The summons came just as the sun dipped below the treeline, painting the Silver Fang Pack house in shades of amber and shadow. I'd been in the kitchen, preparing Ethan's favorite venison stew—the one his mother taught me years ago, back when she still pretended to tolerate me.

"Luna Hannah." David Reid, our Beta, stood in the doorway. His usually warm brown eyes wouldn't meet mine. "The Alpha requests your presence in his office."

My wolf stirred uneasily within me. In seven years of marriage, Ethan rarely used formal channels to speak with me. I wiped my hands on my apron, the familiar scent of rosemary and thyme doing nothing to calm my suddenly racing heart.

"Now?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

David nodded stiffly. "He said it's urgent."

The walk to Ethan's office felt longer than usual. Pack members averted their gazes as I passed, and I caught whispered fragments that made my stomach clench. Something was wrong. My fingers found the simple silver ring on my left hand—Ethan's first gift to me—and twisted it nervously.

I knocked on the heavy oak door.

"Enter." His voice carried that distinctive Alpha tone, the one that demanded immediate obedience.

The office smelled of leather and pine, mixed with Ethan's familiar scent of cedar and rain. But there was something else—vanilla and jasmine. Olivia's perfume.

My best friend sat in one of the leather chairs facing Ethan's desk, her honey-blonde hair catching the lamplight. She didn't turn when I entered.

"Sit." Ethan's command brooked no argument.

I sank into the chair beside Olivia, my wolf whimpering at the cold distance in my mate's silver eyes. He stood behind his desk like a judge about to pass sentence, his powerful frame rigid with tension.

"Hannah." He began without preamble, his tone as emotionless as if discussing pack finances. "After careful consideration, I've decided on a solution to our... situation."

Our situation. Seven years of trying for an heir. Seven years of monthly disappointments. Seven years of me carrying a secret that would shatter his Alpha pride.

"What solution?" My voice came out smaller than intended.

His jaw tightened. "A formal rejection ceremony. Next full moon."

The words hit me like physical blows. My wolf howled in anguish, clawing at my insides. "Ethan, please—"

"Olivia has agreed to become my Luna." He continued as if I hadn't spoken, gesturing to my friend who still wouldn't look at me. "She comes from strong bloodlines. She'll give me the heir this pack needs."

I turned to Olivia, searching her face for some sign of the woman who'd held me through countless tearful nights. "Liv?"

She finally met my gaze, and I saw no remorse in her green eyes. Only a glimmer of satisfaction quickly masked by false sympathy. "I'm doing this for the pack's future, Hannah. You understand, don't you?"

Understand? That my mate of seven years was discarding me like a broken tool? That my best friend had been waiting in the wings to take my place?

"This is about more than an heir," I whispered, pieces clicking into place. The late-night meetings. The way Olivia always seemed to appear whenever Ethan and I argued. "How long have you been planning this?"

Ethan's eyes flashed dangerously. "Your questions are irrelevant. The decision is made."

"But we're mates," I said desperately. "The Moon Goddess—"

"The Moon Goddess made a mistake." His words were ice. "One I intend to correct."

The door opened without warning. Eleanor Foster swept in, her silver hair perfectly coiled, her bearing as regal as when she'd been Luna. She surveyed the scene with obvious approval.

"Good, you've told her." She moved to stand beside her son, placing a proprietary hand on his shoulder. "Hannah, you'll assist in planning the ceremony, of course. It's the least you can do after failing to provide my son an heir."

My hands clenched in my lap. "You want me to plan my own mate's ceremony to another woman?"

"It's not a request." Eleanor's smile was sharp as broken glass. "Refuse, and I'll personally ensure you're demoted to Omega status. Is that clear?"

I looked between them—my mate who wouldn't meet my eyes, my friend who'd stolen him, and his mother who'd never hidden her contempt for me. My wolf retreated deep inside, wounded beyond words.

"Crystal clear," I managed.

"Excellent." Eleanor's tone suggested the matter was settled. "Olivia has some wonderful ideas for the ceremony. Traditional, as befits a true Luna."

Traditional. The word burned like acid. All the traditions Ethan had denied me. All the ceremonies he'd called unnecessary.

As if reading my thoughts, Ethan's expression softened marginally. "This is for the best, Hannah. You'll see."

But I was already seeing. Seeing seven years of devotion meant nothing. Seeing that I'd never truly been his Luna.

Seeing that I'd been utterly, completely betrayed.

The royal seamstress's shop sat at the heart of pack territory, its windows displaying generations of ceremonial garments. I'd passed it countless times, always pausing to admire the Luna gowns that seemed to glow with their own inner light. Now, walking beside Olivia, each step felt like marching toward my own execution.

