The Alpha King’s family was condemned, their entire pack executed.

The newborn heir, Ambrose Collins, was spared due to his age, and I was assigned as his caretaker.

For eighteen years in the exile lands, I raised him, and in gratitude, he chose me as his mate.

That same year, the Alpha King’s name was cleared, and Ambrose was restored to his rightful position as the Lycan King.

The pack’s council urged him to take Angelica Burke, the daughter of the Beta, as his Luna.

But Ambrose insisted on bringing me, his mate, back to the pack’s territory.

Yet, misfortune struck, and I died on the journey to the capital.

Before my spirit could even pass, Ambrose hastily wed Angelica and crowned her Luna.

From then on, everyone whispered that the Lycan King seemed like a different man.

---

Angelica had someone lace the ceremonial mate wine with a potent drug.

Her loyal Omega, Savannah Clark, couldn’t help but ask, “My Queen, why go to such lengths? Tonight is your marking ceremony. The King wouldn’t dare slight you, especially with the Burke family’s standing.”

Angelica, dressed in her ceremonial robes, sat on the ceremonial bed, a smug smile playing on her lips. “You don’t understand.

“The King may not slight me tonight, but to ensure I conceive quickly, I need to take matters into my own hands.

“With this, the King will have no choice but to comply.”

She suddenly looked up, her eyes meeting mine as I floated in the air.

I froze, startled.

But then I remembered.

I was dead. Angelica couldn’t see me.

“Besides,” she continued, “that lowly Omega only just died, and before her spirit could pass, the King crowned me Luna. It still feels... uncertain.”

The “lowly Omega” she spoke of was me.

Days ago, when she intercepted my journey to the capital, she had called me the same.

“You’re from a rogue pack, a mere Omega. How could you ever be Luna?

“If you leave now and swear never to return to the capital, I might spare your life.”

The moment I met Angelica, I knew trouble was brewing.

When she offered me a chance to live, I truly thought I could survive.

I begged and swore, but she betrayed her word.

“My Queen, the King is here,” a servant announced, and Angelica’s demeanor shifted instantly.

She stood, her posture elegant, her voice soft and demure, a stark contrast to her earlier tone.

I watched as Ambrose entered, his presence commanding, his aura powerful.

He helped her rise, his touch gentle.

Angelica stared up at him, her breath catching.

Ambrose, now the Lycan King, was no longer the scruffy heir I had known in the exile lands. His face was clean, his features sharp and striking. No wonder Angelica was captivated.

But back in the exile lands, his beauty had brought us nothing but trouble.

In a place like that, there were countless who coveted him.

He once considered disfiguring himself to spare me the burden, but I stopped him, and we resorted to smearing dirt on his face daily.

Angelica, flushed, spoke in a sweet, coquettish voice. “My King, forgive me.”

Ambrose, of course, didn’t blame her.

They moved to the ceremonial bed, and a servant approached with the mate wine.

I tried to stop Ambrose from taking the cup, but my hand passed right through his.

No matter how I shouted or pleaded, he couldn’t hear me.

Luckily, Ambrose paused, his gaze fixed on his hand where I had tried to grasp it.

“My King? What’s wrong?” Angelica asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Ambrose frowned, his eyes flicking to the wine, then shook his head.

“Were you thinking of... Kalani again?” Angelica ventured cautiously.

Kalani was my name.

Back in the exile lands, I worked tirelessly—washing clothes by day, emptying chamber pots by night—just to save enough to send Ambrose to the pack’s academy.

When he returned from his first day, he asked me, “What’s your name?”

I had no parents. At six, I was assigned to him as his caretaker. Everyone called me “lowly Omega.” I didn’t have a name.

“I have no name,” I had replied.

Ambrose looked at me, his lips pressed together thoughtfully. After a long moment, he said, “From now on, your name is Kalani.”

That day, I gained my name.

Even now, the memory brings a smile to my face.

“Kalani? She was nothing but a lowly Omega.”

After my death, everyone referred to me as Kalani, the Luna. Everyone but Ambrose.

He disliked the title, perhaps because, as the Lycan King, he was ashamed of my rogue origins, unwilling to acknowledge that he had once mated someone like me.

And truthfully, when he took me as his mate in the exile lands, it wasn’t out of desire.

I let go of the imaginary grip I had on his sleeve.

"Alpha, please don’t dwell on the past." Angelica’s voice was soft, almost tender, as she approached me with the ceremonial chalice—the symbol of the mark ceremony. The liquid shimmered under the dim light of the room, but my gaze didn’t linger on it. Instead, it stayed fixed on her face, searching for something I couldn’t quite name.

"Dwell?" I let out a low, bitter laugh, my voice sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. "Why would I dwell on her? She was nothing. Just an Omega. Her death means nothing to me."

Angelica’s cheeks flushed at my words, a delicate pink spreading across her skin. She was beautiful—there was no denying it. The daughter of Beta Rey Ramos, she had the grace and poise befitting her rank. Her scent, a subtle mix of lavender and vanilla, filled the space between us, but it did nothing to stir me. Not like Kalani’s had.

"Alpha," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly as she held the chalice out to me. "The night is deep. After we drink, we should rest."

I didn’t take the chalice right away. My eyes remained locked on her, studying her every move, every flicker of emotion on her face. She was nervous, though she tried to hide it. Good. She should be.

Finally, I reached out and took the chalice from her hands. The cool metal pressed against my palm, and for a moment, I hesitated. But only for a moment. I raised it to my lips, my eyes never leaving hers, and drank. The wine was bitter, but I swallowed it without a flinch.

