I’ve always known where I stood in this family.

From the moment my sister Freya and I were brought into the Norman pack’s home, the distinction was made clear. Freya was their miracle child, the one who, by some cosmic twist of fate, resembled their lost biological daughter. They lavished her with love and paraded her as the Norman family's rightful heir, their precious second chance.

And me? I was just… there.

They didn’t say it outright, but the way they treated me spoke louder than words. To the outside world, I was the adopted stray they took pity on. I was the extra, the mistake, the shadow that always lingered behind Freya's dazzling light.

I thought I had grown used to it. The subtle digs, the indifferent gazes, the way everyone—from my so-called parents to the pack members—acted like I didn’t matter. But tonight, as I sat at the dining table, I realized it still stung.

“Aria,” Freya’s voice sliced through the awkward silence like a blade. Her tone was saccharine, but her words dripped with condescension. “Do you even care about this family? We’ve been waiting for you for hours, and you waltz in here as if nothing happened.”

I lifted my gaze to meet hers, forcing my expression to remain neutral. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Freya smirked, the kind of smirk that made my blood boil. She thrived on these moments—moments where she could paint me as the careless, disrespectful sister while she played the role of the perfect daughter.

“You’re always like this,” she continued, feigning exasperation. “I don’t know how you can be so thoughtless, especially to Mom and Dad. Have you no respect for them?”

I didn’t respond. There was no point. Arguing with Freya was like trying to howl at the moon and expecting it to howl back.

Dave, ever the knight in shining armor, stepped in to defend her. “Don’t be upset, Freya. Aria didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t argue with her.”

His words were like a dagger to my chest, twisting and tearing at my already fragile composure. He didn’t even glance at me—his focus was entirely on her.

It wasn’t the first time.

I’d seen the messages. Hundreds of them, hidden away in a private account he thought I’d never find. Messages filled with declarations of love for Freya, with promises to protect her, to always be there for her. Messages that painted a picture of a life they were building together—without me.

The betrayal cut deeper than I thought possible. Dave wasn’t just my mate; he was supposed to be my partner, my other half, the one who would stand by my side against the world. Instead, he had been plotting a future with my sister, the very person who had spent her life ensuring I stayed in her shadow.

“Aria,” my father’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. His tone was curt, as always. “Sit down. You should be grateful to have someone like Dave by your side. He’s done so much for this family.”

I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to lash out. Grateful? For what? For a mate who spent more time holding my sister’s hand under the table than he did looking at me? For a family that treated me like a guest in my own home?

But I swallowed my pride and obeyed.

As I sat down, my gaze flickered to Dave. He was smiling, basking in the praise of my parents. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. His hand, subtly reaching under the table to clasp Freya’s.

The lump in my throat threatened to choke me. I wanted to scream, to confront them both, to demand answers. But I didn’t. Instead, I forced myself to pick up my fork and take a bite of the meal in front of me.

Soon.

That word became my anchor, the only thing keeping me grounded. Soon, I would be free of this place, of these people who had done nothing but suffocate me. The ship would be ready in a few days, and then I could disappear, leaving them to their perfect little lives.

---

The next morning, Dave woke me with a kiss. His lips brushed against mine, and I flinched, pulling away instinctively.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with faux concern.

I forced a smile, trying to mask the disgust bubbling beneath the surface. “Nothing. Just startled, that’s all.”

His smile returned, bright and carefree. “Don’t forget, we’re supposed to go try on wedding outfits today. Only a week left until the big day!”

I nodded numbly, the reality of the situation sinking in. A week. That was all the time I had left before I became his wife in name only.

Dave leaned in, wrapping his arms around me. “I can’t wait to call you my wife. I’ve been dreaming of this day for so long.”

I felt bile rise in my throat. Dreaming of what? Marrying me, or using me as a stepping stone to stay close to Freya?

But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I let him hold me, counting the seconds until I could pull away.

---

As the day wore on, the weight of the situation pressed down on me. Every moment with Dave felt like a reminder of his betrayal, of the lies he had spun so effortlessly.

And Freya? She was everywhere. Every detail of the wedding seemed designed to revolve around her. The colors she liked, the flowers she preferred, even the music—it was as if I didn’t exist.

But that was nothing new.

From the moment we were adopted, Freya had made it clear that there wasn’t room for two daughters in this family. She sabotaged me at every turn, framing me for things I didn’t do, twisting every situation to make herself look better. And my parents believed her every time.

