“Luna Dowager Silverfang, I accept becoming Auron Blackwing’s fated mate.”

My words fell into the silent castle like a heavy stone.

My grandmother, Moira Silverfang was the Luna Dowager of the Silverfang Pack. Yet, she didn’t even lift her head after what I just said. Her gold spoon tapped softly against the porcelain cup while she sipped her tea with calm, perfect manners.

“You must be joking,” she finally said, raising her cold eyes to me.

“Our pack will enjoy the story. The other packs will love the fairytale. You will wear the ring, smile like a good Luna. But do you understand what happens behind closed doors?”

She held my gaze without blinking.

“You will be nothing but a vessel … just someone to carry the heir. Nothing else.”

“I know that, Luna Dowager. I accepted it,” I answered quietly.

She tilted her head, almost in disgust.

“So this is your plan. You are willing to share a bed with that monster, only to become a Luna you will never truly be?”

I met her stare and didn’t look away.

“Didn’t you once try to make me the mate of that eighty-year-old Alpha whose last Luna died from wolfsbane poisoning? I’m only making things easier for you … selling myself to the highest bidder.”

Auron Blackwing was the infamous Dark Alpha from the south. That man was once feared to become the future Supreme Alpha of all packs. He had been released from the silver prison only three months ago. Every pack heard the news.

They called him the Monstrous Alpha.

And now … I was going to be his Luna.

His pack needed a pure fated binding to protect their bloodline. But my father’s precious daughter, Gwyneth Silverfang, refused. She cried like her world was ending. She always had the privilege of saying no.

Unfortunately, I never did.

The Luna Dowager leaned back slowly.

“Are you doing this because you want attention? Trying to prove something?”

“No,” I said.

“I’m doing this because you need the Blackwing Pack. And I’m the daughter no one remembered until you needed me to mate the Dark Alpha.”

She studied me with cold calculation.

“This could work,” she murmured.

“A noble sacrifice. The people will love it. Our pack’s power will rise again. Yes … very good.”

“But I want something in return,” I said.

Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“I want half of our packs, the Silverfang Pack’s heirlooms, and fifty million golden coins.”

A small twitch pulled at her lips as she told me, “That would make you richer than your uncles combined.”

“I’m not asking,” I said as I stood.

“Even if you never admit it, I’m the real daughter. Gwyneth is the illegitimate one my father brought home.”

My voice cracked, but I still spoke.

“If I’m going to bind my body and soul to a man who may never care for me, all to save this dying pack, then I will be paid … for every year you let me suffer.”

“You ungrateful little-”

“Ungrateful?”

I let out a small, shaky laugh.

“I grew up in the servants’ rooms, cleaning floors on my knees. As for Gwyneth? She was the one who showed up to every party. Don’t talk to me about gratitude.”

I turned toward the door but paused.

“One more thing,” I said, forcing the words out.

“Reassign Gareth to Gwyneth.”

“That warrior?” my grandmother asked. “The one you protected when your father tried to whip him? The one you refused to let be punished, even starving yourself for four days?”

She gave a short, amused laugh.

“I thought you were in love with him, even though he treated you like trash.”

Tears pressed against my eyes.

“I thought so too.”

After that, I walked out.

Three days ago, a drunken night had taken me to Gareth’s room. One moment I was confessing my feelings, and the next we were sharing a burning kiss.

And at my weakest moment, I gave him everything. My love, my trust, and even my virginity. But I woke up alone in a cold bed, my body aching and my heart full of hope.

Gareth Greywind stood by the mirror, already dressed in his armor, calm and cold, like nothing had happened.

“Now that you’re awake, get dressed and leave. You shouldn’t be in my room.” His voice cut through the air like a blade.

That was it.

No warmth. No concern. Not even a simple “Are you okay?”

I pushed myself up, my heart breaking piece by piece.

“Gareth … I told you I love-”

“Love?” He turned slowly, his shoulders tense, his eyes empty.

