The night before my wedding, I wore champagne silk and smiled until my cheeks ached.

Crystal chandeliers burned above the Ravenshade Pack estate. White roses crowded every table. I had written all one hundred and twenty invitations by hand. I had rewritten my vows for two months straight.

I had even turned down the Northern Pack Archives. My dream job. Because a future Luna stays home.

Across the ballroom, Ronan Ashford raised his glass. He was the Alpha heir, my fated mate, and the man I had loved for seven years.

"To tomorrow!" he shouted. "To the Moon Goddess finally getting her way!"

Everyone cheered. I laughed with them.

Then Brielle Hayes slid onto the arm of his chair. My best friend. The woman who had cried with me in the bridal shop.

"Boring," she sang. "Let's play a Moonstone Oath."

Jace Bennett, Ronan's Beta, lowered his drink. "Bri, those are binding."

"That's what makes them fun." She scooped a handful of moonlight candies from the silver tray and closed her fist. "Ronan. Guess how many. Winner names one thing the loser has to do."

Ronan barely glanced at her hands. "Five."

She opened her right fist. Three candies.

"Oh, no." Brielle pouted and reached for a glass of strong liquor. "Fine. I'll drink."

"Wait." Ronan caught her wrist. He opened his left palm. Two more candies rolled out. "Three plus two. You win, Bri."

My smile froze.

I had seen it. Before she grabbed the candy, Ronan had leaned in and peeked at her hands. He had known the whole time.

Brielle didn't miss a beat. She pulled a folded black slip of paper from her clutch. Already written. Already waiting.

She read it out loud.

"Postpone your bonding ceremony with Sienna for three years."

The room went dead quiet.

Then it exploded.

Jace was on his feet first. "Are you insane? Ronan, tomorrow isn't just a wedding. The Council confirms Sienna as Luna tomorrow!"

"Relax, Jace." Brielle pressed the black slip onto the moonstone at the center of the table. Blue runes flared under her fingers. "I never joke about a bet."

Every wolf in the room felt it. The oath had taken.

I waited for Ronan to get angry. To tear the paper. To laugh it off.

He took her hand instead.

"A bet's a bet," he said. "I lost fair and square."

Fair. I almost choked on the word.

I walked to him. My voice came out smaller than I wanted.

"Ronan. Are you really pushing our wedding back three years?"

He pinched my cheek like I was a child asking for dessert.

"Sweetheart, we're fated. Three years is a blink for wolves." His thumb tapped my jaw. "Don't be dramatic. Breaking an oath brings bad luck on the pack. You wouldn't want that over one party, would you?"

One party.

The guests suddenly found their shoes fascinating. Near the bar, two she-wolves whispered behind their hands.

"Poor thing."

"Seven years, and he still picks Brielle."

I looked at Ronan. At his easy grin. At Brielle's fingers still laced through his.

And I felt nothing crack. It was already broken. I just hadn't noticed.

"I don't understand," I said calmly. "But I accept your decision."

His shoulders dropped in relief. "See? That's my girl. You're finally growing up."

He didn't notice the clock. He didn't notice midnight had already passed.

The estate doors swung open.

Callum Voss walked in wearing a black suit, pushing a three-tier cake topped with white sugar roses. Callum was the Alpha of the neighboring Ironvale Pack, and the only guest who hadn't been drinking.

"Happy birthday, Sienna," he said.

Twenty-seven candles flickered.

Ronan blinked. Then he clapped, too loud. "Right! Her birthday! Everyone, come on—cake! We'll make it a birthday party instead!"

A few people clapped with him. Weakly.

I picked up the knife. Ronan draped his arm around me for the photos, and his jacket swung open against my hip.

Something rattled in his pocket.

I reached in without asking. My fingers came out full of moonlight candies.

He didn't even flinch.

"You planned this," I said.

"I let her win." He shrugged. "Bri's not feeling well. She can't drink that much. What was I supposed to do?"

"Tell her no."

"Sienna." He sighed, patient, like I was the one being unreasonable. "If it were you, you'd do the same thing."

I laughed.

I didn't mean to. It just came out, short and dry, and Ronan frowned like he'd heard a strange noise.

I set the candies on the cake plate and walked away.

I found Brielle by the window, fixing her lipstick in the glass.

"Why?" I asked.

She didn't turn around. "Why what?"

"You helped me pick my dress. You held my hand when I chose the flowers. Why would you destroy my wedding?"

Brielle capped her lipstick and finally faced me. No guilt. Not even a flicker.

"Because I love Ronan." She smiled. "I've stepped aside for you for seven years, Sienna. Now it's your turn."

I stared at her.

