The scream came first—my own. It ripped through the room, raw and violent, before I even understood what had happened. My face seared, my skin blistering as though invisible flames crawled beneath it. I clawed blindly at my cheeks, at my eyes, but every frantic touch only deepened the agony.

Somewhere beyond the fire consuming me, Sylvie cried out, “Mommy!”

Her voice was so sharp with terror that it cut through the haze.

I staggered toward her, half-blind, and heard the sound of another vial shattering at her feet. Her cry was shrill, desperate. She collapsed to the floor, clutching her ankle as angry red burns blossomed along her fragile skin.

Above us, laughter.

A boy’s cruel jeer. A girl’s sneering delight.

“She looks hideous now,” Haley spat.

“Monster suits her better,” Theron added coldly.

Through the blur of pain, I forced my gaze upward. They stood there together—Hannah’s children, my stepchildren—gloating, mocking, watching us suffer as though it were sport.

But this hadn’t begun with fire.

Earlier that evening, I had fastened the moonstone earring onto my ear, feeling its faint glow like a heartbeat against my skin. The day should have been radiant—a double celebration. Theron’s ceremony as heir, and my Sylvie’s seventh birthday. Instead, I’d chosen rebellion.

I slipped into the forbidden gown, its embroidery woven with the emblem of my old pack. In the mirror, I had glimpsed not the broken shell I’d become, but the woman I might have been—strong, free, unbowed.

Sylvie had hummed beside me, ribbons tangled in her doll’s hair, her soft tune filling the silence. My smile then had been real, fragile but defiant. I should have known peace could not last here.

The memory shattered as something heavy cracked against my forehead. My body lurched, knees buckling, warm blood running down into the poison already burning across my face. I blinked through the stinging haze to see what struck me—wolfsbane.

My rage snapped loose.

“You—you actually used wolfsbane on us?! Have you lost your minds?!”

I lunged for Theron, seizing his arm. His composure vanished; panic spilled out in his shrill voice.

“Let go, you hag! Don’t touch me!”

Haley darted forward, her teeth sinking into my hand like a feral pup.

“He’s the future Alpha! You’re nothing! Don’t you dare touch him!”

Instinct overtook me. I shoved them both. Hard. Haley struck the ground with a sickening thud, blood pooling as she screamed. Theron dropped to her side, his face twisting with fury.

“You vile witch!” His voice cracked, but the venom in it was real. “I wish you had died instead of our mother!”

His words tore open old scars I’d tried to bury. Hannah—my stepsister, their mother—had once saved me. I had sworn before the Moon Goddess to raise her children as if they were my own. And yet, no matter how I tried, they never were. Not truly.

Behind me, Sylvie’s quiet sobs filled the room, her burned leg trembling beneath her small hands.

The door burst open. Mirelle swept in with servants trailing, her gaze darting first to Theron, then to Haley bleeding on the floor. Fury twisted her face as she turned on me.

“Lyra! What have you done?!”

“They threw wolfsbane!” I spat, my voice shaking with outrage. “On me—and on Sylvie!”

The word alone should have silenced the room. Wolfsbane—the most forbidden of poisons. Its use was punishable by death. Yet Theron lowered his head and whimpered, false guilt dripping from his voice.

“We didn’t mean to… we didn’t know…”

I glared at him. “You expect them to believe I poisoned my own daughter?!”

But Mirelle would not meet my eyes. Instead, she bent protectively over Theron. “He probably thought it was perfume. He only wanted you to look presentable for the ceremony. He’s just a boy.”

“And Sylvie isn’t just a child too?” My voice cracked, fierce and sharp. “He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing. I’ll bring this to the council—he deserves punishment!”

“What punishment?”

The words cut through the air like a blade.

Alpha Rowan stood at the threshold. My former betrothed. The father of the children who had just tried to destroy me. The man who had chosen Hannah instead of me.

His gaze slid over me like ice before narrowing on my gown. His jaw clenched.

“I told you not to wear that. You are not to appear like this at the ceremony.”

“I wore what I should,” I answered, fury vibrating beneath my skin. “But they destroyed everything.”

Rowan’s attention shifted to Theron, who whimpered again, clutching his arm pitifully.

“It was just an accident,” he murmured.

“You’ll blame children now?” Mirelle snapped, glaring at me. “Look at you, dressed in rags you had no right to wear. If it were me, I’d have thrown acid at you myself!”

Rowan didn’t even flinch at her venom. His voice was cold, dismissive.

