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."

"Father!"

Dalton leapt to his feet, his voice sharp with defiance. The Alpha’s aura filled the room, thick and oppressive, making it hard to breathe. "This isn’t fair! Why should the Luna be punished in his place?"

Alpha Francis sighed heavily, his broad shoulders sagging under the weight of his decision. His towering frame, muscled and imposing, seemed to dominate the room. "I’ve given my word, and the pack’s laws cannot be broken. George has a pack meeting tomorrow, and Dalton, your patrol duties can’t be postponed. Only someone of your rank can handle this. Luna Carla, what do you think?"

I lifted my head slowly, meeting the Alpha’s gaze with a calm I didn’t feel. My wolf stirred uneasily in the back of my mind, a low growl of resentment. "It’s all right, Father," I said softly, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

He nodded, his expression softening with approval. "You’ve always been dependable. I knew from the start you were the right choice for our pack."

...

I was alone in the pack’s storage room, grinding herbs under the dim light, when Dalton appeared at the door. His presence was sudden, unexpected, and he carried a steaming bowl of ravioli in his hands. His muscular frame filled the doorway, his Delta warrior’s uniform clinging to his broad shoulders.

I smiled at him, though my wolf bristled with unease. "Dalton, what are you still doing up?"

He didn’t answer, his stormy gray eyes shadowed with concern. He set the bowl on the table and silently took the pestle from my hands, his fingers brushing mine. I froze, unsure of how to respond.

His jaw tightened, a flicker of anger crossing his sharp features. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice low and controlled. "Why are you always so calm? It’s not natural to never show any emotion. You can refuse. No one can force you, Luna."

"Dalton, you should leave. If the Alpha finds out, he’ll be furious." I forced a weak laugh, reaching for the pestle.

But he held onto it firmly, his grip unyielding. My wolf growled softly in my mind, a warning I couldn’t ignore.

"You’re not helping me; you’re making it worse! Remember the last time? Because you intervened, the Alpha punished me even more!" My voice cracked, the frustration spilling over.

Dalton paused, his eyes searching mine. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Sister-in-law, when the Alpha chose you as George’s mate, it was only because I was too young. Otherwise... otherwise..."

He trailed off, but his gaze was steady, intense.

My face flushed, my wolf snarling in protest. "What are you saying? Please, just go. If anyone sees us, it’ll only cause trouble."

He exhaled deeply, the sound heavy with unspoken emotions. "The butler told me you haven’t eaten today. I made this for you. Please, eat something."

With that, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the hall. The room felt emptier without his presence, and I stood there, the bowl of ravioli cooling in front of me, my wolf’s growl fading into a low, uneasy hum.