“Last night was a mistake, Lady Freya Silverfang. A drunken mistake. Don’t start a drama.”

His cold words stabbed deeper than anything I had ever experienced. My legs were shaking as I stood. Walking toward him felt like stepping on sharp glass.

“Was it nothing to you?” I whispered, reaching out with trembling fingers.

He didn’t even look at me.

“You stayed by my side for three years. You held me when no one else did. You remembered my birthday when even my pack forgot-”

“I did those things because it was my duty. I’m a warrior of the pack. Nothing more.”

His eyes met mine. Sharp, distant, and almost cruel.

“Don’t make this into romance. I never saw you as anything except a responsibility. A task I was paid to protect.”

My breath caught.

“And the way you dress, the way you act … ”

His voice grew even colder.

“Don’t pretend last night was pure. You flirt all the time, Freya. It’s not like you were innocent.”

I froze. The air left my lungs.

Then he grabbed my wrist suddenly, his grip hard, and dragged me to the door like I meant nothing.

“Don’t confuse attention with affection, my lady,” he said, sounding almost bored.

“That’s where women like you always fail.”

The door slammed behind me.

I was left on the floor, broken and crying, completely used and thrown away. Everyone had chosen to abandon me. So this time, I would choose my own path.

I would leave the father who adored his ‘illegitimate pup’, the man who broke me, and the pack that never saw me as theirs.

This time, I would be the one walking away.

My grandmother, Luna Moira Silverfang, always gave Gwyneth everything. The fortune worth billions. The perfect debut ball. The carefully planned rise of “The Silverfang Pack’s Beloved Future She-Alpha” among the packs.

That was when I knew she would give me only one thing, a mating ceremony covered in thorns.

As expected, an envelope arrived the next morning. It was sealed with dark red wax stamped with the Blackwing crest, a coiled serpent wrapped around a crown. I stared at it for a long time before my shaking fingers finally broke the seal.

[Intention of Mating Ceremony

Lady Freya Silverfang of the Silverfang Pack and Alpha Auron Blackwing of the Blackwing Pack

The Moon Priestess has agreed to bless the mating ceremony.]

Another letter was attached for me.

[Lady Freya, I will come to collect you in three days.

A private castle has already been prepared. Your bridal fittings are scheduled.

Our mating ceremony is in two weeks.

Auron Blackwing]

Our mating ceremony? In two weeks.

I set the letter on the desk, my hand numb. This was it. I had been sold again. Only this time, I had spoken the words that sealed the deal. And now I finally saw that this pack had never accepted me at all.

Walking down the hallway, thinking of the life I was about to throw away, I passed by Gareth’s room. And the sounds coming from inside made me freeze.

Low breaths. Rough groans. The room shook with raw, wild desire. I reached for the door without thinking. Then, I opened the gates of hell.

Gareth sat shirtless, muscles tight, sweat shining on his skin. His hand moved between his legs, his head tilted back, lost in pleasure. Papers lay scattered everywhere. On the floor, the bed, and the desk.

My heart stopped when I saw them.

Gwyneth.

He had drawn her face from every angle. Smiling, laughing, looking over her shoulder, and her hair messy like she had just woken up in his arms. And there was more. Sketches of her body.

Not dirty. But soft, intimate curves.

In one drawing, Gwyneth was lying on her back with her head turned and her lips slightly opened. In another, her arms stretched above her head, a thin sheet barely covering her thighs.

I froze as Gareth lifted one sketch. It was one where Gwyneth was topless, her back arched. He brushed his lips against the paper and moaned her name.

“Gwyneth … Gwyneth … ”

Everything inside me crumbled. Gareth hadn’t just used me. He had never even seen me.

Then, his voice broke the silence.

“No,” he growled.

“I can’t return to the pack until she’s mine. I want her as my mate. Gwyneth is everything I want for the Grey Wind Pack.”