Seven years of sleepovers. Seven years of secrets. Seven years of her sitting at my table.

It was so ridiculous I almost wanted to applaud.

I turned to leave.

A glass of warm water appeared in front of me. Callum stood at my shoulder, close enough that only I could hear him.

"Seven years ago," he murmured, "I made you a promise. If you were twenty-seven and still didn't have the happiness you deserved, I'd ask you to marry me."

My fingers tightened around the glass.

His dark eyes held mine. Steady. Unhurried. He had never once broken his word to me.

"So tell me, Sienna," he said quietly. "Does that promise still stand?"

I didn't answer him.

Not yet.

I set down the water. I picked up the silver dice cup from the gaming table and turned to face Brielle.

Then I spoke loud enough for the whole ballroom to hear.

"Since you love gambling so much, Brielle—why don't you and I make a bet too?"

The music stopped.

Ronan's glass froze halfway to his lips.

And for the first time all night, Brielle stopped smiling.

The silence lasted one heartbeat.

Then Jace slammed his palm on the table. "Yes! Now we're talking!"

Two of the groomsmen whooped. One of them, a lanky wolf named Theo, dug into his vest pocket and slapped a pale blue stone onto the felt.

"I'll put up my moonstone for the stakes," he said. "Win it back, Sienna. Win the whole damn wedding back."

Someone started a slow clap. Someone else laughed.

Brielle didn't laugh. Her fingers closed around her wine glass so hard her knuckles went white. Her eyes darted to Ronan, then to me, then back to Ronan.

She hadn't planned for this. In seven years, I had never once fought back.

I slid the silver dice cup across the table until it stopped in front of her.

"If I win," I said, "you give me back tomorrow's wedding."

Brielle wet her lips. Her chin lifted. "Fine. If that's what you—"

A hand came down on the cup.

Ronan's hand.

"Enough." His voice was flat and cold. "Stop this, Sienna."

"I'm talking to Brielle."

"And I'm talking to you." He didn't move his hand. "The first bet was sealed on the moonstone. Every wolf here felt it. You don't get a do-over because you're upset."

"Upset," I repeated.

"Yes. Upset. Embarrassed. Whatever you want to call it." His grip on the cup tightened. "This isn't how a future Luna behaves."

Before I could answer, Brielle made a small, wet sound.

She pressed her hand over her mouth and doubled forward. "Ugh—sorry, I think the wine—"

Ronan released me instantly. He didn't even look at me as he stepped around the table. His arm wrapped around Brielle's waist like it had done it a thousand times.

"Easy. Easy, Bri. I've got you." He snapped his fingers at a passing server. "Warm water. Now. Not cold—warm."

The server ran.

I stood there with my empty hand still hovering over the cup.

Last month, a rogue pack had hit the moonstone mine while I was doing inventory. I'd taken claws across my ribs. Twelve stitches. Ronan had sat beside my bed in the infirmary for exactly nine minutes.

Then his phone rang.

"Bri's car broke down on the ridge road," he'd said, already pulling on his coat. "You're fine here, right? The healers are right outside."

I'd said yes. I always said yes.

I swallowed the taste of that memory and picked the dice cup back up.

"Then I'll bet with you, Ronan."

The room went still again. Even the server froze with the water glass halfway across the floor.

"High or low?" I asked softly.

Ronan's face darkened. He kept one hand on Brielle's back, but his eyes locked onto me.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Very."

"You can't take a loss like an adult, so you're dragging me into it?" He let out a sharp laugh. "Sienna, when did you become a woman with no sense of fair play?"

Jace stepped forward. "Ronan, come on, she's just trying to—"

Ronan turned his head. Just once. Just a look.

Jace shut his mouth and stepped back.

I didn't argue. There was nothing left to argue about.

I turned the silver cup over and lifted it off the felt.

There was nothing underneath.

No dice. Not one.

Theo leaned in, squinting. A few guests craned their necks. Brielle's hand slowly fell away from her mouth.

"It's empty," Jace murmured. "There's no dice. She—she couldn't have won. No matter what he guessed."

"That's right." I set the cup down with a small clink. "I was never going to win."

Ronan stared at the empty felt. A muscle jumped in his cheek.

"Then what the hell was this?"

"A question." I met his eyes. "I wanted to know if you'd give me one fair chance. Just one."

He reached for my wrist. "Sienna—"

I stepped back. His fingers closed on air.

I pointed at the cup.

"You lost our wedding on purpose for her. You peeked at her hands and filled your pocket with candy so she'd win." My voice didn't shake. That surprised me more than anyone. "But you wouldn't even play a game with me that you couldn't lose."

