I kept my eyes shut when the morning light came through the curtains.

Not because I couldn't see it. I could. Every dust particle floating in those pale gold beams, every crack in the plaster ceiling above me, every detail of the room I'd spent five years navigating by touch alone—I could see all of it now, sharp and clear and almost unbearably real.

But Travis didn't know that.

And I needed him to keep not knowing.

My wolf snarled at the back of my skull, low and vicious. *Kill him. He touched us. He lied to us. Tear his throat out.*

I pressed my nails into my palm under the blanket. *Not yet,* I told her. *Not until we know everything.*

She didn't like that answer. She'd been raging since the moment my sight came back last night, since the moment I'd seen Travis's face above mine and understood what had been done to me. Five years. Five years of darkness, and someone had used that darkness as a weapon.

I needed to know who had built it. All of it. Every brick.

The door opened. I went still, softening my breathing into the slow rhythm of sleep.

His footsteps were quiet. Careful. He moved like he was afraid of waking me, which almost made me laugh. Almost.

I felt him sit in the chair beside the bed—not on the bed, just beside it. Like he was keeping his distance. Like he felt guilty.

Good.

"Melody." His voice was low. That same voice I'd mistaken for Colt's a hundred times in the dark. Now that I could think clearly, now that the shock had settled into something colder and sharper, I couldn't understand how I'd ever confused them. Travis's voice was rougher. Quieter. It didn't have Colt's easy arrogance in it.

I let my eyes flutter open, unfocused, aimed slightly past his shoulder the way I'd trained myself to look for years.

"Travis?" I made my voice small. Confused.

"Yeah." A pause. "I brought you breakfast."

I heard the soft clink of a tray being set on the nightstand. My wolf caught the scent—eggs, toast, something warm. He'd actually cooked.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

I watched him through my lashes as he stood and moved toward the window. He kept his back to me, his shoulders tense, his hands loose at his sides. He was holding something back. I could see it in the rigid line of his spine.

Good. Let him hold it back. Let him choke on it.

I ate slowly, listening to the sounds of the estate waking up around us, and I planned.

---

I waited until I heard his shower running before I moved.

Three minutes. That's all I gave myself.

I crossed the room in silence, my wolf lending me a grace I'd never had before—fluid, soundless, nothing like the careful shuffle I'd performed for five years. I slipped out the side door and into the cool morning air.

Colt's scent hit me almost immediately. That expensive woody cologne, layered over something I'd never noticed before—something lazy and self-satisfied, like a wolf who'd never been hungry a day in his life.

I followed it.

The Alpha's estate sat at the northern edge of pack territory, all stone and glass and deliberate grandeur. I kept to the tree line, moving through the shadows with my wolf's eyes cutting through the early morning dimness like it was nothing. Like I'd always been able to do this.

I heard them before I saw them. Laughter. A woman's voice, bright and sharp.

*Brittany.*

I crouched behind the hedgerow beneath the east-facing terrace and pressed my phone to record.

"—honestly, the look on her face when you shoved her at Travis." Brittany's laugh was the same as I remembered from school. That high, artificial sound. "I would have paid to see it up close."

"She didn't even fight it." Colt's voice, amused. Careless. "Just stood there with her mouth open. Pathetic."

"Five years of waiting for you to come home." Brittany made a soft, mocking sound. "And you spent them in my bed."

"Best five years of my life."

My jaw ached. I realized I was grinding my teeth.

"She actually believed you were the one in exile?" Brittany asked.

"Every single day." Colt's voice dropped into something that might have been pride. "Blind and wolfless and completely mine to manage. Travis did all the suffering. I just reaped the benefits."

I got every word.

---

The archives were in the lower level of the Castillo estate's east wing, behind a door that required a guard rotation and a key code.

It took me eleven minutes to get inside.

My wolf guided me past the two guards with an ease that felt almost insulting—like the pack's security had been built to stop the Melody they thought I was. The weak one. The blind one.

Not this.

The files were meticulously organized. Antonio Castillo was nothing if not thorough.

I found Colt's incident report first. The rogue attack, five years ago. The original account, before it was rewritten. I read Colt's name where it should have been. His negligence. His cowardice. The cover-up.

Then I found Travis's exile records.

Five years of documented brutality. Locations logged. Injuries noted in clinical, detached language—lacerations, silver exposure, starvation protocols. Someone had been keeping track of exactly how much damage was done to him.

I stood in the dark archive with the files in my hands and felt something shift inside me.

Not softness. Not forgiveness.

Just a new, colder kind of fury, with a sharper edge than before.

