Sarah POV:

The "Charity Gala" was being held on the pack's private river cruise ship. It was a display of wealth and power, intended to show the neighboring packs that the Darkmoon Pack was thriving despite the recent "tragedy" of the future Luna.

I stood on the upper deck, gripping the railing. The wind whipped my hair across my face, stinging my eyes.

Below, on the main deck, the party was in full swing. Crystal chandeliers tinkled in the breeze. Waiters circulated with champagne.

Marcus was in the center of the crowd, holding a glass of wine. Rachel was beside him, not as a date—that would be too obvious—but as the "organizer." She wore a red dress that was cut low enough to be scandalous.

I saw Marcus tap his glass with a spoon. The music stopped.

"Friends, family," Marcus boomed, his Alpha voice projecting effortlessly. "Tonight is about the future. And speaking of the future..."

He gestured to the side. Oliver, dressed in a miniature tuxedo, ran out.

The crowd murmured.

"This young man," Marcus said, placing a hand on the boy's head, "has shown incredible potential. Tonight, I am bestowing upon him the Young Wolf's Dagger."

He pulled a ceremonial dagger from a velvet cloth. It was an ancient artifact, traditionally given only to the Alpha's direct heir.

The crowd gasped. Giving this to an orphan? It was a declaration of intent so loud it shattered eardrums.

I turned away. I reached into my purse and pulled out a small bundle of letters. They were the love letters Marcus had written me when we were teenagers. Before the power corrupted him. Before Rachel.

I flicked my lighter. The flame danced in the wind.

I held the corner of the paper to the fire. It caught instantly. I watched the ink curl and blacken, the promises of "forever" turning to ash. I let them go, watching the burning embers drift down into the dark water of the river.

"Dramatic, aren't we?"

I spun around.

Rachel stood there. But before I could speak, her body contorted. Bones cracked and reshaped. In seconds, a reddish-brown wolf stood on the deck.

She didn't shift fully—just enough to be terrifying. She stood on her hind legs, towering over me, her claws extended.

"No wolf," she growled, her human voice distorted by her shifting vocal cords. "Wolfless freak."

She shoved me.

I stumbled back, hitting the railing. Without my wolf's strength, I was frail. My head cracked against the metal.

"You don't belong here," she hissed, stepping closer. She grabbed my arm, her claws digging into the burn scars.

I cried out. The pain was blinding.

"Marcus doesn't want you," she sneered. "He pities you. You're just a placeholder until the ceremony is over."

"At least I didn't have to trap him with a lie," I spat back, adrenaline giving me courage.

Rachel roared. She swiped at me, her claws tearing the sleeve of my dress.

Then, hearing footsteps on the stairs, she suddenly threw herself backward.

She slammed into the railing and flipped over it, clinging to the edge with one hand, screaming.

"Help! She's crazy! She's trying to kill me!"

Marcus burst onto the deck, followed by a dozen guests.

He saw me standing there, breathing hard, my dress torn. He saw Rachel dangling over the dark water.

"Sarah!" he roared.

He didn't ask what happened. He didn't look at my bleeding arm.

He rushed past me and hauled Rachel up. She collapsed into his arms, shifting back to human form, naked and shivering, sobbing theatrically.

"She tried to push me," Rachel wailed, burying her face in his chest. "She said I was trying to steal you!"

Marcus turned to me. His eyes were glowing red—the sign of an enraged Alpha.

"Is this true?" he demanded.

"No," I said calmly. "She attacked me."

"Liar!" Rachel screamed. "Look at her! She's jealous! She's insane!"

Marcus took a step toward me. The air grew heavy.

"SUBMIT!"

He used the Alpha Voice.

It hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled. I collapsed onto the hard deck, my forehead slamming against the wood. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. The command forced me into a posture of total submission.

It was the ultimate humiliation. An Alpha using the Voice on his injured, wolfless mate in front of strangers.

"You are a disgrace," Marcus spat, looking down at me with pure disgust. "Get her out of my sight. Lock her in her room until the ceremony."

Two guards grabbed my arms and dragged me away.

I didn't fight. I didn't cry.

As they dragged me down the stairs, I looked back at Marcus comforting Rachel.

Two days, I told myself. Just survive.

Sarah POV:

The morning of the Marking Ceremony dawned gray and cold.

I stood outside the pack house, a small suitcase at my feet. The wind bit through my thin coat.

"You're actually leaving?"

I turned. Marcus's mother, the former Luna, stood on the porch. She held a cup of steaming coffee, looking warm and comfortable.

"I thought this is what you wanted," I said. "I'm going to the secluded cabin in the North Woods to 'recover.' Isn't that the story?"

"It's for the best," she sniffed, looking at me with disdain. "You can't expect Marcus to be tied to a barren mule. We need strong bloodlines. Oliver is a prodigy. You... you are a tragedy."

"A tragedy you helped create," I said quietly.

She narrowed her eyes. "Watch your tone, Omega. Be grateful we aren't exiling you completely."

A black SUV pulled up. It wasn't a pack car. It was a rental I had booked under a fake name.

Marcus came out of the house. He was on the phone, looking stressed.

"Yes, I'm signing the territory transfer now... It's Rachel's dowry, effectively... Yes, the Council approved it."

He hung up and looked at me. For a second, just a second, his expression wavered. He looked at my suitcase, then at my face.

"The cabin is stocked," he said stiffly. "I'll come visit... after the ceremony. Once things settle down."

"Don't bother," I said.

"Sarah, don't be difficult. This is hard for everyone."

"Hard?" I laughed, a dry, brittle sound. "You're marrying your mistress and legitimizing your son. I'm being shipped off to the woods like a sick dog. Yes, Marcus, it's very hard for you."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "It's our mating ceremony, Sarah. In a way. I'm doing this to protect the pack. To protect us. You'll always be my first choice."