My breath caught in my throat. The Grey Wind Pack? Did that mean Gareth was my former betrothed whom I had never met. Was he the one who rejected me publicly after my mother’s funeral, calling me unworthy of his blood?

A tear slipped down my cheek in horror. He had been beside me all this time, wearing a new name, a new face …

And I had let him in like a lamb walking to the slaughter.

“I am only here for Gwyneth,” he said again.

“I always was. Freya? Still throwing herself at me like a dog in heat. You think I would waste three years on her if she wasn’t useful?”

My chest tightened painfully.

“She’s lonely. That makes her easy. Always trying to tempt me with those clothes … like some cheap woman.”

I couldn’t breathe. My legs barely held me up.

Three years...

Three years I let him into every part of my life.

From my plans, my fears, even to my mother’s ashes. I thought he was emotionless, untouched by beauty or status. But all along … Gareth had been chasing Gwyneth.

It reminded of the reason my mother died of heartbreak. The day my mother learned my father had a hidden mistress and another pup, something inside her broke. She stopped eating, stopped talking, started scratching at her own skin until she bled.

I was eight when they took her to the psychiatric wing. Her empty eyes looked at me one last time. One day, she walked into the sea wearing pearls and never returned. They called it an “accident.”

Gwyneth moved into our home the next week. Took my room. Called my mother “that unstable woman.”

When I was ten, she accused me of pushing her down the stairs. My father slapped me in front of everyone. I should have walked away. Should have yelled. But I stood in Gareth’s doorway, frozen, as he finally noticed me.

He didn’t even flinch. He stood up slowly, grabbed his clothes, and dressed without shame like I was nothing but a low-rank Beta who forgot to knock.

“Even if I’m your warrior … you should knock before entering, Lady Freya,” he dryly said.

Lady Freya. As if he didn’t know every detail of my life. As if he hadn’t held me on the bathroom floor when I lost my mother’s castle in court and cried until I couldn’t breathe. He picked up his sketchbook carefully, wiping it like it was something precious.

I swallowed my pain and said, “Tomorrow is an event I’m organizing. You will follow me as my warrior.”

“Will Lady Gwyneth attend?”

My heart tore apart.

“W-What? It’s a tribute for my mother … for her death anniversary! Why would I invite her?!”

Gareth’s expression darkened instantly, not out of respect for my mother. But it was because I insulted Gwyneth.

“Follow me tomorrow. That is an order,” I said, turning away as my throat burned.

Then, just loud enough for me to hear, he murmured, “She’s still chasing me… thinks one night in my bed changed anything. It’s pathetic.”

I stopped. Gareth didn’t know I heard. He didn’t care if I had.

To him, I was nothing but a stepping stone. I left the door wide open behind me.

Let the cold wind sweep in. Let the truth settle over everything. My story in this pack was ending.

And I was walking away from the chaos.

The next evening, Gareth waited at the bottom of the stone staircase in the pack hall. His hand stretched out, as he always did, expecting me to take it. But I didn’t.

For the first time in three years, I walked past him without a word. Gareth froze for a moment, surprise flickering in his sharp wolfish eyes, then quickly regained his calm, predator’s mask. He followed me in silence, sitting across from me in the carriage like a stranger I had never known.

Tonight was mine. It was the ceremony to celebrate my mother as the late Luna of the Silverfang Pack. I celebrated it by showing my hobby, knitting gowns. Six gowns I had spent years preparing.

Each stitch carried a memory of pain, of love lost, of a mother who had died broken.

The collection was my message to the world. It was a message no one could ignore. To the eight-year-old girl who watched her mother give up life while the pack ignored her cries.

One by one, the gowns appeared under the full moon’s silver light. The Ariadne gown was a soft pink, echoing my mother’s young love for my father. The Descent gown was shaped like a trapped bird, the moment she realized he had married her for power.