"Isn't this exciting?" Olivia linked her arm through mine, her vanilla-jasmine perfume overwhelming in the crisp morning air. "I've dreamed of this moment since I was a pup."

My wolf snarled at her touch, but I forced myself to remain calm. "Have you?"

She squeezed my arm, oblivious to—or perhaps enjoying—my discomfort. "Oh, Hannah. You know I've always admired the Luna position. The responsibility, the honor of continuing the Alpha bloodline..." Her green eyes sparkled with barely concealed triumph. "Some of us are simply born for it."

The shop's bell chimed as we entered. Mrs. Thornberry, the elderly seamstress who'd dressed every Luna for three generations, looked up from her work. Her warm smile faltered when she saw me.

"Luna Hannah." She dipped her head respectfully, then noticed Olivia. Confusion flickered across her weathered face. "How may I serve you today?"

Olivia stepped forward, radiating confidence. "We're here for a Luna ceremony gown fitting."

"But..." Mrs. Thornberry's gaze darted between us.

"For me," Olivia clarified, her voice honeyed poison. "Hannah is here to help. Aren't you, dear friend?"

The words twisted like a knife between my ribs. I managed a nod, not trusting my voice.

Mrs. Thornberry's expression shuttered. She'd dressed me for my own hasty mating ceremony seven years ago—a simple dress, nothing like the elaborate Luna gown I'd dreamed of. Ethan had insisted traditions were unnecessary for our 'private situation.'

"This way," she murmured, leading us to the back room where the ceremonial gowns waited.

The sight stole my breath. Dozens of white gowns hung like frozen moonlight, each more beautiful than the last. My fingers itched to touch the delicate fabrics, to imagine myself in one of them. But that dream had died the moment Ethan summoned me to his office.

Olivia went straight for the most elaborate gown—shimmering white silk embroidered with silver thread forming the Silver Fang Pack emblem across the bodice. Delicate wolf motifs danced along the hem, and moonstones caught the light at the neckline.

It was exactly what I'd described to Ethan years ago. The gown I'd sketched in secret, hoping one day he'd grant me a proper Luna ceremony.

"This one," Olivia declared, running her hands over the fabric. "It's perfect."

My throat constricted. "That's—"

"Magnificent?" She was already stripping down, eager to try it on. "I know. I had it specially commissioned weeks ago. Ethan showed me your old sketches. He thought they were quaint."

Quaint. My dreams reduced to a patronizing word.

Mrs. Thornberry helped Olivia into the gown, her movements mechanical. When Olivia emerged from behind the changing screen, I bit down hard on my inner cheek to keep from crying.

She looked radiant. The gown fit her perfectly, transforming her from my supposed best friend into everything I'd wanted to be. The silver embroidery caught the light as she twirled, and the train swept behind her like liquid starlight.

"What do you think?" She faced me, false concern painting her features. "Too much?"

Before I could answer, the shop bell chimed again. Ethan's scent—cedar and rain—filled the space, making my wolf whimper pathetically.

"I had to see for myself," he said, his deep voice sending unwanted shivers through me.

His silver eyes locked onto Olivia, and I watched something shift in his expression. Raw hunger. Genuine appreciation. The look I'd craved for seven years but never received.

"Stunning," he breathed, moving toward her like a wolf stalking prey. "You look like a true Luna."

A true Luna. Not like me. Never like me.

His hands found Olivia's waist, pulling her close despite my presence. She melted into him, and I saw his wolf's aura pulse with approval—something he'd always kept tightly controlled around me.

"The pack will be in awe," he murmured against her ear. "My mother was right. This is how a Luna should look."

I couldn't breathe. The walls pressed in, and my wolf howled in anguish. Seven years of devotion, of keeping his secret, of protecting his pride—meaningless.

They were still talking, planning, touching, but I was already backing toward the door. Neither noticed. Mrs. Thornberry caught my eye, sympathy and sorrow warring in her expression, but I couldn't bear her pity.

I slipped out as silently as I'd learned to do everything in my marriage. Outside, I ran. Not toward the pack house, but toward the forest. Toward the borders where I could scream without anyone hearing.

Where I could finally shatter without Ethan's cold eyes watching me break.

The forest blurred past as I ran, my wolf's paws pounding against the frost-hardened earth. The midnight air burned in my lungs, but I couldn't stop. Not when every breath still carried the phantom scent of cedar and rain mixed with vanilla and jasmine.

I'd been running for hours, pushing my wolf to her limits. The pack house lay miles behind, but I could still feel the mate bond tugging at my chest—a cruel reminder of what I was about to lose.