"Your first choice," I repeated. "Right."

I opened the car door.

"Say goodbye to Oliver for me," I said.

"He's with the nanny," Marcus said dismissively.

I got in. The driver, a man in a cap and sunglasses, nodded at me in the rearview mirror. It was a Winterbane warrior in disguise.

As the car pulled away, I watched Marcus in the side mirror. He stood there, growing smaller and smaller, surrounded by his parents and his lies.

We drove for an hour in silence. We crossed the pack boundary line.

As soon as we crossed that invisible barrier, something happened.

Deep in my chest, in the hollow space where my wolf used to be, I felt a flutter.

It was faint. Like the heartbeat of a bird. But it was there.

My hand flew to my chest.

"Everything okay, Ma'am?" the driver asked.

"I... I think so," I whispered.

The silver suppresses the wolf. It kills the connection. But my wolf... she was a fighter. She hadn't died. She had gone into a deep coma to survive the pain.

And now that I was away from the Alpha who had tried to kill her, away from the toxicity of the Darkmoon Pack, she was stirring.

I looked out the window at the passing trees.

Marcus thought he had destroyed me. He thought I was gone.

But as the car sped toward the freedom of the North, I knew one thing for certain.

The Luna he broke was about to become his worst nightmare.

"Drive faster," I told the warrior.

"Yes, Luna," he replied.

I smiled. It was the first real smile I had worn in years.

Marcus POV:

The Grand Hall of the Darkmoon Pack was suffocating.

Thousands of white lilies had been arranged around the dais, their scent thick and cloying. It was supposed to be romantic, but to my wolf, it smelled like a funeral.

I tugged at the collar of my ceremonial tuxedo. The fabric felt like a noose.

"Stop fidgeting," my mother hissed from beside me. "The Alphas from the Eastern territories are watching. You look like a nervous pup."

"I am not nervous," I snapped, my voice dropping an octave. My Alpha aura flared, a wave of dominance that made the nearby servers stumble. "I am impatient."

It was time. The Marking Ceremony. The moment I would officially claim Rachel and secure my legacy through Oliver.

But first, I needed Sarah.

I had sent my Beta, Thomas, to collect her from the cabin. She was to sit in the front row. It was cruel, perhaps, but necessary. The pack needed to see her submission. They needed to see the former Luna bow her head to the new order. It was the only way to stop the whispers about my legitimacy.

I checked my watch. They were twenty minutes late.

"Where is she?" Rachel whispered, sidling up to me. She looked stunning in a white silk gown that hugged her curves, but her scent was spiked with anxiety. "If she doesn't show up, people will think she's protesting."

"She has no wolf to protest with," I muttered. "She has no choice."

Just then, the heavy oak doors at the back of the hall banged open.

The music stopped. The chatter of three hundred guests died instantly.

Thomas stood in the doorway. He was usually the picture of composure, a warrior built of granite and discipline. Now, he was pale, his chest heaving, his dress uniform covered in dust.

He didn't walk. He stumbled toward the dais.

A cold dread coiled in my stomach. My wolf, usually dormant these past few days, paced restlessly in my mind.

"Alpha," Thomas gasped, falling to one knee at the foot of the stairs.

"Speak," I commanded. The word vibrated with power, echoing off the stone walls.

"The transport," Thomas choked out. "We found it near the Northern border. Just past the Grey Ridge."

"Is she late? Did the engine fail?" I demanded, stepping down the stairs.

"No, Alpha." Thomas looked up. His eyes were haunted. "Ambush. Rogues. Dozens of them."

He pulled a tablet from his jacket and held it up.

The image on the screen burned into my retinas.

It was the black SUV I had rented for her. Or what was left of it. It was a twisted skeleton of metal, engulfed in flames. The surrounding snow was stained black with soot and red with blood.

"No," I whispered.

"The driver is dead," Thomas reported, his voice trembling. "Torn apart. And the passenger seat... Alpha, there was so much blood. The scent was stale, but it was hers."

"Liar!" I roared.

I snatched the tablet and smashed it against the stone floor. Glass shattered, skittering across the polished marble like diamonds.

"She is alive!" I bellowed. The force of my voice cracked the champagne flute in a guest's hand nearby. "She is just playing games! She wants to ruin this day!"

I closed my eyes and slammed my mental walls down, focusing all my energy on the Mind-Link. This is the telepathic bond that connects every wolf in the pack to their Alpha. It is usually a hum of voices, a hive mind of emotions.

Sarah, I pushed the thought out, screaming it into the void. Sarah, answer me!

Silence.

Not the silence of someone ignoring a call. It was the silence of a severed wire. A dead line.

There was no static. No faint heartbeat. Just a cold, abyssal nothingness where her presence used to be.

"Marcus," Rachel said, reaching for my arm. "Baby, please. Everyone is watching."

I spun on her, a growl ripping from my throat. My control was fraying. The beast inside me was clawing at the bars of my sanity.

"She is gone," I said, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

"It... it's a tragedy," Rachel stammered, her eyes darting to the crowd. "But we must continue. For the pack. For Oliver. We can't let the Rogues win by stopping the ceremony."

I looked at her. Really looked at her.

My mate—my chosen mate—was standing there, talking about a party while the woman I grew up with was burning in a ditch.

"Continue?" I asked softly.

"Yes," Rachel urged, her hand tightening on my bicep. "We need to show strength. Sarah... Sarah was weak. This is just nature taking its course."

My wolf slammed against my ribcage.

Nature?

I looked at the shattered tablet on the floor. I looked at the terrified guests.

And for the first time in three years, I felt a crack in the foundation of my own arrogance.