Dawn crept through the windows of the pack house, casting long shadows across the floor. I hadn't slept. How could I? Luna's absence left a gaping void in my chest that no amount of time could fill. Her scent still lingered on my clothes—milk, honey, and wildflowers—growing fainter with each passing hour. I clutched her wooden wolf carving in my palm, the edges worn smooth from her tiny fingers.

Lyra, my wolf, remained eerily silent within me. Since Luna's last breath, she'd retreated deep into my consciousness, her grief too profound for howls.

I knew what I had to do.

The pack vault was located in the east wing, a heavily reinforced room guarded day and night. I approached with measured steps, my face carefully blank despite the storm raging inside me. The morning shift quartermaster, Daniel, stood at attention, his eyes widening slightly at my approach.

"Former Luna," he murmured, the title piercing me like a physical blow.

"I need access to my family's inheritance," I stated, my voice steadier than I felt. "The funds my parents left when they passed."

Daniel's gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders tensing. "I... I can't authorize that, ma'am."

"It's my birthright," I insisted, stepping closer. "Pack law protects individual family holdings, even for Deltas."

"Alpha Blackwood issued a decree three days ago." Daniel's voice dropped to a whisper. "All Mitchell family assets have been... reallocated to the pack's general fund."

The timing wasn't lost on me. Three days ago—the same day Ethan had purchased Victoria's diamond bracelet.

"Show me," I demanded.

Daniel hesitated before unlocking the heavy door. The vault smelled of metal and old paper, rows of safety deposit boxes lining the walls. He led me to the corner where the smaller Delta family boxes were kept. My hands trembled as he opened the Mitchell box.

Empty.

The modest savings that could have given Luna a chance—gone.

"I'm sorry," Daniel murmured, genuine regret in his eyes. "If there's anything else..."

I turned away, unable to bear his pity. "There's nothing."

The corridor outside the vault stretched before me like a prison hallway. Pack members scurried about their morning duties, their eyes darting away when they spotted me. I recognized Emma, a young Omega who had often helped with Luna's bedtime routine.

"Emma," I called, my voice cracking. "Please, I need help."

She froze, conflict flashing across her face. "Former Luna," she whispered, the title a barrier between us. Her eyes darted nervously toward the Alpha's quarters before she hurried away.

I tried again with Marcus, a Delta warrior who had trained alongside me years ago. "Marcus, please. Just a moment of your time."

"I can't be seen talking to you," he muttered, barely slowing his pace. "Alpha's orders."

One by one, they all turned away—faces I'd known for years, wolves I'd considered pack family. Each rejection chipped away at my already shattered heart. By midday, I'd become a ghost in my own home, invisible yet somehow still too visible.

Night fell, bringing with it a suffocating stillness. I couldn't stay within these walls another moment, not with Luna's empty bed and Ethan's betrayal pressing in from all sides. Wrapping myself in a plain cloak, I slipped out to the outer wall, the boundary between pack territory and the wilderness beyond.

The cool night air carried unfamiliar scents—wild and free. I inhaled deeply, allowing myself to imagine, just for a moment, what it might feel like to run without the weight of pack bonds.

A rustle in the undergrowth startled me. I tensed, ready to retreat, when a figure materialized from the shadows—a lean, scarred rogue with wary eyes.

"Sarah Mitchell?" he whispered, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

I nodded, heart racing.

He pressed something into my palm—a small, folded piece of parchment—before melting back into the darkness. "From Rodriguez," were his only words.

Under the faint moonlight, I carefully unfolded the note. A series of symbols and markings covered the page—Michelle's signature cipher, one we'd developed during joint training exercises years ago. The message was clear beneath the code:

"I know what happened. Help is coming. Be ready when the moon wanes."

I clutched the paper to my chest, feeling the first spark of something I'd thought lost forever.

Hope.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting silver shadows across the old pack gate. I pressed my back against the ancient oak tree, my heartbeat thundering in my chest as I waited. Every rustle in the undergrowth made me flinch, paranoia clawing at my mind. Three days had passed since Luna's tiny body had gone cold in my arms, and the pack house had become a prison of whispers and averted gazes.

