"Should a mate who betrays the bond be given a second chance?" The question buzzed around the table as the women passionately debated it.

When it was my turn to respond, my answer was greeted with disbelief and mocking laughter.

"Carla, did you just say you wouldn’t give him a chance? Seriously?"

Their laughter rang out, making me the butt of their joke.

I just smiled along. The truth was well-known to everyone there.

In our pack, I had the reputation of being too forgiving.

Reflecting on this later, they would shudder at the realization that my version of a "second chance" was unlike theirs.

As I stood up to leave, their snide comments followed me, unabated.

"Can you believe she claimed she wouldn’t give him a chance? It’s ridiculous!"

"Exactly! She has no family, didn’t even complete her studies, yet she became the Luna of the Jensen Pack, and after five years still hasn’t borne the Alpha an heir. Does she really think she can deny George Jensen anything?"

"She’s practically out of the pack already! George doesn’t even pretend to care about her. If it weren’t for Alpha Francis’s obsession with appearances, she’d have been cast out ages ago!"

"The only reason she’s still here is because she knows how to stay out of trouble. That’s why they call her the Mud Buddha!"

They didn’t worry about repercussions if I overheard.

This was a Jensen Pack event, after all. I was the Luna present.

Their mates all relied on George’s favor. Yet they perceived themselves as superior to me.

Because everyone knew: my mate George didn’t love me.

I ignored their words, maintaining the decorum expected of the Jensen Pack’s Luna, smiling politely at every guest.

Today marked the groundbreaking of Jensen Pharmaceuticals’ new facility, drawing many loyal clients and business partners.

Alpha Francis had made it abundantly clear: nothing was more important than the pack’s reputation. Anyone who damaged it would face serious consequences.

Yes, even in the modern world, the powerful Jensen Pack of Frost City adhered to its own strict internal hierarchy.

Just then, a ripple of greetings from the doorway caught my attention.

My mate, George Jensen, had arrived.

His Beta, Jazlyn Carpenter, was with him.

The two were dressed in matching white outfits, adorned with ceremonial corsages.

Together, they strolled into the room, side by side, like a newly bonded pair at their celebration.

"Beta George."

"Beta Jazlyn."

The room echoed with greetings, all eager and respectful.

"Beta Jazlyn, it’s been a while!"

The women nearby stood, beaming, inviting her over.

Jazlyn acknowledged them with graceful poise, her smile as charming as ever.

As she approached me, she paused, her voice laced with polite condescension:

"Luna Carla, I apologize. Beta George was delayed speaking with city officials. I should have given him a reminder earlier; sorry for any inconvenience."

I shook my head quickly, smiling.

"No, no, pack matters come first. You both must be exhausted. Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat."

"We’ve already eaten, no need to trouble yourself," she responded sweetly, then added, "Oh, there’s one thing... I parked in a hurry and blocked the exit. I don’t trust just anyone to move my car. Could you do me a favor and park it for me?"

She looked at me, her smile perfectly poised.

The room suddenly fell silent as pack members, whether consciously or not, turned their gazes toward us. Feeling their curious eyes, I nodded meekly.

"Of course."

George Jensen stood off to the side, his expression detached and indifferent. Naturally, he wasn’t going to say anything. After all, he’d known her longer, and their relationship was deeper.

Jazlyn Carpenter, at thirty-two, was two years older than George. They had trained together in the pack’s warrior program. As his Beta, she was sharp and competent, mature and composed, holding more decision-making power in the pack than even the Gamma. As his lover, she was discreet, modest, and courteous, yet intimately, she kept George utterly captivated. A woman like her was an imposing presence compared to a Luna like me—just an ornamental figure with no real skills, or so they thought.

When I returned from parking the car and handed the keys to Jazlyn, she was settled on the sofa, her smile glowing as she chatted with my mother-in-law. Adalee Perry, a former Healer, prided herself on her sophistication. She found household management dreadfully mundane and never lifted a finger for such tasks. Consequently, she looked down on me, who dealt with these matters, never showing me such a pleasant demeanor.

"Thank you, Luna," Jazlyn remarked breezily, not even glancing at me, her tone as casual as if speaking to an Omega servant.

George sat nearby with his legs crossed, frowning slightly. "Why so slow? The pack is all here, and you’re leaving them unattended. Is that how a Luna behaves?"

Having taken over his father’s role as Beta for a year, he already exuded the authority and presence of a leader. I pressed my lips together and replied softly, "I ran into a guest outside and exchanged a few words. I thought since you were here—"

Adalee made a disapproving sound, cutting me off impatiently: "George is already exhausted from managing the pack, and he has to handle this too? You’re just lazy, and omegas have no place here!"

