In the fifth year of her union to Alpha Xander Ashveil of the Ashveil Pack, Elara attended her triplets’ Moon Academy exhibition.

The teachers had prepared a “fun lineage project.” Every pack family received blood-bond sigils and today the results were displayed upon the crystal screen at the center of the grand hall.

Then, a single glowing line of runes stole the breath from Elara’s lungs.

Father: Xander Ashveil. Mother: Ravenna Silvermane.

Before she could process the words, another parchment shimmered into existence — a glitch in the spell, revealing what had been hidden by Alpha decree.

Surrogate: Elara Windspire. Compensation: 2.5 million moonmarks.

The crowd froze. Then came the whispers.

“Surrogate? A hired womb?”

“So that’s why Alpha Ashveil chose a nameless orphan!”

Laughter rippled through the hall like snapping twigs. Noble wolves leaned closer, their silver eyes gleaming with mockery, pointing at her as if she were tainted prey.

“N-no… it must be an error,” Elara stammered, stepping back as her vision blurred. Her body trembled, yet her voice rose with desperate conviction. “This isn’t true. My mate loves me. He would never…”

Her heeled boots clattered against the marble as she fled. The chill wind bit through her gown as she raced toward the royal stables, shifting halfway, her wolf’s claws scraping the frost-kissed earth. She leapt upon a waiting carriage drawn by night-steeds and tore across the forest road toward the Ivory Moon Palace, where her mate was said to be holding an important council meeting.

When she reached the top floor of the crystal spire, low and mocking laughter drifted through the half-open doors. It froze the blood in her veins.

“Ravenna,” one of the Beta lords chuckled, “Alpha Xander has planned this night for moons. The banquet, the moonflowers from Ironvale, the harpists — ever since your divorce decree was sealed.”

“Xander,” Ravenna murmured softly, her voice smooth as silver mist, “you knew my body could never bear a pup, and so you placed my seed within Elara’s womb — letting her suffer the agony my flesh could not endure. Now that I have returned, what if she learns the truth and despises me?”

Elara’s hand flew to her mouth. She waited… waited for her mate to deny it.

Instead came his calm, steady voice, deep as winter stone.

“All these years she lived in luxury while you were exiled. Now that you stand again under my protection, what she held shall be restored to you tenfold. As for Elara…” He exhaled faintly, dismissive. “She has my crest, my roof, my name. That is her compensation. Delaying her healing ritual for a week will not kill her.”

Laughter followed.

“Back then, we used to joke that he’d never win you, Ravenna,” a lord teased. “As he’s heartbroken, he mated with someone resembled you instead.”

Ravenna’s lips curved in a soft, knowing smile. “Everyone, please… Xander and I are only childhood friends. After all, the real Luna of the Ashveil Pack is still Elara.”

“Is she?” another voice sneered. “Tell us, Xander — how long will you keep playing house with your surrogate Luna? She was never your choice… or have you begun to fall for her?”

Elara’s chest tightened as she felt like a dagger was being twisted in her heart. The silence stretched long, choking her. Every second pressed like a weight against her ribs.

Then Xander’s words came, flat, unshaken. “This was never about love. It was a contract, a transaction, nothing more.”

Her breath hitched. Her stomach churned as though her very soul rejected the truth. Then her crystal communicator pulsed in her palm.

“Luna Ashveil,” the Healer’s voice trembled through the rune-link, “we regret to inform you that due to the delayed treatment, the shadow rot has spread to your womb. You have little time left.”

The banquet faded. Ravenna’s satisfied smile blurred into smoke.

In that instant Elara’s entire world came crashing down.

“All these years,” she whispered, tears tracing her cheeks, “I have been a fool for your love… but from now on, not anymore.”

***

The snowstorm cut at her skin, chilling her to the core, but Elara felt nothing, her body stiff and trembling from shock.

Minutes dragged on like hours as she stayed curled on the ground, water running from her hair, mixing with quiet tears until the sobs broke out, harsh and painful.

Five years ago, her brother had gambled away everything. When the debt-collectors came, her parents were given two choices — silver or flesh. Without hesitation, they offered their only daughter. She was bound to an elder wolf-lord, old enough to be her father.

She still remembered his breath had reeked of blood and decay as he tried to mark her. Her mother’s voice had urged from beyond the door, “Do not resist, or he’ll kill us all.”

That night, Elara shattered the window and leapt into the storm, shards slicing her skin. She ran until the world blurred and then collided with a black-furred Alpha riding through the rain.