A familiar scent—sage and rainwater—drifted through the air moments before Michelle's lean figure materialized from the darkness. Her eyes, sharp and alert, scanned our surroundings before she approached.

'Sarah,' she whispered, not daring to speak aloud. Her voice slipped into my mind through our private link, a connection we'd forged years ago during joint training exercises. 'I came as soon as I could.'

I swallowed hard, throat tight with unshed tears. 'Thank you for coming.'

Michelle's eyes softened with compassion, but her jaw remained set in determination. 'The rumors are true, then? About Luna?'

I nodded, unable to form the words. Within me, Lyra whimpered softly, her grief a constant ache in my chest.

'And Ethan?' Michelle's mind-voice hardened. 'Is he...'

'He refused the Lycan healers,' I confirmed, bitter acid rising in my throat. 'Said the pack couldn't afford it while he was busy with territorial negotiations.'

Michelle's lips thinned to a hard line. 'Territorial negotiations. Is that what they're calling it now?'

The question hung between us, heavy with implication.

'Victoria Sterling,' Michelle continued, her disgust palpable through our link. 'She's been seen entering his private quarters almost nightly. The Silverfang bitch has been working her way into his inner circle for months.'

Though I'd suspected as much, hearing it confirmed sent a fresh wave of pain through our fractured bond. Lyra growled, a sound of betrayal rather than aggression.

'Her influence grows stronger each day,' Michelle warned. 'She's systematically isolating him, surrounding him with her supporters. Anyone loyal to you is being reassigned or demoted.'

I closed my eyes, remembering the empty faces in the pack house, the way they'd turned from me one by one. 'I know.'

Michelle reached into her jacket, pulling out a rolled parchment sealed with wax. The paper itself seemed to hum with ancient energy—sacred parchment, blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.

'You know what this is?' she asked, her expression grave.

My fingers trembled as I took it. 'Rejection papers.'

'The formal severing of mate bonds,' Michelle confirmed. 'It's your right, Sarah. After what he's done...'

The parchment felt impossibly heavy in my hands. To reject a mate bond was no small thing—it was to tear apart what the Moon Goddess herself had joined. The pain would be excruciating for both parties, but especially for the rejected.

'The ritual must be precise,' Michelle instructed, her voice dropping lower. 'The inkscriptions must be done with a silver-tipped quill, dipped in water collected under a full moon. The seals require your blood and his name written in the old tongue.'

I listened carefully, memorizing each step. This would be my one chance to break free.

'When it's done,' Michelle continued, 'bring it to the pack alliance meeting. That's when you'll have the most witnesses.'

I nodded, tucking the parchment into my cloak. 'There's something else I need first.'

The healer's wing was quiet when we slipped inside, most pack members asleep in their quarters. The scent of medicinal herbs and disinfectant filled my nostrils as we made our way to Elara's private office.

The elderly Omega healer sat hunched over her desk, her silver hair gleaming in the candlelight. She looked up as we entered, her weathered face creasing with sorrow.

'I wondered when you'd come,' she whispered, rising slowly from her chair.

'I need the truth, Elara,' I said, my voice steadier than I felt. 'About Luna's condition.'

Elara's hands trembled as she reached for a locked drawer in her desk. 'What I'm about to show you could cost me my position... perhaps even my life.'

She extracted a thin folder, placing it before me with reverent care. 'These are the complete medical records I was ordered to suppress.'

I opened the folder, Michelle looking over my shoulder. The documents inside confirmed my worst fears—Luna's condition had been treatable. The Lycan healers could have saved her with a specialized ritual that would have awakened her dormant wolf.

'He knew,' I whispered, a cold fury replacing the grief in my heart. 'He knew and he chose...'

'He chose her,' Elara finished, her eyes filled with ancient sadness. 'And the pack resources went to covering up her indiscretions rather than saving your daughter.'

I closed the folder, tucking it beside the rejection papers. The path before me was clear now, illuminated by moonlight and righteous anger.

'Thank you, Elara,' I said, squeezing her frail hand. 'You've given me everything I need.'

As we slipped back into the night, the rejection parchment seemed to pulse against my skin, a promise of justice long overdue. Within me, Lyra stirred, no longer whimpering but watching with predatory focus.

The time for grief had passed. Now was the time for retribution.