The scent hit me first—rogue wolves. Their feral, unwashed odor carried on the night breeze, setting my inner wolf, Grace, on high alert.

"Olivia, behind you!" shouted Derek, one of our younger Delta wolves patrolling the border with me.

I spun around just as a massive gray wolf lunged from the shadows. His eyes gleamed with a wild hunger that sent ice through my veins. Not the typical territory dispute—these rogues wanted blood.

"Run back to the pack house!" I commanded Derek, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my throat. "Alert Ethan!"

As the young wolf sprinted away, I shifted instantly, my bones cracking and reforming as my Luna wolf emerged. Grace was strong—we'd trained for this—but as three more rogues slunk from the treeline, I knew we were outnumbered.

The first rogue attacked, teeth snapping inches from my throat. I dodged and countered, my jaws clamping down on his shoulder. The taste of blood filled my mouth as he yelped in pain. But the victory was short-lived. Sharp teeth sank into my hind leg, dragging me backward across the forest floor.

Pain exploded through my body as claws raked across my flank. I fought wildly, but they surrounded me, taking turns lunging and retreating. Their strategy was clear—they weren't trying to kill me quickly. They were playing, enjoying the hunt.

"Ethan!" I cried through our mind-link, desperation flooding my thoughts. "Northern border—rogues—"

A crushing weight slammed into my side, and I heard the sickening crack of ribs. My vision blurred as I collapsed onto the damp earth, the moonlight above fracturing into hazy shards. The largest rogue loomed over me, his hot breath on my face reeking of decay and malice.

A thunderous roar split the night. The massive black form of my mate burst through the trees, his Alpha aura radiating such fury that even I felt its pressure. The rogues scattered like leaves in a storm, but the damage was done.

I tried to stand but collapsed, my legs refusing to support my weight. Blood—too much blood—matted my silver fur.

"Olivia!" Ethan's voice in my mind was frantic as he shifted back to human form and gathered my wolf body in his arms. "Stay with me, love. Don't close your eyes."

But darkness was pulling me under, the moon above growing distant and cold.

---

I drifted in and out of consciousness, catching fragments of panic around me.

"She's lost too much blood—"

"—rare blood type—"

"—won't survive without—"

Ethan's voice cut through the haze, desperate and commanding. "Search every record! There must be someone in the territory with her blood type!"

I wanted to reach for him, to tell him I was still fighting, but my body felt impossibly heavy. Grace whimpered within me, her strength fading alongside mine.

Time blurred. The healing den's ceiling swam above me, moonstone crystals embedded in the wood pulsing with gentle light. Maeve, our pack healer, worked tirelessly, her hands moving in practiced motions as she applied poultices to my wounds and murmured ancient healing chants.

"Stay with us, Luna," she whispered. "Your mate is moving mountains to save you."

I believed her. Ethan had always been my protector, from the moment he'd promised my dying mother he would keep me safe. Through seven years of our mate bond, he'd never failed me.

When I next opened my eyes, Ethan was bursting through the healing den doors, a petite female with copper hair trailing behind him.

"I found her," he announced, relief evident in his voice. "A lone wolf living on the outskirts of our territory. She has the blood type."

Maeve moved quickly, preparing for the transfusion while Ethan knelt beside my bed, his fingers intertwining with mine.

"You'll be alright now, my Luna," he whispered, pressing his lips to my forehead. "This is Amber. She's agreed to help."

I turned my head weakly, meeting the gaze of the woman who would save my life. Her eyes—a striking amber that matched her name—held something I couldn't quite identify. Not compassion or concern, but something calculating, assessing.

"Thank you," I managed to whisper.

She smiled, but it didn't reach those amber eyes. "Of course. What else could I do?"

As Maeve began the transfusion, Ethan hovered not over me, but Amber. He brushed her copper hair back from her face with a gentleness that seemed oddly intimate.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked her. "This won't hurt for long."

Something cold settled in my stomach that had nothing to do with my injuries. Grace growled softly within me, a warning I was too weak to heed.

"She'll need to stay close," Ethan announced as my eyelids grew heavy again. "As blood security. In case Olivia needs more."

Through the fog of pain and medication, I watched my mate's hand linger on Amber's shoulder, his eyes filled with a concern that seemed excessive for a stranger.

As darkness claimed me once more, one thought echoed in my fading consciousness: Why was he looking at her like that?

Three weeks had passed since the rogue attack, and my body was healing, but something else was breaking—something far more precious than bone or flesh.

I stood at the edge of the training field, watching as Ethan demonstrated a defensive maneuver to our younger pack members. His powerful form moved with fluid grace, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he pinned Delta wolf Ryan to the ground.

"See the angle of approach?" Ethan called out to the gathered wolves. "It leaves your opponent no room to counter."

The pack nodded in appreciation. Under different circumstances, I would have swelled with pride at my mate's strength and leadership. Instead, my attention was drawn to the copper-haired figure standing much closer to him than necessary.

