They say the written word never lies. So how could all this love, overflowing from every page, be nothing but a lie?

I tore through the pages one by one, ripping without mercy.

My gaze caught on an ornate wooden box. Something compelled me to open it.

A delicate portrait of a woman, all soft curves and coy beauty, had been tucked carefully into a hidden compartment. Along the edge, in small, unassuming script, were the words:

"I wish to be the sparrow nesting in the eaves, so that morning and evening, we may always be together."

"The fifth of October. The year we were mated."

I sank to the floor, my vision blurring before I could stop it.

That was one moon cycle after our Mating Ceremony. His heart had already strayed by then.

I was a fool. A complete and utter fool.

The dishes on the table had been reheated again and again. I waved my hand, signaling Aria to clear them away.

"I'm tired. Help me to bed."

Aria stared at me in disbelief. "My Lady, aren't you going to wait for the Alpha? He promised he'd make it back in time to take you to the northern ridge. The moonblossoms along the old trail."

I shook my head and began undressing without another word.

Alaric wasn't coming back.

The next morning, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Alaric kneeling at the side of the bed, his face heavy with guilt. The scent of cedar and cold iron clung to him, sharper than usual, layered with something restless underneath.

"Selene, I'm sorry. I lost track of time yesterday. I broke my promise..."

I stared at him for a long time, unblinking.

Who would have believed it? The Alpha who cut through Moon Council politics without flinching, who ordered wolves' fates decided with a nod, on his knees before me over a broken date.

A mate like that. Anyone would find it impossible to stay angry.

When I said nothing, he grabbed my hand and pressed it against his own body, urging me to hit him.

"If you're upset, take it out on me. Hit me until you feel better, all right?"

I shook my head, my voice flat. "I'm not upset. I just think it's a shame. The moonblossoms in full bloom. I never got to see them."

Relief flooded his face. He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a deep, lingering kiss against my fingers.

"Silly girl. There'll be plenty of chances. I promise I'll take you. I swear it."

Then he hurried off to the pack hall. There was business with the enforcers that couldn't wait, there was always business that couldn't wait. The heavy den doors closed behind him and two patrol wolves fell into step at his back, their footsteps fading down the stone path.

I watched his retreating figure, straight-backed and sure, and sat there motionless for a long time.

Alaric. There is no "plenty of chances" for us. Not anymore.

After Alaric left, I sent someone to bring Vesper from the hidden nesting den.

She arrived with one hand braced against the small of her back, walking at a leisurely pace. The enforcer who'd driven her stood by the vehicle until I nodded for him to go. When she reached me, she met my gaze without a flicker of fear. A faint trace of jasmine and copper drifted from her, threaded with something too sweet, almost cloying. My wolf stirred uneasily at the edge of my awareness, hackles lifting at a scent it could not place.

"Selene Moonthorn. So you did recognize me yesterday."

I looked her over, head to toe.

A willowy frame, a face no bigger than the palm of a hand. A classic beauty from the southern border packs.

I'd made inquiries in private. Three days after our Mating Ceremony, Alaric had been dispatched south to manage storm-ravaged packlands, the Blackmoor bloodline coordinating relief runs through the devastated territories, half aid, half resource consolidation. That was where his entanglement with Vesper began.

He'd been caught in the floodwaters pulling survivors from a collapsed structure. Delirious with fever, he mistook her for me. One reckless night, and he took her innocence.

Afterward, pitying her as an orphan with no pack in the world, he brought her back to Blackmoor territory. Installed her in the hidden nesting den. Spent every day at her side.

When I followed him there that day, I saw how exquisitely the place had been furnished. Every detail chosen with care. Alaric must have loved her deeply.

A bitter ache spread through my chest.

Vesper noticed the look on my face. Satisfaction crept across hers.

"Selene Moonthorn. Everyone says Alaric adores you. But the way I see it, you're the most pitiful woman alive."

"Your own mate slips wolfsbane into your fertility tonic every single day, yet he and I are the ones expecting a pup. Tell me, how does that make any sense?"

"You don't even know, do you? He comes to the nesting den every day. Every day. Have you ever seen the way he looks when he loses control in bed?"

"He's always telling me that she-wolves in the territory are so dull. That I'm the only one who stirs something real in him. Every time, he pushes me so far I have to beg him to stop before he'll let me go..."

As she spoke, she loosened her clothes right in front of me, baring her body without shame.

Skin pale as silk, covered in bruises. Dark ones and faint ones, layered over each other. My throat tightened, and I looked away.

"Look, these are all the marks he left on me. He's always like this. Once he gets excited, he loses all control and leaves me so sore I can't get out of bed the next morning..."

"Alaric told me that as long as you couldn't bear him a pup, sooner or later the guilt would eat at you until you offered to let him take a second mate on your own. All I had to do was wait..."

She said so much in one breath, more than I could absorb. By the end, I realized there was nothing left inside me to feel. Somewhere deep beneath my ribs, where my wolf had always curled warm and watchful, there was only silence. Not grief. Not rage. Just silence, as though she had lain down and refused to rise.

Alpha Alaric Blackmoor. What a brilliant strategist.

I slumped against the back of the chair. My thumb pressed hard against the inside of my ring finger, against the band that suddenly felt like a brand. The claiming mark at the junction of my neck and shoulder had gone cold. Not the sharp cold of silver, but the dead cold of something that no longer recognized its other half. A long time passed before I could force out a single sentence.

"If that's how it is, the position of his Luna is yours."

I didn't want to be Luna of the Blackmoor Pack anymore.

I didn't want Alaric Blackmoor anymore either.

After Vesper left, Alaric sent a messenger back with word that Moon Council business had called him beyond the territory borders. He wouldn't return for two weeks at least.

Perhaps that was fate.

I packed my belongings calmly, climbed into the car already waiting beyond the manor's back gate, and drove south through the night until the territory lights disappeared behind me. No scent trail. I had crushed moonflower root and wild sage into my skin until my own wolf could barely recognize me. Whatever he sent to track me would find nothing.

Alaric Blackmoor, perhaps you've forgotten what I once said to you.

"With the Moon Goddess as my witness, if the day ever comes that your heart changes, I will make sure you can never find me, not in this life, not in the next, not even in the depths of the spirit realm."

Alaric didn't return to the territory until a full two weeks later. He didn't even stop to change out of his overcoat before rushing through the manor, past the enforcers who straightened at his approach, through the hall where the den keepers went silent, and into the bedroom.

The Moon Goddess only knew how desperately he'd missed that little she-wolf he could never love enough, his darling moon, the one he wanted to pull into his very bones. Her scent. He needed her scent. Moonflower and warm rain and lavender, the particular softness that had lived in every room she'd ever entered. He could already feel his wolf surging forward beneath his skin, restless and aching.

But when he pushed open the door, the scent that hit him was wrong. Jasmine and copper and something sweet tipping toward rot. A different woman looked up, one hand cradling her belly with a coy smile. Alaric's heart plummeted.

"What are you doing in Selene's room?"