Three months. Three months since I'd been dragged through the mud and left to die. Three months since I'd lost everything—my pack, my status, my unborn pup. The forest had become my home, my prison, my battlefield.

I crouched behind a fallen log, my breath steady despite the hunger gnawing at my insides. The deer had been drinking from the stream when I spotted it—a young buck, unaware of the predator watching from the shadows. My fingers tightened around the makeshift spear I'd crafted from a broken branch.

*Now*, Luna whispered inside me.

I lunged forward, driving the spear into the deer's neck. It thrashed wildly, blood spraying across my face, but I held firm. This was how I survived now. No more ceremonies. No more pretense. Just kill or be killed.

"Nice kill," a rough voice called from behind.

I spun around, blood dripping from my chin. Five wolves emerged from the trees—low-level rogues by their unkempt appearance. Their eyes gleamed with hunger as they stared at my prize.

"Sharing is caring, sweetheart," the largest one sneered, taking a step forward.

I didn't recognize any of them. They weren't from Black Moon territory. That meant they didn't know who I was. Who I had been.

"The deer is mine," I said, my voice hoarse from disuse.

"Or what?" Another one laughed. "You'll call for your Alpha? Oh wait—you don't have one anymore."

They knew. Somehow they knew.

"Last warning," I growled, letting my wolf surge forward. My eyes flashed gold, my nails extending into claws.

The leader charged first. I ducked under his swing, driving my claws into his side. He howled in pain as I ripped through flesh. The second one came at me from behind. I spun and slammed my forehead into his nose, feeling it crunch beneath the impact.

The others rushed me together. I fought dirty—clawing, biting, using every dirty trick I'd learned in these months of survival. Blood soaked my clothes as I tore through them like a force of nature.

When it was over, four rogues lay unconscious or bleeding. The fifth crawled away, eyes wide with terror.

"Tell the others," I called after him, my voice carrying through the clearing. "Tell them the Black Moon traitor is not to be trifled with."

---

The border of my old territory was marked by a line of white stones—a warning to stay away. But I had something buried there. Something I needed.

I waited until nightfall before crossing into the forbidden zone. The scent markers made my wolf whine with nostalgia and pain, but I silenced her. We weren't here for memories.

The oak tree stood just as I remembered, its roots creating a natural hollow in the ground. I dug frantically with my hands until my fingers closed around a waterproof bag.

Inside were the documents I'd hidden years ago—insurance against a future I never thought would come. Among them was my mother's leather-bound diary.

I opened it with trembling hands, flipping to the pages I'd marked long ago. The handwriting was elegant but hurried:

*"Today I learned the truth about Richard's affair. The woman is a servant from the eastern territory. Their daughter is a year younger than Cleo. He wants to bring her into the pack, but I cannot allow it. Not after what happened to Cleo's position as heir. The girl will remain hidden, but I fear this secret will haunt us all..."*

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. Nina. My father's bastard daughter. The one who had stolen everything from me.

It wasn't just about Levi. It was about her taking my place, my identity, my birthright.

---

I was so focused on the diary that I didn't hear him approach until it was too late.

"Cleo."

The voice sent ice through my veins. I spun around, claws extended, ready to fight.

Dillon Graham stood ten feet away, his hands raised in surrender. The Beta of the Silverfang Pack looked exactly as I remembered—tall, broad-shouldered, his brown hair longer now and tied back.

"Stay away," I snarled, backing up.

"Cleo, it's me," he said softly. "I'm not here to hurt you."

To my shock, he lowered himself to his knees. A Beta—kneeling to me? A rogue? A traitor?

"What do you want?" My voice cracked with exhaustion.

Instead of answering, he lowered his head in submission. "I'm no threat to you."

Something in his gesture broke through my defenses. The diary fell from my hands as I stumbled backward.

"Cleo," he said again, rising slowly. "Come with me. The Silverfang Pack offers you sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?" I laughed bitterly. "There's no such thing."

"There is." His eyes held mine steadily. "Not as a prisoner. Not as a charity case. As a wolf who deserves freedom."

I wanted to run. To disappear back into the forest where no one could find me. But my body betrayed me, weakness overtaking my will.

"Freedom," I whispered, the word foreign on my tongue.

Then darkness claimed me, and I collapsed into his waiting arms.

I woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows. For a moment, I forgot where I was—the soft bed beneath me, the clean sheets, the absence of dirt and blood. Then reality crashed back as I bolted upright, claws extending instinctively.

"Easy," a gentle voice said from the doorway. "You're safe here."

Alpha Elena Silverfang stood there, her silver-streaked hair gleaming in the morning light. Unlike Levi's imposing presence, hers radiated quiet strength.

"Safe?" I laughed bitterly, pulling the sheets around me. "There's no such thing as safe."

"Perhaps not." She nodded, understanding in her eyes. "But you can heal here."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, wincing as pain shot through my still-healing leg. "I don't need charity."

"I'm not offering charity." Elena's voice remained calm. "The Silverfang Pack values strength. Earn your place among us."

---

The training yard was a far cry from Black Moon's polished facilities. Rough-hewn posts formed a circle of sparring areas, where wolves trained with primal intensity.

"Again," I growled at my sparring partner, a young Delta named Kai. Three days of training had restored some of my confidence.

He circled me warily before lunging. I sidestepped, driving my elbow into his ribs. He stumbled back with a grunt.

"Good," Dillon called from the sidelines. "Now try—"

Before he could finish, he moved toward me with fluid grace, demonstrating a countermove. His hand came up too quickly.

The world tilted. Suddenly I was back in that hallway, rough hands dragging me away as Levi's voice echoed: "Traitor."

I struck out blindly, my claws catching Dillon's arm. He stepped back immediately, his eyes wide with understanding.

"Cleo," he said softly, kneeling down. "I'm here. You're safe."

But I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The walls closed in as memories flooded me—the fire, the beam crushing my leg, Nina's triumphant smile.

Dillon didn't touch me. He simply stayed there, kneeling, until my breathing slowed.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be." He remained where he was, his posture open, non-threatening. "Some wounds take longer to heal than others."

The contrast hit me like a physical blow. Levi would have forced me to continue, would have seen my reaction as weakness. But Dillon...

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely audible.

---

The envelope arrived on a Tuesday, its gold embossing catching the afternoon light. I recognized the Black Moon seal immediately.

"From Alpha Wright," the messenger announced, his expression carefully neutral as he handed it to me.

My fingers trembled as I broke the seal. Inside was a formal invitation, the words burning into my vision:

*Alpha Levi Wright requests the honor of your presence at his mating ceremony with Nina Cunningham, to be followed by her coronation as Luna of the Black Moon Pack...*

The room spun. My chest constricted as if bands of steel were tightening around my ribs.

"Cleo?" Dillon's voice seemed to come from far away.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The invitation fluttered to the floor as I doubled over, my lungs refusing to work.

Then Dillon was there, his hands steady on my shoulders. "Breathe with me," he commanded gently. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

I followed his lead, matching his breathing until the vise around my chest loosened.

"They're doing it," I whispered. "They're really doing it."

"Yes." His eyes held mine, unwavering. "And they want you there to witness it."

"To rub it in," I spat.

"Or to end it," he said quietly.

I stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Cleo." He took my hands in his. "I'm asking you to be my mate. Not out of pity. Not because you need saving. Because I've loved you since we were pups running through these forests."

My heart stuttered. "Dillon..."

"Not right away," he clarified. "But at the ceremony. Let them see you rise from the ashes. Let them see you choose your own destiny."

Understanding dawned slowly. "You want to crash the wedding."

"Not to stop it." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "To end his hold on you. Forever."

---

The dress arrived a week later—blood-red silk that clung to my curves like liquid fire. I stood before the mirror, tracing the scars that mapped my survival.

"These aren't shameful," I whispered to my reflection. "These are battle honors."

Dillon appeared behind me, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "You're breathtaking."

I turned to face him, suddenly aware of how close we stood. "Are you sure about this?"

"Never more certain." He cupped my face gently. "But only if you are."

I nodded, emotion threatening to overwhelm me. "I want to choose my own fate."

"Then let's make them remember the day they lost you." His lips brushed mine in a promise rather than a claim.

As we sealed our temporary pact with a kiss, I felt something I hadn't experienced in years—the freedom to choose my own path.

Tomorrow, we would face my past. Tomorrow, I would reclaim my power.

But tonight... tonight belonged to us.