“Clean yourself up. The visiting alphas will be here shortly. I will not let them see you in this state.”

His eyes swept over me one final time, as though I were nothing but an inconvenience. My temple still bled, my skin blistered, my daughter whimpered in pain. And still, none of them saw her. None of them saw me.

I straightened my spine, my voice steady, unshakable.

“No.”

Rowan stilled. His brow arched. “What did you just say?”

“I’ve had enough,” I declared, the words iron on my tongue. “I have cared for your children as if they were mine, and all they’ve ever given me in return is cruelty. And now they’ve harmed my daughter. I will not remain here another moment. I’m done.”

His frown deepened, irritation flashing in his eyes. “You’re being dramatic. You’ll still stand beside Theron tonight. Stop this nonsense.”

“This isn’t some act!” I roared, the fury clawing its way out of me. “I bled for you. I stood by you. I gave you every piece of myself. And what did you do?” My voice cracked like a whip, each word a wound. “You tore it all away—every single thing I ever valued.”

My chest heaved, but my resolve was unshakable. I met their eyes, unflinching.

“Not anymore. Not this time.”

I straightened, a bitter finality lacing my voice.

“I’m done. I’m walking away. And you’ll never break me again.”

I had barely managed to take two steps toward the door when Mirelle’s voice cut through the heavy air, laced with sweetness that was nothing but venom.

“Well, look at this. She’s running away. Again.”

I froze. Not because I wanted to obey, but because I understood how this pack operated—leaving was never simple. The burn on my forehead still seared from the wolfsbane, the blistered skin a cruel reminder.

“I’m not fleeing,” I rasped, my voice raw with pain and fury. “I’m walking away. There’s nothing left for me here anymore, only wounds and scars that never heal.”

Mirelle tilted her head, feigning innocence, her tone mockingly gentle. “Scars? Please. Do you imagine you’re the only one who’s ever suffered? Stop with the theatrics, Lyra. It’s tiresome.”

“I was in my own room,” I shot back, each word sharp as a blade. “With my daughter. Preparing for her birthday. Remember that, Mirelle? Her birthday. And your precious children destroyed it.”

Theron stepped forward with careful poise, as though this entire moment had been rehearsed. “We only wanted her to look nice. Like our mother used to make her look. You didn’t need to scream that way. You pushed me—and Haley too.”

He pulled back his sleeve, showing a red mark as though it were some grand evidence. “We didn’t even know it was wolfsbane. It wasn’t our fault.”

The silence that followed wasn’t sympathetic. It was cutting.

“Poor Theron,” someone murmured from the crowd.

“What an ungrateful woman,” another whispered. “Always turning herself into the victim.”

Rowan’s voice broke through next, calm in sound but cold in weight. “So tell me, Lyra—is this truly about a dress? About a little skin irritation? Or is this simply your attempt to sabotage Theron’s ceremony?”

“This isn’t about a dress,” I said firmly. “This is about your children hurling wolfsbane at me. At me—and at Sylvie. Our daughter.”

“She shouldn’t have been around in the first place,” Mirelle replied dismissively, her voice light as though she were talking about some stray animal.

“She belongs here,” I snapped. “This is her home.”

Rowan’s voice hardened like steel. “This is the packhouse. And Sylvie… Sylvie is not of the Silver Blood pack.”

“She’s ours, Rowan. Yours and mine. You marked me once. You swore I would be your Luna. You said we would raise her together.”

He said nothing.

“And then you turned away, pretended she didn’t even exist—while I was left to raise children who weren’t mine. You called me family when it was convenient for you, but when it wasn’t—you cast me aside as a rogue.”

His jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

“You demanded I protect them, nurture them, love them. And even now, you expect me to stand beside a boy who burned my skin. But my child?” My voice cracked with grief. “You treated her like she was nothing. Like she wasn’t even your own flesh.”

Finally, he spoke. “You knew what would happen if the Elders ever discovered she was born outside the bond—”

“The Elders?” I laughed, bitter and hollow. “You rejected me after Hannah’s death. Then crept back into my bed when no one was watching. You only cared for tradition when it shielded you. But you shattered it yourself the moment you touched me again.”

Mirelle’s voice lashed out like a whip. “You owed Hannah your life! Those children were all she left behind. They were your responsibility whether you liked it or not. And as for Sylvie? Who even knows if she belongs to Rowan? You had others before—”

The slap rang out before she finished.