I photographed every page.

I had everything I needed. Almost.

Travis's quarters smelled like him—that scent I'd mistaken for Colt's in the dark, now unmistakable in the daylight I could finally see. Earthy. Restrained. Nothing like Colt's expensive cologne.

I shouldn't have been here. But my wolf pushed me forward, hungry for answers I wasn't sure I wanted.

The room was sparse. Functional. A bed made with military precision, a single chair, a desk with nothing on it but a lamp. No photographs. No personal touches. Like he'd never allowed himself to settle anywhere, even in his own space.

I moved quickly, checking drawers, the closet, under the bed. Nothing. Just clothes and weapons and—

My fingers caught on something beneath the nightstand. A loose floorboard.

I pried it up.

The wooden box was small, worn smooth by years of handling. My hands trembled as I lifted the lid.

Inside: tiny carved wolves. Dozens of them, each one different. Some running, some howling, some curled in sleep. The craftsmanship was crude but careful, like someone had spent hours on each one with nothing but a knife and too much time alone.

Beneath them, folded carefully, was a piece of fabric. Faded blue cotton, torn at the edges.

Bloodstained.

I lifted it, and the world tilted.

*A little girl's voice, high and determined: "It's okay. I won't hurt you."*

*A wolf pup, ribs showing through matted fur, wearing a torn blue shirt someone had tried to fashion into a collar. Shaking. Starving.*

*"Here. Take this." Small hands offering bread stolen from the pack kitchens. "You can't stay here, but... come back tomorrow. I'll bring more."*

*Golden eyes, too old for a pup, staring up at her like she'd hung the moon.*

I dropped the fabric like it had burned me.

That pup. That starving rogue pup I'd found on the edge of pack territory when I was ten years old. The one I'd fed in secret for weeks until he disappeared.

Travis.

My stomach lurched. I pressed my hand against the wall, breathing hard.

He'd loved me since then. Since I was a child. Since before I even knew what a mate bond was.

And he'd let Colt use him. Let Colt send him into exile. Let Colt put him in my bed under a lie—all for the chance to be near me.

That wasn't love. That was sickness. Obsession wrapped in devotion, toxic and suffocating.

I shoved the box back under the floorboard and left before I could do something stupid. Like cry. Like scream.

Like forgive him.

---

The nausea hit me halfway back to my room.

I barely made it to the bathroom before I was on my knees, retching into the toilet. My wolf whined, pressing close, and I felt her concern like a physical weight.

*What's wrong with us?*

She didn't answer in words. Instead, she showed me.

A pulse of awareness, deep in my belly. Two tiny sparks of life, barely formed but unmistakably there.

Pups.

I sat back against the cold tile, my hand pressed to my stomach.

No. No, no, no.

My wolf pushed forward again, insistent. She flooded my senses with Travis's scent—not the cologne or the soap, but something underneath. Something primal and earthy, like ancient forests and stone. Lycan.

And she recognized it. Claimed it.

*Mate,* she insisted. *Our mate. Our pups.*

"He lied to us," I whispered.

*He suffered for us.*

"He touched us under a lie."

*He loves us.*

"That's not enough!"

But she wouldn't listen. She was a wolf, not a woman. She didn't care about betrayal or manipulation or the five years I'd spent in darkness believing a fantasy. She only cared about the bond, the scent, the biological imperative screaming that Travis Knight was ours.

I pressed my forehead against my knees and tried to think.

I was pregnant. With Travis's pups. In a pack that had treated me like garbage for years, led by an Alpha who'd gambled me away like property, surrounded by wolves who'd laughed while it happened.

I couldn't stay here. Couldn't let my children be born into this.

But I couldn't leave yet either. Not until I'd burned it all down.

I stood slowly, rinsing my mouth, meeting my own eyes in the mirror. Silver now, like my wolf. Like the Luna bloodline Elena had awakened.

I had evidence. I had power. I had a wolf who was finally, furiously mine.

And I had a choice to make.

Stay and destroy them. Or run and protect what was growing inside me.

My hand settled over my stomach, protective and possessive.

Maybe I could do both.

The moon was dark when I slipped past the eastern border.

No light to guide me, but I didn't need it anymore. My wolf's eyes cut through the blackness like it was nothing, every tree root and stone clear as daylight. I moved in silence, my footsteps swallowed by the forest floor, until I reached the ancient relay point—a circle of standing stones that hummed with old magic.

I pressed my palm against the largest stone and reached out through the mind-link, pushing past the pack bonds that tried to tether me to Silvercrest, searching for the one connection that had always been there, buried beneath everything else.

