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.

I watched Dave’s figure disappear beyond the doorway, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if he could feel my eyes burning holes into his back. A bitter taste filled my mouth, something between regret and quiet rage. But I swallowed it down. What good would it do now?

Lying in the cold, empty bed, I stared at the ceiling as silent tears slipped down my cheeks. The pain wasn't sharp anymore—it had dulled into a constant, gnawing ache. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood and whispered into the darkness, "Dave, you can have it all. I’m done fighting for scraps."

Five days. That was all that stood between me and freedom. Five days until the cruise set sail.

I rose before the sun, driven by a restless energy that wouldn't let me sleep. I needed to finalize the last of the preparations. Once the ship arrived, I’d board without a backward glance. Morocco was the first stop—a territory far beyond our pack’s reach, untouched by Crescent Howl influence. It was a place I had always dreamed of visiting, somewhere I could finally breathe without feeling the weight of expectations crushing me.

Packing had been easy. I only took what mattered. The rest? Let them rot in this house filled with lies.

Dave came home earlier than usual. His presence felt suffocating, like a predator lurking just beyond my line of sight. I was folding the last of my clothes when he appeared in the doorway, watching me with that same disarming smile he used to wear so easily.

"Darling, you’re working too hard," he said, his tone soft, falsely warm. He stepped closer, gently taking my hand in his. "Once we’re married, you won’t need to lift a finger. I’ll handle everything. You just need to be happy."

I stared at him, wondering how many times he’d rehearsed that line. Did he whisper the same sweet lies to my sister?

I forced a small, tight-lipped smile and nodded slowly.

Marry him? That was never going to happen.

Looking at him now, all I felt was exhaustion. His smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore, but maybe it never had.

Then his phone rang. His expression shifted subtly, a flicker of irritation before he masked it with a grin.

"It’s from your family," he muttered, answering the call.

The voice on the other end was sharp, commanding. No warmth, no courtesy. "Today is the meeting between our families to finalize the wedding details. You need to be there."

A statement, not a request.

I clenched my jaw. Of course, they wouldn’t ask. They never did.

Dave hung up and gave me a look that was half-apology, half-dismissal. "We need to go."

I didn’t argue. Not because I agreed, but because I was tired of pretending that my opinion mattered to anyone in that family.

The restaurant they chose was nestled in the park, styled exactly how Clara liked it. Floral arrangements in soft pink hues, delicate lace tablecloths—it was her taste woven into every detail. It was supposed to be my engagement gathering, but Clara sat comfortably in the seat of honor, draped in a crimson cloak that shimmered against her pale skin.

Dave's parents practically hovered around her, fawning like she was already part of the family. I stood at the edge of it all, like an outsider crashing someone else’s celebration.

"Aria, if only you were as sweet and charming as Clara," Dave's mother sighed dramatically. "I always thought Dave should’ve ended up with someone like her. Such a blessing."

Her words slid off me like rain against stone. I’d heard them before, disguised in softer tones. Now they didn’t bother with disguises.

Clara leaned in, flashing a saccharine smile. "Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure Aria’s doing her best." She let out a soft, tinkling laugh. "But don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. That’s what sisters are for, right?"

Her voice dripped with honey, but the venom underneath was unmistakable.

Dave chuckled along, eyes lingering too long on her face. Not once did he glance at me.

I stared at them—at all of them—and felt nothing. Not anger, not sadness. Just a hollow, widening emptiness.

Once, Dave would have noticed my discomfort. Once, he would’ve found an excuse for us to leave early. Now he barely acknowledged I was there.

The air was stifling. I barely touched my drink, my appetite long gone.

Then, as if the universe mirrored my mood, rain began to pour outside.

Clara stood gracefully, her gown flowing like liquid fire, and Dave was immediately at her side. Without hesitation, he draped his jacket over her shoulders, shielding her from the cold.

He didn’t even glance at me.

I watched them walk into the rain together, his arm around her waist, their heads close in quiet conversation.

It was a gutting realization.

They weren’t hiding anymore.

They didn’t need to.

The rest of the family filed out, laughing under umbrellas. I stood there alone, the soft hum of the restaurant fading around me.

But this time, I didn’t cry.

No.

I was past tears.

Let them have their moment. Let them bask in their stolen happiness.

Because soon, I would be gone.

And when the moon rose again, the girl they thought they could break would be nothing but a shadow on the wind.

Let the storm come.

I would be ready.