“Please,” she had sobbed, clutching his cloak, “don’t let them take me back.”

He studied her with eyes cold as moonstone. “Get her out. We leave now.”

It was at that moment he pulled her inside and leaned close, his breath warm against her ear, his voice laced with command.

“I don’t do charity,” he had said, voice rough. “You remind me of someone. I’ll mold you into her until I forget the difference.”

“If I walk away, they’ll devour you. If I claim you, none will dare touch you. Choose: mine, or prey.”

Her gaze had caught the crest on his signet ring — the same emblem she’d seen on the iron gates where she once sold sweets as a child.

And she remembered the boy who used to sneak her food through the bars, whispering, “One day, you won’t live like this.”

That boy had become Alpha Xander Ashveil — her savior, her doom.

“…I agree,” she’d whispered that night.

He had kissed her wrist where her pulse raced like a frightened fawn, sealing her fate.

For five years she loved him with all she had — only to learn she was nothing but a pups making machine, bought and used until she broke.

When Elara returned to the palace, the triplets’ small boots were lined neatly by the door. She polished them every night without fail. They were her entire world.

“Mother’s home!” they cried, running into her arms.

Elara smiled faintly, hiding her pain. Little Kael toddled forward with a cup of steaming herbal brew.

The first sip burned bitterly. Moments later, her chest tightened. She fell, the cup shattering beside her.

Her sons knelt, tiny hands patting her face as if it were a game.

“Aunt Ravenna said if the sleeping pill doesn’t work, we can use stronger next time,” one murmured.

“Sorry, Mother,” another echoed, repeating words taught to them by Ravenna. “Our family doesn’t need a foolish she-wolf like you. Aunt Ravenna will take care of Father now.”

Elara’s breath trembled. The world spun. Yet even as darkness closed in, her hoarse and defiant voice rose one last time.

“Fine. Keep the title. Keep his name. Call her Luna, mother — take it all.”

The chains that bound her heart shattered. For the first time in years, she felt something new — freedom.

She was done being the perfect Luna. If this crown was forged from lies, she would rather cast it to the wolves.

Elara’s eyes fluttered open to the pale silver of the Healers’ Hall. The air smelled of wolfsbane and crushed herbs, sterile and cold.

A shadow fell across her bedside, and for a heartbeat she thought it was Xander. But when her gaze cleared, it was only the Healer, his eyes filled with quiet pity.

“Luna Ashveil,” he murmured, bowing low. “We tried all our healing runes, but we could not save the pup. You… miscarried last night in your Alpha’s carriage.”

Elara stared blankly.

“Pup?” Her lips trembled. “I… was with child?” Her claws dug into the blanket, trembling.

The healer hesitated. “The sleeping pill you consumed was laced with potent dreambane. It was meant for wolves thrice your size. Combined with the rot in your womb… it was too much for the fetus.”

Before her shock could fade, the door swung open. The scent of lilies—funeral flowers—drifted through the air as Xander entered, his expression carved in marble.

“You’re awake,” he said softly. “Do not worry. I’m here now.”

His thumb brushed against her cheek, and for a fleeting moment, hope flickered in her chest — fragile, desperate.

“Xander… I—I need to tell you that I lost our pup—”

“You are overthinking,” he interrupted, his sigh gentle but sharp enough to silence her. He dismissed the healer with a flick of his hand.

“About last night,” he said evenly, “I have spoken to the children. It was nothing serious. A childish prank gone wrong. They didn’t know those pills would cause internal bleeding. Now that you are fine, there is no reason to make them suffer for a mistake.”

Elara’s body shook violently.

“They suffered? And what about me?!”

Her voice rose, startling even him. But Xander merely tucked a strand of her pale hair behind her ear, pulling her close.

“You’re strong enough to handle it,” he murmured. “Accidents happen. For me… for the pack’s sake, let it go.”

The room spun. The child she had lost wasn’t even mourned, and yet the ones who had caused it were protected like jewels.

Her mind drifted to that night years ago, when his eyes had been soft — when she had believed him kind. The Ashveil Elders had demanded she bear more heirs, but Xander had refused, holding her close and whispering:

“I can’t let you suffer, Elara. The moon’s burden is cruel. We’ll try one time, through spell-binding, not the old way. You won’t endure that pain again.”

