The afternoon sun streamed through the kitchen windows as I helped Dorothy prepare for tonight's Harvest Banquet. Her hands moved with practiced precision, chopping herbs with a rhythm that had become as familiar to me as my own heartbeat.

"Clara, dear, could you check the moonflower infusion?" Dorothy asked, her voice carrying a strange tension I couldn't quite place.

I nodded, moving to the small glass vials lined up on the counter. The kitchen smelled of sage and lavender—Dorothy's signature scents that had become synonymous with healing throughout our pack.

"Is everything alright?" I asked, noticing how she'd stopped mid-chop, her eyes fixed on something beyond the window.

Dorothy's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Just nerves, I suppose. The Harvest Banquet is always important."

She reached for a leather-bound journal hidden beneath a stack of towels, quickly tucking it into her apron pocket when the kitchen door swung open.

Andrew strode in, his Alpha aura filling the space with a suffocating pressure. Behind him trailed Eden, her Beta intern uniform perfectly pressed, a tray of rare herbs balanced in her hands.

"Mother, you're still working?" Andrew's voice held an edge of irritation. "You should be preparing for the ceremony."

"I'm almost done," Dorothy replied, her shoulders stiffening slightly.

Andrew's gaze shifted to me, his eyes narrowing. "Clara, you're in the way. Go check on the decorations or something."

I bit back a retort, feeling my wolf stir restlessly inside me. *He never speaks to you like that anymore,* she whispered. *Something's wrong.*

"Actually," I said, straightening my spine, "I'm helping Dorothy with the ceremonial herbs."

"It's fine, dear," Dorothy intervened, placing a gentle hand on my arm. "You should go rest before tonight."

But Andrew was already at Eden's side, examining her tray with exaggerated interest. "These moonshade blossoms are exquisite! Where did you find them?"

"Northern ridge," Eden replied, her voice honey-sweet. "I remembered you mentioning they'd enhance your... special touch."

The way she emphasized those words made my stomach twist. Andrew beamed at her, completely ignoring both Dorothy and me.

"Perfect for tonight's dish," he said, lifting one of the delicate purple petals. "My Golden Tongue creation will be legendary."

Dorothy's expression darkened momentarily. As Andrew led Eden away, discussing measurements and timing, Dorothy leaned close to me.

"Beware the wolf who smiles with too many teeth," she whispered, her eyes darting toward Eden's retreating form.

Before I could ask what she meant, Andrew returned, practically pulling his mother from the kitchen. "Come on, Mother. You need to change into your formal attire."

---

The banquet hall glittered with candlelight, the long tables adorned with autumn foliage and golden accents. Pack members mingled with visiting dignitaries, their excited chatter filling the space with anticipation.

I stood to the side, watching Andrew take center stage. He'd changed into his ceremonial Alpha robes, the silver embroidery catching the light as he gestured grandly toward the large silver pot on the main table.

"Tonight," he announced, his voice carrying across the hall, "we celebrate not just the harvest, but a new chapter for our pack!"

Murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd as he continued, "I have prepared a divine creation—a broth blessed by the Moon Goddess herself!"

My wolf stirred uneasily. *Something's wrong,* she insisted. *Our bond feels... strained.*

I pushed her concern aside, focusing on Andrew as he ladled the steaming liquid into an ornate bowl.

"This first serving," he declared, "goes to the woman who taught me everything I know—my mother, the former Luna!"

Applause erupted as Dorothy stepped forward, her smile gracious but tight. Andrew presented her with the bowl, his eyes gleaming with pride.

"To the Silver Moon Pack," he toasted, "and to my mother!"

Dorothy raised the bowl to her lips, her eyes meeting mine briefly. Something flickered there—warning? Fear?

She took a sip, then another. For a moment, everything was still.

Then her smile froze. The bowl slipped from her fingers, shattering against the stone floor. Dorothy's hands flew to her throat, her eyes wide with panic as foam gathered at her lips.

"Andrew!" I screamed, rushing forward. "Your mother—"

But he wasn't looking at her. A commotion near the servants' quarters had caught his attention.

"Clara's mother collapsed!" someone shouted.

Andrew's face paled. "What? My Luna's mother?"

He turned away from Dorothy's crumpled form, moving toward the disturbance. Eden suddenly clutched her chest, gasping dramatically.

"Eden!" Andrew caught her as she swayed, pulling her against him. "Someone help her!"

I knelt beside Dorothy, frantically checking her pulse. Her breathing came in ragged gasps, her skin ashen.

*Andrew!* I mind-linked him desperately. *It's your mother! She's dying!*

His response was a violent block, so forceful it sent a shock of pain through my temples.

"Stop being hysterical, Clara!" he snapped aloud, not even looking at us. "Deal with your own family!"