“Sylvie is Rowan’s daughter,” I said, my voice steady and unshaken. “And those children? They’re not mine. I never birthed them. I never chose them. I raised them because I made a vow before the Moon Goddess. But that vow never demanded I become a slave to this pack.”

Mirelle gaped at me, stunned into silence.

I turned away, bending down to scoop Sylvie into my arms. Her small frame trembled against me, her sobs muffled against my chest. I carried her toward the door. But Rowan stepped into our path, blocking it with his towering frame.

“You really believe walking out will change anything?” he growled. “You bore my bloodline in that girl. That ties you to this pack, whether you wish it or not.”

“Oh, now blood suddenly matters?” I snapped back, anger flaring. “Then prove it. Raise her. Shield her. Claim her proudly. Or does your pride only extend to children conceived under ceremony?”

He had no reply.

“You promised me once that we’d be mates again. That once things settled, you’d make the announcement. You swore I’d be Luna.”

“You knew that wasn’t possible anymore,” he muttered, low and evasive.

I stepped closer, lowering my tone until it was sharp and dangerous. “No. You wouldn’t keep your promise because claiming me meant admitting you broke a sacred law. That you lay with the mate you had rejected. That you hid your own daughter from the pack.”

His eyes darkened with fury. “You’ll still attend the ceremony. Theron is to be declared Alpha Heir, and you will stand beside him.”

Two guards moved forward, closing in. I adjusted Sylvie in my arms, heart hammering as I glared between them. “And if I refuse?”

Rowan’s gaze didn’t flicker. “Then the Elders will be told everything. About your pregnancy. About your banishment. About your return. You’ll be branded rogue again. And Sylvie—” his voice went icy, deliberate, “—Sylvie will be taken under the care of the Silver Blood pack. For her own safety.”

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Mirelle’s lips curved into a smile.

And for the first time, I understood—they would never allow me to leave freely. Not without extracting their price. I tightened my hold on Sylvie, feeling her small heartbeat pounding against mine. I knew, deep within me, that they would never treat her kindly. They weren’t even doing so now, while I was still here.

I had no choice left but to bend. To compromise.

I walked beside Theron on the path toward the ceremonial grounds, the sting from the wolfsbane wound still burning through my flesh. I forced myself to look steady, though every movement throbbed with pain, because Rowan had made it brutally clear: if I disobeyed, Sylvie would be taken from me.

Theron strode with the air of a young monarch, shoulders squared, chin tilted proudly, his golden eyes gleaming with self-importance. He reveled in the spotlight. As we pushed through the gathered pack, whispers followed like smoke under the pale wash of moonlight.

“He carries himself already like an Alpha.”

“Is that his mother walking with him?”

“No, that’s his aunt—Lyra.”

“Lyra? The same woman who mistreats him and his sister? Why would they allow her to be up there with him?”

Theron either didn’t register their comments or secretly fed on them, basking in the attention like it was meant for him alone. He mounted the platform with a theatrical stride, practically glowing beneath their stares.

I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to let their words strike deeper, though they pressed on me like stones against my chest. I had learned long ago that any show of emotion, any slip of anger or pain, would only be twisted as proof of guilt. I stayed silent because silence was my only shield. I was present not by choice, but by force.

From the edge of the gathering, I caught sight of Sylvie. She stood at Mirelle’s side, small and stiff, her wide eyes darting over the crowd with restless unease. She neither waved nor smiled. She simply stared, rigid and still, as though even the smallest display of disobedience would invite punishment.

The priest appeared, clad in ceremonial robes of black trimmed with silver, raising both hands until the voices of the crowd quieted. His tone carried like thunder.

“Tonight, beneath the sacred eye of the moon, the heir of Alpha Rowan reaches the threshold of manhood. Let the pack bear witness as Theron is recognized among us.”

Cheers rolled through the masses like waves.

Then the priest turned his sharp gaze upon me.

“Lyra, guardian of the heir, remove his ceremonial footwear. Let him step forward into manhood.”

I lowered myself, my knees aching, and reached for Theron’s foot. With deliberate cruelty, he ground his heel into my already injured hand. The shock of pain tore through me like fire. My throat burned with the scream I refused to release as blood welled fresh beneath the bandages. He pulled back smoothly, leaving behind the crimson blotch that spread beneath the cloth. He then bowed dramatically to the crowd, eliciting another wave of applause. The rite was complete.