As I stood in front of the mirror that evening, staring at the dress Dave had picked for me, a thought struck me.

Why had I spent so long trying to please people who didn’t care about me?

I turned away from the mirror, my resolve hardening.

In a week, they would all get the surprise of their lives.

I wasn’t going to stand in Freya’s shadow anymore.

I was going to step into the light—and leave them all behind.

As I stared at Dave’s smiling face, I wondered if his happiness was genuine or a carefully crafted illusion. Was he truly excited about marrying me, or did the sight of my sister, Freya, light up his world in ways I never could?

The faint scent of betrayal clung to the air, mingling with his otherwise familiar musk—a sharp reminder that something wasn’t right.

When I arrived at the pack seamstress’ shop, my stomach churned. The scene waiting for me confirmed my worst fears.

Freya, my sister in name but my rival in spirit, stood before the mirror draped in my Luna gown. The shimmering silver threads caught the light, casting an ethereal glow around her. It was meant to be a symbol of my union with the future Alpha, Dave, and my ascension to Luna of the Crescent Moon Pack.

Instead, it looked like Freya was already claiming the title.

She twirled, her golden hair catching the light, a radiant smile on her face. Every inch of her screamed perfection. But to me, she was poison wrapped in silk.

Dave stood beside her, his amber eyes glowing faintly. The bond between mates should have tied his gaze to me, but his attention was wholly focused on Freya.

“Wow, Freya,” he said, his voice laced with awe. “You look breathtaking.”

Freya let out a soft laugh, her voice melodic and sweet. “Oh, Dave, I just wanted to see how it felt. This dress is magnificent. It feels like it was made for me.”

I stepped forward, my claws instinctively extending ever so slightly beneath my skin. I clenched my fists, reigning in my wolf. She stirred uneasily, her instincts screaming to assert dominance, but I forced her back down.

“Have you worn it long enough?” I asked, my voice cold and clipped. “Take it off.”

Freya turned toward me, her emerald eyes widening in mock surprise. “Aria, I didn’t realize you’d be upset. I was just trying it on. You know I’ve always looked up to you.”

Her words dripped with false innocence. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Dave stepped forward, his presence looming, though his expression remained calm. “It’s not a big deal, Aria,” he said, his voice soft and placating. “She’s your sister. It’s her first time trying it on. You should be more understanding.”

Understanding. That word rang hollow in my ears.

I turned my gaze to him, my wolf surging forward momentarily. He flinched ever so slightly as my eyes flickered with the golden hue of my wolf’s presence. “You don’t understand what this dress means to me,” I said, my voice low and steady.

But I didn’t want to argue—not here, not now.

I shifted my focus back to Freya, who stood there with her head tilted in mock submission. She had always been good at pretending to yield while stealing everything I worked for.

“You can have it,” I said flatly, turning on my heel.

Freya blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Wait, really?” she asked, her tone laced with disbelief.

Without answering, I walked out of the shop, my wolf snarling in my chest.

---

Dave caught up with me outside, grabbing my wrist. His touch, once comforting, now felt suffocating.

“Aria, wait,” he said, his voice full of concern. “What’s wrong? Are you angry? Don’t be upset, darling. It’s just a dress. I’ll—”

I pulled my hand free, my claws itching to extend. “I’m fine,” I said, cutting him off. “Go back and finish with the seamstress. You can choose whatever dress you like.”

His brows furrowed, but the moment passed quickly. A smile spread across his face. “I knew you’d understand,” he said.

I watched as he returned to the shop, his steps light, his focus already back on Freya. My stomach churned, but I forced myself to remain calm.

As I turned to leave, I caught one last glimpse of them through the window. Dave leaned close to Freya, whispering something that made her laugh. The sight made my wolf snarl, a deep growl rumbling in my chest.

I took a deep breath, forcing her down. Soon, I reminded myself. Soon, this will all be over.

---

That evening, as I sat in my room, the glow of my phone illuminated Freya’s latest post.

A photo of her in my Luna gown stared back at me.

The caption read: “This dress feels like it was made for me. I can’t wait for my turn to shine.”

Beneath the post were dozens of comments from pack members.

“Freya, you look stunning! Are you next in line for a mating ceremony?”

“Such a perfect fit! You’d make a wonderful Luna someday.”