Dorothy's eyes locked with mine, her lips moving soundlessly. I leaned closer, catching her final breath as it rattled past her lips.

"Betrayal," she whispered, her gaze drifting past me to where Andrew comforted Eden.

And then she was gone.

The silence that followed Dorothy's final breath was deafening. I remained kneeling beside her body, my hands still clutching hers, unable to process what had just happened. The banquet hall had erupted into chaos—pack members shouting, glasses shattering, chairs scraping against stone floors.

"Clara's mother collapsed!" someone yelled again, and Andrew was already moving toward the commotion, Eden clutched dramatically against his chest.

I tried once more to mind-link him. *Andrew, please! It's your mother who's dying!*

His mental wall slammed against me, so violent I physically recoiled.

"Stop being hysterical," he snapped over his shoulder. "Deal with your own family!"

The servant's door creaked open then, and a familiar figure stepped through, carrying a pitcher of water. My mother—very much alive—looked confused by the uproar.

"What's happening?" she asked, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. "I was just getting fresh water for—"

The room fell silent. Utterly silent.

Andrew froze mid-step, his arm still around Eden. Slowly, he turned toward the figure on the floor—the figure I was still cradling in my lap.

"Mother?" he whispered, his face draining of color.

In that moment, I expected him to rush to Dorothy's side. To fall to his knees beside me. To show some semblance of the grief that was tearing me apart.

Instead, his expression hardened into something I'd never seen before—pure, calculating rage.

"You," he snarled, advancing toward me with such fury that several pack members stepped back. "You did this."

I stared up at him, bewildered. "What?"

"You confused me," he spat, towering over me. "You let me believe it was your mother who collapsed. You failed as a Healer!"

The accusation hit me like a physical blow. Behind him, Eden's eyes gleamed with something that looked disturbingly like satisfaction.

"I tried to tell you," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I mind-linked you—"

"And I blocked you because I was dealing with an emergency!" Andrew roared, his Alpha aura flaring so violently that nearby pack members winced. "An emergency you fabricated!"

He turned to the assembled crowd, his voice rising to carry to every corner of the hall. "My Luna has failed in her most basic duty. She couldn't even identify who needed help!"

Murmurs rippled through the pack. I felt their eyes on me—some pitying, others accusatory.

"Eden," Andrew said, his voice softening instantly as he turned to her, "you're clearly traumatized by this... this incompetence."

Eden nodded, her lower lip trembling perfectly. "I just want to help," she whispered. "Let me comfort you, Alpha."

---

Hours later, I found myself alone in the preparation chamber, gently washing Dorothy's body for the funeral rites. The pack elders had given me this task—perhaps as punishment, perhaps because no one else wanted it.

"You deserved better," I murmured, combing her silver hair with trembling fingers.

That's when I noticed it—a faint, sweet scent clinging to the foam that had dried at the corners of her mouth. It wasn't the metallic smell of death I'd expected. It was something else entirely.

I leaned closer, inhaling deeply. My wolf stirred within me, suddenly alert.

*What is it?* she asked.

I closed my eyes, calling upon the knowledge Dorothy had secretly taught me over the years—the advanced herbal lore she'd shared when Andrew wasn't around.

"Midnight Aconite," I whispered, my blood running cold. "A modified wolfsbane."

My fingers trembled as I examined the residue more carefully. The modification was subtle—someone had combined the wolfsbane with sweetbriar to mask its bitterness. But they hadn't accounted for the distinctive scent it left behind.

This wasn't natural heart failure. This was murder.

---

"Andrew," I said firmly, pushing open his office door without knocking.

He looked up from his desk, where he sat with Eden. A half-empty bottle of whiskey stood between them, two glasses catching the lamplight.

"What is it now, Clara?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation.

"I found something," I said, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. "Dorothy was poisoned."

Eden's hand flew to her throat. "Poisoned?"

"Midnight Aconite," I continued, watching her reaction carefully. "Modified wolfsbane. I found traces in the foam from her mouth."

Andrew's expression darkened. Before he could speak, Eden burst into tears.

"She's trying to frame me!" she sobbed, clinging to Andrew's arm. "Because she's jealous of us!"

"Clara," Andrew growled, rising from his chair. "Enough."

"Andrew, please," I begged. "Just listen—"

"SILENCE!"

His Alpha command hit me like a physical blow, forcing me back a step. My wolf whimpered in pain at the assault.

"You are forbidden from investigating further," he snarled, his eyes flashing gold with Alpha power. "You will return to the Healer's wing immediately."

"But—"

"You're confined there until further notice," he continued, each word hammering into me with the weight of his command. "Perhaps some time alone will remind you of your place."

Eden's tears vanished instantly, replaced by a small, triumphant smile as Andrew placed a protective arm around her shoulders.