Back then, she thought he was saving her. When the healers declared her with pup, Elara had wept with joy. She endured the fevers, the swelling, the agony of carrying three lives within her body. She nearly died giving birth beneath the Blood Moon — her blood soaking the birthing furs. Yet she smiled through it all, for him, for their children.

And now that sacrifice was dust.

A sharp pain twisted her chest. She coughed, blood staining the snow-white sheets.

“Elara!”

Xander’s roar shook the hall. He caught her as she fell, his arms tightening around her trembling frame.

“Healers! Get your best team here!”

His command echoed through the corridors, rattling even the moonstone pillars. For one fleeting heartbeat, Elara thought she mattered — that he truly cared. His thumb brushed the blood from her lips as his aura pulsed with Alpha power, fierce and raw.

Her breaths came shallow and broken. Somewhere in her heart, she wished that the boy who once pressed bread through iron bars still lived inside him.

Then Xander’s communicator crystal flared.

Ravenna.

He hesitated — only for a moment — then answered.

“What? You injured your ankle?” His jaw clenched. “Stay there. I’m coming.”

He looked once more at Elara, still gasping in his arms, then turned to the nearest healer.

“Take good care of my Luna. Don’t let anything happen to her.”

And with that, he laid her gently on the bed and strode out — his steps urgent, but not for her. For Ravenna.

Hours bled into each other. Her pulse steadied, her breathing softened. The room was silent save for the hum of runes and the steady drip of moonlight through the window.

Then her crystal tablet chimed.

Projected in shimmering light were images of Ravenna, perched upon another man’s lap, a goblet of silverwine in her hand and victory gleaming in her eyes. The caption beneath burned through Elara’s heart:

“Once, he abandoned a million-moonmark deal because I was scratched. After five years, nothing has changed. The place in his heart will always be mine.”

Below the post flowed comments from Xander’s childhood allies — wolves Elara had once treated as brothers, cooked for, nursed through wounds.

“The perfect couple. How could an orphaned she-wolf ever compare?”

“We await your wedding beneath the Blood Moon.”

“The manor by the river — of course he gifted it to his beloved.”

Elara felt nothing. Just the ache of emptiness.

In the blurred background of those images, she recognized the Silvervale Manor — the one he had promised her years ago. She remembered his whisper against her hair that night:

“A home for my Luna.”

Yet she had never been allowed to cross its threshold. Each time she asked, he smiled faintly.

“Not yet. The time isn’t right.”

Now she knew why.

This time, she did not cry. She merely pressed her trembling fingers to the glowing screen and liked the post — even added a comment.

[Congratulations.]

The hall went silent across the moonlink. Every voice stilled.

All this time, she had suffered for nothing but illusions.

Without hesitation, Elara summoned her communicator — its surface glowing with the sigil of the most feared wolf in the kingdom, the rogue Alpha who ruled the black markets of the Shadowlands.

Her voice was hoarse but steady.

“I was blind before,” she whispered. “Help me file for separation. As for custody — there’s no need. The pups were never mine.”

She paused, her gaze cold as moonlight.

“In return… this body you once desired, I’ll give it to you.”

On the day of her discharge, Elara expected to return home quietly. But instead of heading toward their villa, the stablehand stopped outside a brightly lit Lunar Fairground.

“Luna, Alpha Ashveil is waiting for you.” Elara froze. The bright colors, the laughter of strangers, all of it felt jarring to her still-weak body. She shook her head. “No. Just take me home.”

Before the steward could answer, Xander’s tall figure appeared by the carriage. He opened the door himself, his hand gripping her wrist with quiet force.

“Don’t make a scene. Come with me.” he said, his tone brooking no refusal.

“My scribe mentioned that you booked this entire fair for the pups’ birthday revels. Since Ravenna happens to share the same date, I thought it better to celebrate together. It’s livelier that way.”

Elara’s skin burned with fury the moment she heard those words.

Five years ago she had begged Xander to let the pups stay nine moons in her womb but he had cut her off.

“Seven moons is enough. Deliver them now.”

For the sake of the pups, she had bitten her tongue, believing there must be some medicinal reason and nearly died, her body torn. It was only now she realised that it wasn’t an accident.

It was all so that the triplets shared their birth-night with Ravenna.

Absolutely shameless!

Xander took her inside and gestured toward a side corridor. “Wait for me in the private booth. I will bring the pups after they finish their ride.”

At first Elara had a strong urge to walk away but she stopped herself. She needed irrefutable proof that could give her solid grounds to secure her separation swiftly.