My claws extended, slicing through the soft wood of my bedside table.

She wasn’t just stealing my dress—she was planting the idea in the pack’s mind that she was the rightful Luna.

My wolf stirred again, furious and restless. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, she growled.

But I knew better than to lash out now. Timing was everything. The night of the full moon was approaching, and with it, the perfect opportunity to sever every tie that bound me to this pack and these people.

I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

For now, I would wait.

And when the moment came, I would make them regret underestimating me.

The moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting thin silver lines across the wooden floor. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my body heavy with exhaustion. The weight in my chest pressed down harder than usual tonight.

Dave was in the bathroom, the sound of running water muffled by the closed door. I should have been asleep, but how could I? Every breath felt like it scraped against my ribs.

Then, the faint buzz of a phone broke through the quiet.

I turned my head slowly toward the sound. Dave's phone lit up on the nightstand, casting a soft glow in the dark room. I wasn't the type to invade privacy, and Dave knew that. He had always counted on me to trust him without question.

But tonight... something in me cracked.

I shifted carefully, making sure the sheets didn’t rustle, and reached for his phone. The screen still glowed, the preview of a message hanging in the air like a warning.

"My Luna "

The contact name froze me in place.

No.

Not "Luna" in the way a pack honors its Alpha female. This was personal. Intimate.

My thumb hovered over the message. One more breath, and I tapped it open.

Images loaded slowly, but the second I saw them, my breath caught in my throat.

Clara.

Dressed in silk and lace, sprawled across a bed that wasn’t hers. Her lips curled in a playful smirk, eyes half-lidded in that practiced, seductive way.

"Come to me, love. I need you tonight."

I nearly dropped the phone.

My stomach turned, bile creeping up my throat.

The wedding was days away, and here they were, baring their betrayal like it was nothing.

I wanted to scream. To break the phone, to confront him, to tear this entire room apart. But the weight of it all pressed me down.

The bathroom door creaked open.

I quickly set the phone back on the nightstand, rolling over to face the wall, feigning sleep.

Dave stepped out, toweling off his hair, the scent of mint and pine soap lingering behind him. He paused, his eyes scanning me for any sign that I was awake.

Satisfied, he reached for his phone.

I listened to the faint taps of his fingers as he typed.

"Can't tonight, babe. She's still up. Tomorrow?"

Bile burned the back of my throat.

Her reply was instant.

"Don't be like that, Dave. I miss you. Remember how good we were last night?"

I clenched the sheets in my fists, forcing my breathing to remain steady.

His chuckle was low and soft.

"Tomorrow, I promise. She’s dead asleep by then."

Dead.

That word sent a shiver down my spine.

His footsteps moved closer to the bed. For a moment, I thought he'd lean in, maybe kiss my cheek like he used to. But he didn’t.

Instead, he grabbed his keys from the dresser.

He paused, then sent a message—this time to me.

"Emergency at the packhouse. Gotta check on it. Get some rest, beautiful."

Beautiful.

How many times had he called Clara that tonight?

The door clicked shut behind him.

And I was alone.

Utterly, devastatingly alone.

I sat up slowly, the cold air biting at my skin. My hands trembled as they ran through my hair.

This wasn’t just a one-time mistake. This had been happening—repeatedly, deliberately.

The bond between mates was sacred. Breaking it wasn’t just betrayal; it was treason of the soul.

I rose from the bed and crossed the room, every step feeling heavier than the last.

The moon stared down at me through the window, full and brilliant.

For once, it offered me no comfort.

I reached for my coat draped over the chair. My fingers grazed the small silver dagger tucked into the pocket. It wasn’t meant for killing—it was ceremonial, a symbol of severance.

And tonight, I intended to use it.

Not on him.

On the bond.

But not yet.

Not here.

I needed to be far from this place when I cut the thread that bound me to Dave. Somewhere no one could stop me.

Somewhere I could be free.

I grabbed my bag, already packed for the day I knew would come. My escape wasn’t going to be tomorrow or next week. It was now.

The Crescent Howl Pack wouldn’t miss me. Not the Alpha. Not the Luna. And certainly not Dave.

But they’d feel my absence when it was too late to matter.

And Clara…

She could have him.

Because when I returned, I wouldn’t come back as the quiet, obedient girl they cast aside.

No.

I’d come back as something far more dangerous.

And they’d all regret the day they underestimated me.