Amber Collins. My blood donor. My supposed savior.

Grace growled within me, hackles raised. *Something's not right about her.*

I couldn't disagree. Since the transfusion, Amber had become Ethan's shadow—always nearby, always watching with those calculating amber eyes. And Ethan... he encouraged it.

"Luna," Delta wolf Lena approached hesitantly, "will you be joining training today?"

Before I could answer, Ethan's voice boomed across the field. "Olivia is still recovering. She'll observe only." He hadn't even looked in my direction.

"Actually," I said, stepping forward, "I feel strong enough for basic forms."

Ethan finally turned toward me, his expression unreadable. "Better not risk it."

"Amber," he called, gesturing her forward, "you should participate. The pack needs to see what you're capable of."

My mouth fell open slightly. Amber wasn't even officially pack, yet Ethan was inviting her to train while sidelining me?

"I'd love to," Amber replied, her voice honey-sweet as she stepped into the circle.

I watched in disbelief as my mate guided her through the movements, his hands lingering on her shoulders, her waist, adjusting her stance with an attentiveness that made my stomach clench.

"Perfect," he praised when she executed a move correctly. "You're a natural."

The training session stretched into an hour, then two. Not once did Ethan glance my way or invite me to join. When it concluded, he announced, "Amber will be joining us for all future training sessions. Her reflexes are impressive, and as our blood security for Luna Olivia, we need her in top condition."

Blood security. As if she were some living insurance policy that needed constant attention.

*He's never excluded you before,* Grace whispered in my mind.

I swallowed the hurt and turned away, heading back to the pack house alone.

---

The midday pack dinner was a tradition Ethan and I had started early in our leadership—a time for the pack to gather, share news, and strengthen bonds. Today, the great hall was filled with the scent of roasted venison and fresh bread, the long wooden tables arranged in a U-shape with Ethan and me at the head.

Or rather, Ethan, me, and Amber, who had somehow secured a seat directly to his right—my traditional place. I had been shifted one seat over, a small displacement that felt monumental in its significance.

"The border patrols report no further rogue activity," Beta Marcus was saying as servers brought out steaming platters. "We've doubled security on the northern perimeter nonetheless."

Ethan nodded approvingly. "Good. We can't risk another incident like—"

"Oh!" Amber's exclamation cut through the conversation as she stood abruptly, bumping into my chair with enough force to send me lurching forward.

I caught myself on the table's edge, but not before hearing a distinct snap. Looking down, I watched in horror as my mother's moonstone bracelet—the last gift she had given me before passing to the Moon Goddess—broke apart, iridescent beads scattering across the wooden floor.

"My bracelet," I whispered, dropping to my knees to gather the precious stones.

"I'm so sorry!" Amber cried, her voice trembling with what sounded like genuine distress. But when I glanced up, her eyes held no remorse—only calculation. "It was an accident!"

I rose slowly, clutching the broken pieces. "That was my mother's bracelet," I said, my voice tight. "You knew how important it was to me."

Amber's eyes widened, tears instantly welling. "Are you suggesting I broke it on purpose? After I gave my blood to save your life?"

The hall fell silent. All eyes turned to us.

"I didn't say that," I replied carefully. "But you've been—"

"ENOUGH!"

Ethan's Alpha tone slammed into me like a physical force, making me stagger back. The power of it silenced not just my voice but seemed to compress the very air in my lungs.

"How dare you accuse someone who saved your life?" he growled, standing to his full height, his aura pulsing with dominance. "Amber has been nothing but helpful, and this is how you repay her kindness?"

I stared at my mate in disbelief. In seven years, he had never once used his Alpha tone on me.

"Ethan," I whispered, "she—"

"Apologize," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Now."

The pack watched in stunned silence. Some lowered their eyes, unable to witness their Luna's humiliation. Others stared openly, shock evident on their faces.

Amber stood trembling, tears streaming down her face, the perfect picture of innocence wronged. But as I met her gaze, I caught the briefest flicker of triumph in those amber depths.

My hands shook as I clutched the broken pieces of my mother's bracelet. "I apologize for the misunderstanding," I forced out, each word like glass in my throat.

Ethan nodded curtly, then placed a protective arm around Amber's shoulders. "It's alright," he soothed her. "Some people forget what gratitude means."

The words struck deeper than any physical blow. As I stood there, publicly chastised and dismissed by my own mate, something fundamental shifted between us—something that, like my mother's bracelet, might never be repaired.

The moon hung full and silver above the Blackwood territory, casting ethereal light through the ancient oaks surrounding our private pavilion. I smoothed my hands over the midnight blue dress I'd chosen specifically for tonight—Ethan's favorite color on me. Seven years. Seven years since we'd stood before the Moon Goddess and pledged our souls to each other.

"Everything has to be perfect," I murmured to Grace, my inner wolf, as I adjusted the lanterns one final time. Their warm glow created intimate pools of light around the small clearing where Ethan had first kissed me as teenagers.