Ronan's face went red, then white.

"You're unbelievable." He jabbed a finger toward me. "Seven years. Seven years, and you're standing here doubting me in front of the whole pack?"

"I'm not doubting you. I'm finally seeing you."

"I'm your fated mate!" His voice cracked through the ballroom. "I could wait ten years for you and never change my mind. Ten! And you can't even wait three?"

I didn't answer.

I just looked at him. At his arm, still curled around Brielle's waist. At Brielle, leaning into him, her lashes lowered, her lips curving just slightly.

And I understood.

Ronan wasn't afraid of losing a bet.

He was afraid of Brielle losing the one she'd stolen.

He sighed hard through his nose, like I'd exhausted him. "We'll talk when you've calmed down."

The party limped on after that. Nobody really danced. At three in the morning, Ronan guided Brielle toward the doors, his jacket around her shoulders.

He paused beside me just long enough to say, "Bri's not well. I'm driving her home. You can figure out a ride, right?"

He didn't wait for my answer.

The doors swung shut behind them.

Outside, the night air bit at my bare arms. I stood on the stone steps, staring at the empty drive.

Headlights clicked on.

A black car rolled up, and Callum stepped out. He walked around and opened the passenger door. Then he shrugged out of his suit jacket and settled it over my shoulders. It was still warm.

He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't ask if I'd cried.

"You don't need to decide tonight," he said.

I slid into the seat. He crouched beside the open door, and when he opened his palm, something glinted in the dashboard light.

An old silver coin. Worn smooth at the edges.

My throat closed.

Seven years ago, at the river festival, I'd flipped that coin and lost a silly bet to him. I'd laughed and pressed it into his hand. "A bet's a bet," I'd said. "I always pay up."

He'd kept it. All this time.

I traced the coin's rim with one fingertip.

"If I say yes," I whispered, "would you gamble with our wedding too?"

Callum didn't smile. He didn't joke. He looked at me like the question deserved every ounce of his attention.

"I'd bet all of Ironvale and lose it without blinking," he said. "But I would never put you on the table."

Past the trees, the sky started to pale. The first thin strip of gold slid through the windshield and landed across my face.

I closed my fingers over his, coin and all.

"Then three days from now," I said quietly, "we hold our wedding."

Callum went very still.

And somewhere back inside the estate, the moonstone on the gaming table flickered blue one more time—as if something, somewhere, had just been set in motion.

My phone woke me at seven.

Then again at 7:02. Then 7:05.

I answered the fourth call without opening my eyes.

"Sienna Whitmore, what is going on?" My mother didn't bother with hello. "The Moon Goddess Hall just called me. They said the Ashford ceremony is *postponed*. Postponed! Your aunt already flew in from the coast!"

"I know, Mom."

"You know? That's all you have to say?"

"For now."

I hung up before she could cry. The phone buzzed again right away.

The wedding planner sounded like she'd swallowed a wasp. "Miss Whitmore, I have one hundred and twenty guests booked at the lodge. Do I cancel? Extend? Who's paying the deposit?"

"Give me until noon."

The third call was Elder Garrick. He didn't shout. That was worse.

"Child," he said slowly, "what did you do to offend the future Alpha?"

I stared at the ceiling. "I asked him for a fair chance."

"That isn't an answer."

"It's the only one I have, Elder."

When I finally scrolled through my messages, there were sixty-three of them. Some said *Stay strong, honey.* Some said *Called it.* One just said *LOL.*

None were from Ronan.

But Brielle had posted on the pack link at 5:14 that morning.

A photo. Ronan on the estate steps, settling his jacket around her shoulders. His hand rested on her arm. The same hand that had held mine at my father's funeral. The same hand that had slid a ring onto my finger.

Her caption read: *A real promise is never broken.*

I set the phone down. Picked it up again. Dialed.

He answered on the sixth ring.

"What?"

Behind him, a soft voice whined. "Ronan, the nurse said I have to change into the gown. Help me with the zipper?"

"One sec, Bri." Then, to me, sharper: "Sienna, I'm busy. Make it quick."

"Where are you?"

"Private clinic. Bri's stomach was still off this morning. I'm not leaving her alone." He exhaled hard. "Listen. Call the hall and cancel. Tell your relatives. Handle the penalty fees from the vendors. You're good at that stuff."

"I'm good at that stuff," I echoed.

"You know what I mean. Don't make this a thing."

I wound the blanket's edge around my finger. "Ronan. Do you remember what yesterday was?"

He went quiet.

One second.

Two.

"Our original wedding date," he said, and his tone softened like he was being generous. "I know you're upset, sweetheart."

