The conference room in the Pack House was suffocating. The air conditioner hummed, battling the heavy, humid heat of the approaching storm, but it did nothing to cool the burning shame on my cheeks. Today was the border summit with the Blue Moon Pack, a critical diplomatic meeting regarding our shared river territories. As Luna, I had spent three nights drafting the proposed treaty amendments with my one good hand, losing sleep to ensure our pack’s interests were protected.

Yet, as Alpha Dennis Adams and his delegation entered the room, I wasn’t seated at the mahogany table.

"Aria," Theodore’s voice cut through the room, sharp and dismissive. He didn't look at me; his eyes were fixed on the papers in front of him. "We’re missing the agricultural reports from 2018. Go fetch them from the archives."

I froze. The archives were in the basement, three floors down. "Theo, the meeting is starting. Those reports aren't relevant to the river treaty."

"Do not argue with me in front of guests," he growled, the Alpha command vibrating in the air. "Go."

I gritted my teeth, clutching my plaster-cast arm to my chest, and turned to leave. As I did, I saw Macie. She was standing right beside Theodore’s chair, wearing a silk dress that hugged her petite frame—a dress that looked disturbingly similar to one Frances wore in her official portrait. She held a silver pitcher of water, pouring glasses for the gathered elders with the grace of a hostess. With the grace of a Luna.

I was the errand girl. She was the queen.

By the time I returned, breathless and aching, the meeting was in full swing. I placed the dusty file on the table, expecting to be ignored. Instead, the room went silent.

Alpha Dennis Adams, a man with graying temples and eyes that held the wisdom of decades, stood up. He ignored Theodore. He ignored Macie, who was currently leaning over Theodore's shoulder to whisper something in his ear. Dennis turned his entire body toward me and bowed his head low—a sign of deep respect usually reserved for equals.

"Luna Aria," Dennis said, his voice warm and genuine. "I was just telling Alpha Hamilton that the clauses you added regarding the fishing rights were brilliant. Your foresight saved both our packs a great deal of conflict. It is an honor to be in your presence."

The silence that followed was deafening. Macie’s smile faltered. Theodore went rigid, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the armrests of his chair.

"Thank you, Alpha Adams," I whispered, fighting the urge to cry. For the first time in seven years, someone saw me.

Theodore cleared his throat, a harsh, grinding sound. "Yes, well. Aria is diligent with paperwork. Macie, please refill Alpha Adams' glass."

The dismissal was brutal, but the seed had been planted. Throughout the rest of the meeting, Theodore’s scent grew acrid with suppressed rage.

***

The moment the Blue Moon delegation’s SUVs disappeared down the driveway, Theodore turned on me. He didn't wait until we were private; he cornered me in the grand foyer, grabbing my uninjured shoulder and slamming me back against the wall.

"What was that?" he hissed, his face inches from mine. His eyes were flashing between brown and amber, his wolf pacing near the surface.

"I don't know what you mean," I stammered, wincing as the impact jarred my broken arm.

"Don't play innocent!" he roared. "You were flirting with him. Prancing around, looking pathetic with that cast, trying to garner sympathy. 'Oh, look at the poor, mistreated Luna.' Did you enjoy making me look weak in front of a rival Alpha?"

"I didn't say a word!" I cried out, finally pushing back against his chest. "He respected me, Theo! He acknowledged the work I did—work you didn't even read! Why is it so impossible for you to believe that I have value?"

Theodore laughed, but there was no humor in it. It was a cold, cruel sound. "Value? Aria, look at yourself. You are a wolfless burden. The Moon Goddess made a mistake pairing us. A warrior soul like mine needs a mate who understands the fire of battle, not a secretary who hides in the garden."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Macie understands. She has a survivor's spirit. She doesn't need to be coddled. You? You're just... heavy."

He released me abruptly, as if my skin burned him, and stormed toward his office. I slid down the wall, the word *burden* echoing in my skull, shattering whatever confidence Dennis had briefly given me.

"Alpha, wait!"

The voice was gravelly and old. Jenkins, the pack’s oldest warrior, stepped out from the shadows of the hallway. His face was a map of scars, a testament to fifty years of service. He had been there the day Theodore’s father died. He had been there the day I dragged Theodore from the ambush.

Theodore stopped, his back stiff. "What is it, Jenkins?"

"You are walking a dangerous path, boy," Jenkins said, dropping the formalities. "That girl... Macie. She isn't right. Her scent changes when the wind turns. And the Luna... you forget too easily who pulled you from the jaws of death when you were nothing but blood and bone."

Theodore spun around, his lips curled in a snarl. "Careful, old man. Your tenure does not grant you immunity."

"I saw her eyes today," Jenkins persisted, stepping closer. "Macie. There is no wolf in them. Only greed. You are trading gold for fool's glitter, Alpha."

"**Silence!**" Theodore bellowed, the Alpha Tone cracking the plaster on the ceiling. "Speak ill of her again, and I will strip your rank and throw you to the rogues myself. Macie is under my protection. Aria is merely... here."

Theodore stormed into his office and slammed the door, the vibration rattling the frames on the wall.

Jenkins didn't move for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned to where I sat crumpled on the floor. The old warrior’s eyes were filled with a profound, heartbreaking sorrow. He didn't say a word—he didn't have to. The look on his face told me everything.

The pack was breaking. And I was the only one who could see the cracks.

