bond that even Ryan regrets."

Emma surged forward, my eyes flashing gold with her anger. "You can't hide behind Ryan forever. The truth will come out."

"Is there a problem here?"

I turned to find two pack guards approaching, their expressions carefully neutral. Amanda immediately stepped back, tears welling in her eyes.

"I was just checking on Sarah," she said tremulously. "She's been making some concerning accusations. I think she needs to rest."

The guards exchanged glances before one stepped forward, his hand gentle but firm on my arm. "Luna Sarah, perhaps we should escort you back to your quarters."

"She stole my work," I insisted, pulling away from his grip. "Everything she's claimed credit for—it's all mine. I can prove it."

"Luna, please," the guard murmured, his discomfort evident. "Don't make this difficult."

As they led me away, I caught Amanda's triumphant smile over their shoulders. But this time, instead of defeat, I felt only determination. She thought she'd won this round, but she had no idea what was coming.

The evidence was secure in my phone. And I knew exactly who needed to see it next.