I wanted nothing more than to disappear. But Rowan’s watchful eyes pinned me down from the high seat, making it clear I was not free to leave. My body moved on instinct, trailing the others toward the banquet hall, each step hollow, each breath nothing but endurance.

Inside, the atmosphere was a cacophony of laughter and cheer. Toasts clanged like bells. Theron occupied the place of honor at the head table, soaking in admiration with the arrogance of someone born for it. Haley, ever the loyal shadow, sat beside him, giggling as she spun a butter knife between her fingers.

Across the hall, I found Sylvie sitting with a young omega woman, her plate untouched, her small body still. Her eyes never left mine. Even when her cup tipped, spilling water down her lap, she didn’t flinch or move. I tried to offer her the faintest smile, to make her believe that I was all right—though I was anything but.

And then Katherine entered.

The room shifted at once, every gaze snapping to her. She crossed the space with calculated confidence, taking the seat beside Rowan as though it had always belonged to her. She laid her hand lightly on his arm, staking her claim.

Haley’s face lit up. “You’re so beautiful! I wish you were my mom.”

Rowan allowed a faint smile.

From across the table, Mirelle’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Certainly a better choice than those other women who birthed strays.”

My jaw clenched. I smoothed my napkin with steady fingers, though beneath the fabric, my knuckles turned white.

“I’ll excuse myself,” I said evenly, forcing calm. “I need a moment.”

The night air outside was sharper, cutting through the suffocating hall. My lungs drew in the cold with relief, but it didn’t last. A sharp thunk split the silence, followed by the sound of young laughter. Curiosity and dread stirred together as I followed the noise to the training yard.

And then I froze.

Theron and several boys were gathered, arrows in hand, laughing with cruel delight as they shot toward a living target. I crept closer, heart pounding—and horror gripped me. Against the far wall stood Sylvie. Her small arms were bound tight behind her back, a rough chalk circle scrawled around her head like a cruel bullseye. Her fragile body trembled, but she stayed upright, her jaw clenched in terrified defiance.

Theron lifted his bow.

The arrow hit her shoulder.

She staggered back, blood spreading through the fabric of her dress, but the boys howled with laughter. One clapped Theron proudly on the back. Yet Sylvie didn’t cry. She fixed her eyes on him, burning, and with a low, animal snarl, drove her wrists against the post until the rope gave way. Then she lunged, striking Theron across the face with all her strength. He stumbled back, stunned.

The other boys shouted, swarming, grabbing at her, dragging her small frame to the ground.

That was when I snapped.

“Take your filthy hands off her!” I roared, hurling one boy aside with raw fury. Sylvie scrambled into my arms, clinging desperately as I bared my teeth at the others. “Try it again, and I swear—”

“Lyra!” Rowan’s voice thundered across the yard.

I spun. He stood framed at the entrance, Mirelle and Katherine flanking him like shadows. Behind them, more wolves gathered, the commotion pulling in onlookers. Sylvie’s blood seeped into my sleeves, warm and terrifying.

“What is happening here?!” Mirelle gasped, voice pitched with false outrage.

“She attacked him!” one boy cried, pointing at Sylvie. “She struck Theron!”

“She bit me!” another shouted, clutching his wrist.

“She was tied up!” I snapped, trembling with fury. “They made her their target! Theron shot her with an arrow. Look at her shoulder!”

Mirelle’s eyes narrowed, her tone like ice. “That child is unstable. Exactly like her mother.”

I dug my nails into the dirt, holding back the scream that threatened to tear me apart. Sylvie shivered in my embrace, her blood soaking through my clothes. I stayed anchored to her.

Rowan’s eyes swept the scene—the boys holding their small injuries, Theron rubbing his cheek, and then Sylvie, trembling but unbroken. Finally, his verdict came.

“Take the boys to the healers. Their wounds require attention. And bring Sylvie to the west backroom. No chains.”

“She needs a healer,” I said, voice cracking. “She’s bleeding badly.”

Rowan nodded once to a guard. “See to her injury.”

“And after that?” I asked, rising to my feet, every heartbeat pounding like a drum.

His expression stayed unreadable. “Then I will decide her punishment.”

As the guards approached, Sylvie clutched tighter to my sleeve, refusing to let go. Fury surged through me like wildfire.

“Thank you,” I said, each word edged with ice. “But I’ll tend her wounds myself.”

Without waiting for permission, I strode away, ignoring the calls behind me. Because deep down, I knew—if I stayed in that place a second longer, I might not survive what I would do next.