*Father.*

The response was immediate. Shocked. *Melody?*

*I can see,* I told him. *My wolf awakened. I'm Luna bloodline, just like Mom.*

Silence. Then a wave of emotion so fierce it nearly knocked me backward—pride, relief, rage all tangled together.

*Tell me everything.*

So I did. The fake exile. Colt's betrayal. Travis in my bed under a lie. Brittany's cruelty. The evidence I'd gathered. And finally, my hand pressed against my stomach, I told him about the pups.

The fury that rolled through the mind-link made the stones around me vibrate.

*I'm coming for you,* Stephen growled. *Tonight. I'll bring warriors—*

*No.* I kept my mental voice steady. *Not yet. I need you to help me destroy them first. Then I'll leave. On my terms.*

Another pause. Then, reluctantly: *What do you need?*

I smiled in the darkness. *Everything.*

---

The Silvercrest estate transformed over the next three days.

Banners in silver and gold hung from every surface. Tables laden with expensive food lined the great hall. Wolves in formal dress moved through the corridors, preparing for the inter-pack ceremony that would unite Silvercrest and Nightshade through Colt and Brittany's public mating.

I watched it all through my lowered lashes, playing blind, playing weak.

Brittany arrived on the second day with an entourage that took up half the guest wing. She swept into the main hall wearing a dress that probably cost more than I'd seen in five years, and on her neck—right there for everyone to see—was Colt's claiming mark. Fresh. Deliberate.

She saw me standing near the kitchen entrance and her smile turned vicious.

"Oh, Melody." She crossed the hall, her heels clicking against marble. "Still here? How... quaint."

I kept my eyes unfocused, aimed past her shoulder. "Brittany."

"I have a job for you." She gestured to the omega supervisor hovering nearby. "She'll be serving drinks during the ceremony. Make sure she understands how to hold a tray without dropping it. We can't have the blind girl making a mess."

The supervisor looked uncomfortable. "Miss Hayes, perhaps someone else—"

"Did I ask for suggestions?" Brittany's voice went cold. "Put her on serving duty. I want her close enough to see what a real Luna looks like."

She walked away, laughing with her friends, and I felt my wolf snarl.

*Soon,* I promised her. *Very soon.*

---

The ceremony preparations gave me exactly what I needed—access.

I moved through the estate with a serving tray, invisible in my omega uniform, and no one questioned why the blind girl was wandering near the audio-visual control room. No one noticed when I slipped inside during a shift change.

The system was sophisticated. Multiple screens, complex wiring, controlled from a central hub that would broadcast to every display in the great hall during the ceremony.

I pulled out the drive my father had sent through his network. Encrypted. Untraceable. Loaded with every piece of evidence I'd gathered—the recordings, the documents, the photographs.

It took me four minutes to integrate it into the ceremony's presentation queue. Timed perfectly. Unavoidable.

I was sliding the panel closed when I felt him.

Travis.

His scent hit me first, then the weight of his presence in the doorway. I didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge him. Just kept my movements slow and careful, like I was still navigating by touch.

"Melody." His voice was rough. Strained. "What are you doing here?"

"I got lost," I said quietly. "Looking for the kitchen."

Silence. I could feel him watching me, could sense the tension radiating off him in waves.

"You shouldn't be working this ceremony," he said finally. "It's not right."

"Nothing about this is right." I turned toward him, keeping my eyes unfocused. "But I don't have a choice, do I? I'm just property. Something to be handed around."

I heard him move closer, heard the floorboards creak under his weight. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

Two words. Like they could fix five years. Like they could erase the lie.

I walked past him without responding.

---

The ceremony began at sunset.

I stood against the wall in my omega uniform, holding a tray of champagne glasses, watching the great hall fill with wolves from both packs. Colt stood at the center in an expensive suit, Brittany beside him in white, both of them glowing with smug satisfaction.

I caught Travis across the room, standing with the other high-ranking wolves. His hands were clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. Every time someone laughed at a joke about the "blind omega," every time Brittany made a show of ordering me around, I saw his knuckles go whiter.

The floor tiles near his feet began to crack.

Small fractures at first, spreading outward like a web. The wolves nearest him shifted uncomfortably, sensing something wrong but not understanding what. Travis's aura was leaking—not Beta, not even Alpha.

Something older. Stronger.

Lycan.

I felt my wolf respond, pressing forward, recognizing her mate even as I tried to push her back.

*Not yet,* I told her. *Wait.*

The ceremony master called for attention. The lights dimmed. The screens flickered to life.

And I smiled.