My birthday. He'd stood beside my cake and clapped for it. Twenty-seven candles, and he'd forgotten by sunrise.

I didn't correct him.

I ended the call.

---

Seven years fit into one cardboard box.

His letters from university went in first. Blue ink, sloppy hearts in the margins. *You're the only future I want.*

Then the silver hairpin from our first full-moon dance. He'd tucked it behind my ear and whispered that I glowed brighter than the sky.

Then the bracelet. Two names carved side by side. The *R* had worn smooth from my thumb rubbing it.

Last came the ring.

I held it up to the window. The emerald caught the morning light, deep and green.

I'd spent every cent of my savings on that raw stone. Three years of shelving archive books at night. Ronan had found out and laughed, then scooped me into his arms and spun me until I was dizzy.

"You're the most precious treasure I'll ever own," he'd said.

Own.

I should've heard it back then.

I didn't put the ring in the box. I sealed it in a plain white envelope and wrote his full name on the front.

My lawyer, Mira Delacroix, met me at her office door. She weighed the envelope in her palm.

"Just this?"

"Just that. Hand it to him directly. Not to his Beta. Not to anyone else."

She studied my face. "And if he asks for a message?"

"There isn't one."

---

The manager of the Moon Goddess Hall nearly dropped his pen.

"You want to *keep* the booking?"

"I want to transfer it." I slid the form across his desk. "Out of the Ashford family name. Into mine. A private bonding ceremony, three days from now."

He blinked at the paperwork. "Miss Whitmore, the deposit was paid by—"

"By me. Check the receipt."

He checked. His eyebrows climbed. "So it was."

"And I want it in writing that only I can approve changes to the venue. No one else. Not an Alpha heir. Not his friends."

He signed. Stamped it. Then he hesitated, the stamp still raised in his fist.

"Forgive me for asking." He lowered his voice. "Is the groom still Ronan Ashford?"

I smiled. It felt easy for the first time in days.

"No."

---

The council's moonstone altar sat beneath a ring of old oaks, cold even in the afternoon sun.

The priestess was ancient, her braid as white as frost. She read my petition twice. Then she set it aside and gripped my wrist with surprising strength.

"Do you understand what you're asking?"

"I'm asking to end a bond."

"A *fated* bond. With an Alpha's blood." Her clouded eyes searched mine. "The backlash will tear through your wolf. Some she-wolves lose the ability to shift for months. Some for longer. The pain alone has put strong warriors on the ground."

"I know."

"Then why choose it?"

I thought of an empty dice cup. Of candy spilling out of a pocket.

"Pain I can survive," I said. "Being someone's wager, I won't."

She held my gaze a long moment. Then she released me and nodded toward the altar.

I unclasped the mate token from my throat. A silver crescent Ronan had pressed into my hands the night the bond first snapped into place. It was still warm from my skin.

I laid it on the stone.

The priestess offered me a silver blade. I drew it across my palm. The sting was sharp and clean. Red welled up and dripped onto the moonstone, one drop, then three, then a thin line.

The stone began to glow.

"Say it," the priestess murmured.

My voice came out steady.

"I, Sienna Whitmore, reject Ronan Ashford as my fated mate."

The silver-blue mark on my wrist split straight down the middle.

Then the pain hit.

It ripped through my chest like claws turning inside a wound. My knees struck the stone. My wolf screamed somewhere deep in my ribs, and I folded forward, gasping.

And I saw everything.

Ronan at nineteen, kissing me under the library stairs. Ronan at twenty-two, swearing he'd never let me go. Ronan last winter, his chin on my shoulder, whispering, *Always you.*

Every promise cracked apart in front of me.

I didn't cry.

I laughed. One broken, breathless sound against the cold altar.

The priestess's hand settled on my back. "It's done, child."

---

Across the valley, in the Ashford estate, Ronan lifted a moonstone pendant from its velvet box.

"Turn around, Bri."

Brielle swept her hair aside, smiling at her reflection.

The clasp never closed.

Pain slammed into Ronan's chest. The wine glass in his other hand burst, shards and red spraying across the table. Deep inside him, his wolf let out a long, keening howl.

He staggered. Caught the table's edge. His face drained to gray.

"Ronan?" Brielle spun around. "Ronan, what's wrong?"

"Sienna," he rasped.

His phone lit up on the table.

*COUNCIL NOTICE: Your fated mate has rejected your bond. The rejection is complete.*

His bloody fingers fumbled for the screen. He found my name. His thumb hovered over it.

Before he could press call, a second notice flashed across the top.

*Sienna Whitmore has submitted a new marriage registration. Proposed spouse: Alpha Callum Voss.*