My wolf stumbled near the eastern border, exhaustion finally catching up. I shifted back to human form, collapsing against an ancient oak tree. The bark scraped against my bare skin, grounding me in physical sensation when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

Then it happened. The pain hit like lightning, starting in my chest and radiating outward. My wolf howled—a sound of pure anguish that tore from my throat before I could stop it. The mate bond was straining, responding to Ethan's emotional distance with physical agony.

*Hannah?*

The mind-link startled me. I recognized the voice immediately—warm, steady, concerned. James.

*I'm sorry,* I responded, trying to close the connection. *I didn't mean to project so loudly.*

*Where are you?* His mental voice carried an edge of worry. *That kind of pain... are you hurt?*

*Eastern border. Near the old oak.* I couldn't lie to him. James had always seen through my masks anyway. *I'm... I'm not physically hurt.*

Silence stretched between us. Then, gently: *I'm coming to you.*

*James, no—*

*You shouldn't be alone. Not like this.*

The connection faded, leaving me with my wolf's whimpers and the taste of tears I hadn't realized I'd been crying.

True to his word, James appeared within minutes, his massive black wolf moving through the underbrush like shadow given form. He shifted smoothly, and I averted my eyes as he pulled on the clothes he'd carried.

"Hannah." He crouched beside me, maintaining a respectful distance. "What happened?"

The words tumbled out between sobs. Ethan's cold announcement. Olivia's betrayal. The dress fitting that shattered what was left of my heart. Planning my own replacement.

"He's rejecting me at the next full moon," I whispered. "Seven years, James. Seven years of devotion, and he's throwing me away because I can't give him an heir."

James's jaw tightened. In the moonlight, I caught the flash of amber in his dark eyes—his wolf responding to my pain. "Hannah, there's something you need to know."

I looked up at him, confused by the certainty in his voice.

"Three years ago, at the alliance meeting between our packs," he began carefully, "my wolf sensed something. About Ethan."

My heart stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"Alphas have heightened senses, especially regarding pack bloodlines and fertility. It's how we instinctively know who will strengthen our packs." He paused, clearly weighing his words. "Hannah, Ethan is sterile. I've known for years."

The forest spun around me. "You... you knew?"

"I thought you knew too. I assumed that's why you never..." He trailed off. "This rejection, this plan with Olivia—it's all a sham. She could never bear his pups because he can't father them."

A broken laugh escaped me. "Oh, I knew."

James's eyes widened.

"I've known for seven years," I admitted, my voice hollow. "Since right after our mating ceremony."

The memory crashed over me like a wave, and suddenly I was there again...

*Eleanor Foster's private study smelled of lavender and old paper. She'd summoned me the morning after my mating night, when I should have been basking in newfound joy.*

*"Sit," she'd commanded, her silver hair gleaming in the morning light.*

*I'd obeyed, still naive enough to hope for acceptance.*

*She'd slid a folder across her desk—medical records, test results, official pack healer documentation. All stamped with confidential seals.*

*"My son is sterile," she'd stated without preamble. "Has been since a childhood illness. He doesn't know—we've kept it from him to protect his Alpha status."*

*My world had tilted on its axis. "Why are you telling me this?"*

*"Because you have a choice." Her cold blue eyes had bored into mine. "Reject him now, before the bond fully settles. Find a mate who can give you pups. Leave, and never speak of this."*

*"And if I stay?"*

*She'd smiled then, sharp and cruel. "Then you bear the burden of this secret. You endure his disappointment month after month. You watch him blame you for what his body cannot do. And when he finally breaks under the weight of his failure, you'll have no one to blame but yourself."*

*I'd looked at those papers—proof of my mate's deepest shame—and made my choice.*

*"I stay," I'd whispered. "He's my mate. I love him."*

*Eleanor's expression had shifted to something between disgust and pity. "Then you're a fool. But if you breathe one word of this to him..."*

*"I won't. I'll protect him."*

*And I had. For seven long years.*

"Hannah." James's voice pulled me back to the present. His face was a mix of awe and horror. "You knew, and you stayed? You let him blame you?"

"He's my mate," I said simply. "Was my mate. I thought... I thought our bond was enough. That love was enough."

"While you protected his pride, he plotted with your best friend to replace you." The growl in James's voice made me shiver. "You deserved so much better."

"Did I?" I met his eyes, seeing my own pain reflected there. "Maybe Eleanor was right. Maybe I was just a fool."

"No." James moved closer, his warmth a comfort against the cold night. "You loved with a pure heart. He's the fool for throwing that away."

We sat in silence, the weight of truth settling between us. In the distance, a wolf howled—lonely and lost.

Just like me.

But for the first time in years, I wasn't bearing this burden alone.