She always gestured dramatically when irritated, and this time, her red wine splashed onto her white leather high heels. An Omega maid hurried over with a towel to wipe it up. Adalee glanced at her shoes and then at me, irate as she said, "You do it!"

I bent down at her feet, carefully cleaning the shoes. George remained silent, and Jazlyn wore a smirk. Nearby, judgmental eyes watched.

"The Luna is too submissive, crushed under the weight of her mate’s mistress and his family. Being a Luna in such a prominent pack can’t be easy!"

"Exactly, asked to clean shoes at a whim. They say the Luna of the Jensen Pack is a pushover, and it seems they’re right."

"Shh! Be careful, if the Jensens hear you, they’ll exile you like last time."

The whispers stung, but I kept my head down, my wolf stirring faintly in the back of my mind. She growled softly, a sound only I could hear. *Patience,* I told her. *Our time will come.*

For now, I played the part they expected of me—the meek, obedient Luna who knew her place. But deep down, I knew the truth. They underestimated me, and that would be their downfall.

The evening air was thick with tension as I stood in the study, carefully organizing the gifts from the pack members who had attended the gathering earlier. The clinking of glass and the faint hum of conversation from downstairs reached my ears, but I focused on the task at hand, my fingers trembling slightly as I locked the safe. The maid’s voice interrupted my thoughts, her tone respectful yet urgent.

"Luna, the Alpha requests your presence in the main hall for a pack meeting."

I nodded, smoothing down the hem of my dress before making my way downstairs. The grand hall of the Jensen Pack estate was already filled with the pack’s hierarchy. Francis Jensen, our Alpha, sat at the head of the room, his broad shoulders and commanding presence impossible to ignore. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his aura radiating authority. To his left sat George, my mate and the pack’s Beta, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. Beside him was Dalton, George’s younger brother and a Delta warrior, his cheerful smile a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere.

To the Alpha’s right sat Adalee, George’s mother and a former Healer of the pack. Her eyes were red, her face twisted with indignation as if she had been crying. The faint scent of her distress mingled with the lingering aroma of the evening’s feast, making the air feel heavy.

"Carla," Francis said, his voice deep and steady, "take a seat."

I obeyed, settling into the chair beside George. The room fell silent, the weight of the Alpha’s gaze pressing down on all of us. Francis leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

"When I first took on the mantle of Alpha, this pack was fractured, its strength diminished," he began, his voice carrying the weight of a leader who had seen both triumph and hardship. "Do you know what I relied on to rebuild it?"

"Loyalty and discipline," George answered promptly, his tone deferential.

"Exactly," Francis said, his eyes narrowing as he turned to Adalee. "And yet, today, you’ve brought shame upon this pack. How could you treat Carla, your Luna, with such disrespect in front of the others? Do you not understand the consequences of your actions?"

Adalee flinched, her head bowing slightly. "Alpha, I acted impulsively. I didn’t mean for it to go so far. I didn’t think she would—"

"Enough!" Francis’s voice boomed, the Alpha tone reverberating through the room. Even George stiffened beside me, his usual casual demeanor slipping. "You’ve embarrassed not just Carla but this entire pack. When I first arrived in this city, it was Carla’s grandfather who took me in, who helped me establish this pack. Would any of us be here today without his generosity? You will face the consequences of your actions, as is our way."

Adalee’s shoulders shook with quiet sobs, but she didn’t dare argue further. The Jensen Pack had strict traditions, one of which was the use of physical labor as a form of penance. The scent of coffee beans lingered in the air, a reminder of the pack’s origins in the organic health industry. Misbehaving pack members were often tasked with grinding coffee beans for hours, their arms aching the next day as a reminder of their mistakes.

"Alpha," George interjected, his voice calm but laced with a subtle plea, "Mother is getting older. Surely we can let this slide?"

"Absolutely not," Francis said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "Discipline is the foundation of this pack. Without it, we are nothing."

Adalee wiped her tears, her voice trembling. "But Alpha, I have a performance at the orphanage next week. How can I play the piano if my arms are sore? It’s for the pack’s charity work."

Francis hesitated, his expression softening slightly. Dalton, ever the peacemaker, spoke up.

"Alpha, perhaps an exception can be made this time?"

I remained silent, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. The room’s attention shifted to me, and I could feel the weight of their expectations. Francis turned to me, his gaze gentle but firm.

"Carla," he said, his tone quieter now, "would you be willing to take on this punishment for your mother-in-law?"

The room held its breath, waiting for my response. I glanced at Adalee, her eyes pleading, then at George, whose expression was unreadable. Finally, I met Francis’s gaze, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

"Of course, Alpha," I said. "For the pack."