The silver key felt heavy and cold in my palm, a jagged little piece of metal that weighed more than the plaster cast on my arm. It was just a key—standard issue, brass-coated—but it opened the heavy oak door to the Luna’s office. The office where I had spent seven years balancing the pack’s budget, organizing treaties, and ensuring our warriors were fed and paid.

"Aria," Theodore’s voice was impatient, his hand extended. "Don't make this difficult. You are injured, and frankly, your recent performance has been... lacking. You need to focus on healing, not administration."

I looked at him, searching for a flicker of the man I loved, but his eyes were hard, fixed on the key. Beside him, Macie stood with her hands clasped demurely in front of her, wearing a look of practiced reluctance.

"Theo," I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "This is my office. It’s the heart of my duties as Luna."

"And right now, you are failing those duties," he snapped, snatching the key from my unresisting fingers. He turned immediately to Macie, his expression softening into something sickeningly tender. "Here. You mentioned you had ideas for the upcoming festival. You’ll need a quiet place to work."

Macie accepted the key as if it were a crown jewel. "Oh, Alpha, are you sure? I don't want to overstep..."

"You could never overstep," he assured her. Then, he turned his back to me. "Aria, report to the kitchens. If you aren't doing real Luna work, you can at least make yourself useful. The Omegas are short-handed with the festival prep. Try not to break any plates."

The humiliation burned hotter than the fever in my broken arm. I was the Luna of the Obsidian Crest Pack, and I was being sent to peel potatoes.

***

The kitchens were a chaotic symphony of clattering pans and shouting cooks. The air was thick with the smell of roasting venison and onions. When I walked in, the room went silent. Old Martha, the head cook, looked at my sling and then at my face, her eyes wide with horror.

"Luna?" she gasped, wiping her hands on her apron. "What are you doing down here?"

"I've been reassigned, Martha," I said, keeping my chin high. "Where do you need me?"

For three hours, I worked. I couldn't chop with one hand, so I carried sacks of flour on my good shoulder, gritting my teeth against the strain. I scrubbed counters until my knuckles were raw. I became a ghost in my own home, invisible to everyone but the lowest-ranking wolves who looked at me with heartbreaking pity.

Around midday, Martha asked me to bring a tray of coffee and sandwiches up to the Alpha's floor. "They've been in meetings all morning," she muttered. "Best you take it, Luna. Maybe he'll... maybe he'll see you."

I took the tray, balancing it precariously on my good forearm. As I approached the office—*my* office—the door was slightly ajar. I moved to knock, but the sound of Macie’s voice froze me in place.

"...it was terrifying, Theo," she was saying, her voice breathless and soft. "The smoke was so thick I could barely breathe. But I saw you there, trapped under the wreckage. Everyone else had run, but I couldn't leave you."

My blood turned to ice.

"I was so small," Macie continued, weaving a web of lies that strangled my heart. "But I grabbed your collar. It was burning hot, searing my fingers. I pulled with everything I had. I remember the weight of you, dead weight in the mud, and the way the fire roared behind us..."

I nearly dropped the tray. That wasn't her memory. That was *mine*.

I remembered the heat blistering my skin. I remembered the smell of burning rubber and wolfsbane. I remembered screaming for help until my throat bled while dragging Theodore’s unconscious body inch by agonizing inch away from the burning jeep.

I peeked through the crack in the door. Theodore was sitting on the edge of the desk, staring at Macie with an expression of pure, unadulterated worship. There were tears in his eyes—tears he had never shed for me.

"It was you," he whispered, reaching out to cup her face. "All this time, I thought... I felt a connection, but I didn't know. You saved me, Macie. You are my destiny."

"I didn't want the glory," she lied smoothly, leaning into his touch. "I just wanted you to be safe."

I backed away, bile rising in my throat. She wasn't just taking my office or my husband. She was stealing my history. She was erasing me completely.

"Alpha!"

The shout came from the end of the hallway. Gamma Rick was striding toward us, his face grim. He didn't notice me pressed against the wall as he burst into the office.

"Alpha, we have a situation," Rick said urgently. "Border patrol just reported fresh tracks on the northern ridge. Rogue scouts. They're probing the perimeter."

I stepped forward instinctively. "The northern ridge?" I interrupted, forgetting my place. "That sector is blind right now. Macie reallocated the sensory patrols to the festival grounds this morning. If scouts are there, they've already found a way in."

Theodore looked at me, then at Macie. Macie’s eyes widened in fake alarm. "I... I just thought the festival security was more important, Theo! We have so many guests coming..."

"She's right," Theodore said, waving his hand dismissively at Rick. "It's just a few stray rogues, Rick. Don't be dramatic. They're looking for scraps, not a fight."

"But Alpha," Rick argued, "if Aria is right about the blind spot..."

"Aria is peeling potatoes, not running military strategy!" Theodore roared, slamming his hand on the desk. "I will not have panic ruining the Mate Festival. I am making a public announcement tonight—an announcement about the future of this pack and my *true* chosen mate. I want security focused on the stage, not chasing ghosts in the woods. Is that clear?"

Rick stiffened, casting a helpless glance at me before bowing his head. "Yes, Alpha."

Theodore turned back to Macie, pulling her into his arms, oblivious to the disaster looming on the horizon. I stood in the hallway, the tray trembling in my hand, realizing with a sickening jolt that he wasn't just breaking my heart anymore. By ignoring the threat to plan his romantic declaration, he was dooming us all.