Meanwhile, the Unspoken gown was a deep cerulean gown that showed the night my father’s mistress was revealed and my mother was locked away for ‘causing a scene’.

After that, the Inheritance gown, a midnight black gown embroidered with thorned vines, the strength she passed to me through pain.

Last but not least was the Resurrection gown. It was a bright scarlet, sharp and fierce, the fire she had lit in my soul.

The pack applauded, howling in approval. But when the final gown appeared, my chest froze. Gwyneth stepped onto the stage. Wearing it.

The gown I had sewn with trembling hands, tears dripping onto the fabric. It held a piece of my mother. Her hair woven into the brooch at the collar. Her heartbeat. Her essence.

I gasped, horror slicing through me.

“No!” I stumbled forward, trying to stop her.

“She cannot wear that! She can’t! No!”

Before I could reach the stage, a hand gripped my wrist, bruising. I spun around. It was Gareth. His fingers dug into my skin. His eyes were unreadable, like a wolf who had already claimed its prey.

“Let go of me!” I hissed, trembling with rage.

“That gown carries my mother’s hair! And Gwyneth is my mother’s killer … why is she wearing it? Don’t you see?!”

He didn’t flinch.

“Do not cause a scene, Lady Freya. This is not about you.”

I yanked my arm free, staggering back as my world collapsed. Then, a deep voice rang across the hall. A tall man in ceremonial black stepped forward.

“My name is Alwin Oakwood, the Beta of Alpha Gareth, Alpha of the Grey Wind Pack,” he announced, bowing gracefully.

“Our Alpha believes all things beautiful should belong to their rightful owner. All these gowns belong to one person and that is Lady Gwyneth.”

Gwyneth pressed her gloved hand to her chest, pretending to be embarrassed.

“Oh … I had no idea Alpha Gareth would show me such honor. I am… deeply grateful. I hope to meet him soon. I have never seen him before.”

The pack members murmured, flashing their eyes with excitement.

“Gareth? The Alpha no one has ever seen?”

“And Lady Gwyneth has already captured his attention?”

“She must be special to earn such favor!”

I could barely breathe.

“What is this?” I whispered, voice sharp.

Before I could step closer, attendants rolled out the other five gowns. My other dresses, my life’s work, were hung carelessly on wooden racks, no reverence, no protection.

“All six gowns are gifts to Lady Gwyneth Greywind from Alpha Gareth,” the Beta continued.

“Who says Lady Freya should know her place and not interfere with the innocent Lady Gwyneth?”

The pack stared at me like I was a wolf trapped in a snare. Gwyneth looked around, wide-eyed, pretending innocence.

“Lady Freya … please don’t be mad. I never wanted to steal your spotlight. I’m sorry…”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear everything apart. Cry until my heart broke.

Gareth stood behind me, silent, watching. His eyes were cold, like a judge delivering punishment. He didn’t need words. He looked at me like I deserved this humiliation.

Public. Precise.

A lesson for daring to defy him.

I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. When the ceremony ended, all my dresses were gone. My tribute to my mother stolen. My name was erased.

I didn’t watch Gareth leaning toward Gwyneth with admiration. I didn’t watch Gwyneth’s sly smile.

What I knew was that I shifted into my wolf form to the old countryside farmhouse, the one on the edge of the forest. I almost collapsed once I reached the farmhouse.

I went to the garden. My mother’s garden. The one she fought to keep from being destroyed for a hidden pack vault.

The jasmine had bloomed early. I stood beneath it, in heels and ruin, a woman left with nothing. And I cried. Not polite tears. Not quiet ones. The kind that shook the soul. The kind that came from the deepest part of a broken girl.

Not just because I had loved Gareth, my fated mate, with a fire he used to burn me.

Not just because the pack adored Gwyneth and marked me as a villain.

But because I had let go of every piece of love I had ever given to this pack. Every hope I had ever held.

My screams echoed through the forest, unanswered.