Reluctantly, she stepped forward.

But just as her hand touched the carved door, muffled sounds reached her ears — low gasps, the rustle of fabric.

She froze.

For a moment, she thought she had taken the wrong turn. But through the crack, she saw Ravenna with two strange men, their shirts torn open amidst rough breathing filling the air.

Ravenna leaned lazily against them, her lips red, her throat marked with fresh bites as if she hadn’t even bothered to hide them.

Elara’s chest tightened.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

She turned on her heel to leave but a hand shot out from inside, dragging her violently in.

The next second, the door burst open. Xander strode in with the children. They saw Ravenna collapsed to the floor, shaking at Elara’s feet. Her garments were all torn, exposing more than she intended.

“Luna Ashveil, I was wrong! I will never dare touch what belongs to you.”

Elara’s heart stopped. She wanted to speak, to explain, to shove the world’s cruelty away but Xander’s icy gaze pinned her like a bird in a snare.

“Luna. Ashveil please take me to the Healers, the pills you forced into my mouth to make me surely bear…after all the men are done abusing me… I… I can’t let them…! I will rather die!”

Elara opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come. Her throat felt as if it had been sealed shut as tears streamed down Ravenna’s face; her voice was barely a whisper as she rushed to Xander and collapsed in his arms trembling.

“Xander, I only came back because my ex-mate abused me… please don’t let these men take advantage of me.”

In between the sobs Elara saw the small smile forming on Ravenna’s lips and her entire reasoning snapped.

“I took advantage of you??” Elara asked, her voice low.

“You even ordered them to film it and post it upon the moonlink… I was wrong to post pictures with Xander.”

Xander’s jaw tightened. His gaze shifted from the tiny crystal camera whirring in the corner to Elara, disbelief hardening into icy fury.

“Shut up!” Elara raged. “It was Xander who told me that you would accompany us when we reached here! How could I know it beforehand unless I am some seer!”

Unexpectedly before she could speak anymore, the triplets pointed at Elara, their childish voices unusually firm.

“Mother, you’re so mean!”

“Yes! Mother, aren’t you the one who said that there would be a great show today! How could we have known she would hurt Aunt Ravenna? It was… it was your all doings, Mother!”

The men in the room froze and then, almost simultaneously, they bowed deeply.

“Alpha Ashveil, it was her indeed! If we had known Ravenna was your woman, we wouldn’t dare touch her even if we had a hundred guts!”

One of them fumbled, then produced a small recording crystal. A chilling voice played through the speaker in Elara’s unmistakable tone, calm and commanding, “Make sure she suffers. Don’t let her walk away. Record everything.”

Elara’s eyes widened as she looked at the trap which was so intricately planned to ruin her before a small miserable smile covered her features.

“All this effort to ruin me… just for a title? What a serpent you are—”

Smack!

The slap landed with a shattering crack, the sound ripping through the booth like thunder.

Elara hit the floor hard, the taste of iron spreading in her mouth.

Ravenna, who had been crying, suddenly fell quiet and gave a cruel smile as Xander stood over Elara, staring at her fiercely.

When Elara turned toward him, blood trickled from her lip and her eyes were empty, as if she had been emptied by terror. Xander froze, his hand still raised, a strange guilt clouding him.

“So in the end you believe her? If anyone saw, they’d think she’s your true Luna and I’m the mistress!”

Xander’s look turned cold and steady. “Is this how low you’ll go?”

His voice was calm, but each word cut like a blade.

He made a sharp gesture. The two men in the booth were hauled away, their protests lost under his order.

Xander moved closer until Elara couldn’t step back. “Did you strip Ravenna… did you enjoy putting her down?” he asked softly, hard.

“Now it’s your turn.”

Elara’s chest tightened. She shook her head, voice breaking, “No, please stop!”

Suddenly Xander grabbed her roughly. The sound of tearing fabric filled the booth.

Elara convulsed, her heart racing as the same hands that once touched her gently now forced her, rough and angry, leaving red marks on her skin.

Hot tears ran down her face as she gasped and sobbed.

“Xander… what are you doing? Please, don’t—” Her cries were ignored; she felt herself being torn apart inside.

His eyes did not soften. “You wanted to ruin her honor… now you will live that shame. Every moment. Every shred.”

A crystal camera in the corner whirred on, recording everything—her fear, her shame, her collapse.

“You wanted a show, right? Today I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”