Angelica followed suit, her movements graceful and deliberate. As she drank, I couldn’t help but think of Kalani. Of how she would have laughed at this, at the absurdity of it all. How she would have rolled her eyes and called me a fool. But Kalani was gone, and Angelica was here, standing before me, her scent mingling with the heavy air of the room.

When the chalice was empty, Angelica set it aside and turned to me, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for my waist. "Alpha," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Let me serve you."

Her fingers brushed against my skin, and I felt a surge of something—anger, perhaps, or disgust—rise within me. I didn’t move, didn’t stop her as she began to undo the clasp of my belt. But I didn’t help her either.

I stood there, motionless, as her hands worked. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t Kalani’s touch. Kalani’s hands had been rough from years of hard work, but they had always been warm, always comforting. Angelica’s hands were soft, delicate, but they left me cold.

As she leaned closer, her scent grew stronger, overwhelming. My wolf stirred within me, a low growl of disapproval echoing in the back of my mind. I ignored it, my gaze fixed on the wall ahead, my thoughts drifting back to that night—the night Kalani had been taken from me.

"Alpha," Angelica’s voice broke through my thoughts, soft and pleading. Her hands were on my chest now, her breath hot against my skin. "Please, let me…"

I looked down at her, my expression unreadable. She was beautiful, yes, but beauty meant nothing to me. Not anymore. Not after losing Kalani.

"You don’t understand," I said, my voice cold, detached. "This isn’t about you. It never was."

Her eyes widened, confusion and fear flickering in their depths. "Alpha, I—"

"Enough," I cut her off, my voice sharp. "You’ve done your part. Now leave."

She hesitated, her hands still on my chest, her body trembling. But when I didn’t move, didn’t soften my expression, she finally stepped back, her face pale, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Alpha," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I’m sorry."

I didn’t respond. I just turned away, my gaze fixed on the window, on the darkness outside. She stood there for a moment longer, her presence lingering in the room like a ghost. But eventually, she left, her footsteps soft against the floor.

When the door closed behind her, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The room was silent, the air heavy with the weight of everything I’d lost. And for the first time in a long time, I felt truly alone.

"Kalani," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Where are you?"

But there was no answer. Only the silence, and the ache in my chest that never seemed to go away.

Angelica Burke awoke late, the morning sun already high in the sky. Savannah, her loyal Omega, was quick to attend to her, smoothing out the creases in her elegant dress.

“Congratulations, my Luna,” Savannah said with a sly smile, her eyes darting to the faint marks on Angelica’s neck. “The Alpha’s affection for you is clear. It’s only a matter of time before you bear his heir.”

Angelica’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, but it faltered as she frowned in confusion. “Last night… what exactly happened? I can’t seem to recall.”

Savannah knelt at her feet, her tone reassuring. “My Luna, you’ve never been one for drink. It’s no wonder you’re a little hazy. I stood guard outside your chamber all night. The Alpha only left at dawn, just before his morning meetings. He instructed us not to disturb you, saying you’d earned your rest.”

Angelica’s skepticism softened, though a flicker of doubt remained. “He really said that?”

“Of course, my Luna,” Savannah affirmed. “I would never lie to you. The Alpha holds you in high regard.”

A faint blush crept across Angelica’s cheeks as she let out a soft laugh. “My father was so worried that Ambrose would never get over that… that Omega. But now it’s clear that I’m far more important to him. He was only drawn to her because of their time in that rogue pack. With me by his side, he’ll forget she ever existed.”

Savannah was quick to agree. “That stray could never compare to you, my Luna. The Alpha is a man, after all, and what man doesn’t appreciate beauty? She was nothing more than a faded memory, not worthy of even a glance in your direction.”

I watched them from the shadows, my presence unseen but my emotions raw. Even in death, I couldn’t escape Angelica’s relentless comparisons. She had everything—the title, the position, Ambrose—yet she still felt the need to diminish me.

“Oh, one more thing,” Angelica said suddenly, her tone sharp. “Find out if that Omega had any family.”

I stiffened, my ghostly form trembling. At six years old, I’d been pulled from a pile of rogues. I had no memory of any family. Ambrose had been my world, my only comfort. But now, as the Alpha, he was surrounded by betas, warriors, and Angelica as his Luna. He wasn’t mine anymore.

Drifting alone through the pack’s territory, I’d grown lonely. So, when Angelica mentioned finding my family, a small part of me felt a flicker of hope.

“If you find them,” Angelica continued, her voice cold, “kill them all. I won’t tolerate any loose ends.”

My brief excitement evaporated, replaced by a chilling dread. If this was her plan, then I prayed she never found them. Though I’d never met them, I wished for their safety. They didn’t deserve to suffer because of me.

Angelica spent the morning waiting for Ambrose, her gaze frequently drifting to the door. “He should be done with his meetings by now,” she murmured, her impatience growing.

Savannah tried to soothe her. “My Luna, I’ve heard the Alpha is still in discussions with the betas.”

By midday, Ambrose still hadn’t arrived. Angelica sent a messenger to invite him for lunch, but he declined, citing pack responsibilities.

The table of meticulously prepared dishes was overturned in a fit of rage. Angelica sat in silence, her face a mask of frustration as Savannah attempted to console her.

I thought she might wait all day, but surprisingly, Angelica’s mood shifted. “The Alpha is a busy man,” she said, almost to herself. “It’s only natural.”

She retired to her bed, instructing Savannah, “If the Alpha comes, be sure to wake me.”

But as night fell, Ambrose never appeared.