As I turned to leave, defeated by his command, my wolf's voice echoed in my mind: *We will find the truth. No matter what it costs.*

The moonlight cast long shadows across the Alpha's study as I slipped through the door, my heart pounding against my ribs. Three days of confinement in the Healer's wing had left me restless, but it had also given me time to think. To plan.

Dorothy's journals. I needed them before Andrew destroyed them.

"We have to hurry," I whispered to my wolf, who prowled anxiously within me. "If he finds us here..."

*He won't,* she growled back. *We are quieter than he is careless.*

The study smelled of leather and whiskey—Andrew's scent had always dominated this space, but now I could detect something else. Fear. His fear.

I moved toward Dorothy's bookshelf, hidden behind a false panel in the far wall. My fingers traced the outline of the secret compartment, finding the small latch that would reveal her precious journals.

"Where is it?" A frantic voice made me freeze. "Where is that damn recipe?"

Andrew burst through the door, his eyes wild, his usually immaculate appearance disheveled. He didn't notice me crouched in the shadows as he tore through the bookshelves, tossing leather-bound volumes onto the floor.

"The Grief Tea," he muttered, ripping pages from a notebook. "The pack expects it at the funeral. Mother always made it, but I—" He stopped, running his hands through his hair. "I don't know how to make it without her notes."

I pressed myself against the wall, barely breathing. This was it—the confession of his fraud, spoken in his moment of panic.

"Eden says I need to show strength," he continued, talking to himself. "But how can I lead if I can't even perform the basic rituals?"

He yanked another journal from the shelf, flipping through it desperately. "Where is it? Where is the recipe?"

I watched as he tore through Dorothy's life's work, searching for the knowledge he should have possessed as Alpha. The knowledge he'd been stealing from her for years.

---

"Clara." Andrew's voice cut through the morning air like a blade. "Come with me."

I followed him to his office, my body still aching from yesterday's Alpha command. Eden sat perched on the edge of his desk, her fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder.

"You called for me, Alpha?" I kept my voice neutral, though my wolf snarled at the sight of them together.

"I need you to hand over my mother's Luna Amulet." Andrew extended his palm toward me. "Immediately."

The amulet hung heavy around my neck—Dorothy's final gift to me before she died. I touched it reflexively, feeling the ancient silver warm against my skin.

"Why?" I asked, though I already knew.

"Eden needs spiritual comfort during this trying time," he said, not meeting my eyes. "As the future Luna, she should wear it."

Eden's eyes gleamed with triumph as she leaned forward. "It would mean so much to me, Clara."

"No." The word escaped before I could stop it.

Andrew's face darkened. "What did you say?"

"I said no." I straightened my spine, clutching the amulet tighter. "This is Dorothy's amulet. It's sacred. It's not yours to give away."

"SACRED?" Andrew roared, his Alpha aura exploding outward. "YOU DARE SPEAK OF SACRED THINGS AFTER WHAT YOU'VE DONE?"

The force of his rage hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, but refused to fall.

"KNEEL!" he commanded, his Alpha voice reverberating through my bones.

Pain shot through my body as my knees buckled against my will. I fought against it, trembling with the effort to remain standing.

"Andrew," I gasped, "please—"

"KNEEL BEFORE YOUR ALPHA!" His voice cracked like thunder.

My legs gave out. I collapsed to the floor, the amulet digging into my palm as I clutched it desperately. Something inside me cracked—a hairline fracture in our mate bond that sent waves of agony through my chest.

Eden's soft laugh floated down from above. "Poor Clara. Still so defiant."

---

"Gamma Stone?" I knocked softly on Marcus's door, wincing at the pain in my bruised body.

The door opened, revealing the tall, imposing figure of our pack's head warrior. His eyes widened slightly at my appearance.

"Luna," he said, glancing over his shoulder before pulling me inside. "You shouldn't be here."

"I need your help," I whispered, pulling out the toxicology notes I'd hidden in my boot. "Dorothy was poisoned. I have proof."

Marcus examined the papers, his expression darkening. "These are serious accusations, Luna."

"I know." I swallowed hard. "And I think Eden did it."

He studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "Dorothy was good to me. Better than good."

Hope fluttered in my chest. "Will you help me?"

"I can't openly defy the Alpha," he said carefully. "But if you can prove Eden's involvement..."

"I need to leave the Pack House," I said quickly. "There's a Rogue herbalist who might have supplied the wolfsbane. If I could just—"

"Tomorrow night," Marcus interrupted. "During the border patrol shift change. I'll make sure the east gate is unguarded for exactly seven minutes."

He handed back my notes, his eyes hard with resolve. "Find your proof, Luna. For Dorothy."

As I turned to leave, he added quietly, "And be careful. The pack is watching."