*He's been distant lately,* Grace observed, her tone worried.

"Tonight will fix that," I insisted, though doubt gnawed at my heart. "Once he sees what I've prepared, once we reconnect away from pack duties and... her."

I'd spent three days marinating the venison in the special blend of herbs Ethan's mother had taught me before she passed. The meat now rested on silver platters alongside fresh bread, wild berries, and the honey mead we'd shared on our mating ceremony. But the food was secondary to what lay wrapped in moonsilk on the ceremonial stone—my true gift.

The carved wooden box contained two items I'd spent months creating. First, a leather-bound journal where I'd written one memory from each month of our seven years together—eighty-four precious moments that defined us. Second, a pair of matching wolf pendants I'd commissioned from the pack's finest craftsman, embedded with fragments of the moonstone from the night we discovered we were mates.

"Luna Olivia?" A young Delta's voice called from beyond the tree line. "Alpha Ethan asked me to inform you he'll be there shortly."

"Thank you, Sara," I called back, my heart lifting. He hadn't forgotten.

I lit the ceremonial candles as the moon reached its zenith, their flames dancing in the gentle breeze. Everything was ready. I settled onto the soft furs I'd arranged, my mother's repaired bracelet catching the moonlight. Maeve had helped me restring it, though some of the original stones were lost forever.

Footsteps approached through the underbrush. My pulse quickened as Ethan emerged from the shadows, still in his training clothes rather than the formal attire I'd laid out for him. His expression was distracted, his phone clutched in one hand.

"Ethan," I rose, gesturing to the spread before us. "Happy anniversary, my love."

His eyes swept over the pavilion, the food, the gifts, and something flickered across his face—surprise? Had he truly forgotten?

"Olivia, this is..." he paused, pocketing his phone. "You didn't need to do all this."

"Of course I did." I moved toward him, reaching for his hands. "Seven years deserves celebration. I made your mother's venison recipe, and I have something special to show you—"

His phone buzzed. He glanced at it immediately, frowning.

"Leave it," I said softly. "Whatever pack business it is can wait one night."

"It's not pack business." He was already typing a response. "Amber's not feeling well."

The name hit me like ice water. "What?"

"She texted earlier about feeling dizzy, but I told her to rest. Now she's saying it's getting worse." His frown deepened as another message came through. "She thinks it might be moon sickness."

Moon sickness—a condition that affected some wolves during the full moon, usually mild unless left untreated. Grace bristled within me. *The timing is too convenient.*

"Ethan," I kept my voice level, "we have a pack healer. Maeve can check on her."

"Maeve's with the elders tonight at the sacred grounds." He was already turning back toward the trees. "I should go see—"

"No." The word came out sharper than intended. "Ethan, this is our anniversary. Our seventh. I've been planning this for weeks."

He paused, and for a moment I thought I'd reached him. Then his phone buzzed again—not a text this time, but the urgent pulse of a mind-link being forced through. His eyes glazed as he accepted the connection.

"Ethan!" Amber's voice echoed in his mind so loudly I could hear the edges of it. "Please, I can't breathe properly. The moon—it's too much. I'm scared."

"I'm coming," he responded instantly, then looked at me with something almost like annoyance. "She needs help, Olivia. She saved your life."

"And that means she owns every moment of ours?" The words burst out before I could stop them. "Ethan, please. Just this one night—"

"I can't believe you're being this selfish." He shook his head, already backing away. "Amber is alone, suffering, and you want me to sit here eating venison while she could be in serious danger?"

"Selfish?" I stared at him, disbelief warring with hurt. "Ethan, I'm your mate. Your Luna. This is our—"

But he was already gone, his powerful form disappearing into the darkness without a backward glance. The sound of his footsteps faded, leaving me alone with the flickering lanterns and the elaborate meal that would go untouched.

I stood frozen for several heartbeats, staring at the spot where he'd vanished. Then, moving like a sleepwalker, I sank onto the furs. The venison's aroma, which had seemed so appetizing moments before, now made my stomach turn.

*He left,* Grace whimpered. *He just... left.*

With trembling hands, I reached for the wrapped gifts. The journal fell open to a random page—our third anniversary, when Ethan had surprised me with a midnight run to the lake where we'd first swam as pups. He'd held me under the stars and promised that nothing would ever come between us.

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. Nothing except a copper-haired lone wolf with convenient illnesses.

I stayed in the pavilion as the moon traced its path across the sky, the candles burning down to stubs. The food grew cold. The gifts remained unopened. And somewhere in the pack house, my mate tended to another woman while our seventh anniversary passed unmarked.

It wasn't until dawn painted the sky purple and gold that I finally rose, leaving everything exactly as it was. Let him see it in the harsh light of day. Let him understand what he'd abandoned.

But as I walked back to the pack house, Grace posed the question I'd been avoiding all night: *What if he doesn't care?*