I forced my expression to crumble, to look weak and helpless.

"I was thinking about Liam." My voice trembled, just enough. "He's still in that dungeon, and I can't do anything."

Byron's suspicion eased. He walked toward me, that familiar, "loving" look on his handsome face.

"Pup, I know this is hard." He reached out to touch my cheek. "But you have to trust me. I'm working on it."

Working on it?

Working on a way for my brother to die in that cell?

I didn't pull away from his touch, even though his fingers on my skin made my stomach churn.

"Byron, tell me the truth." I looked up at him, my eyes full of faked desperation. "Was it really an accident? Did Ariana really just lose control?"

His eyes flickered. It was tiny, but I saw it.

"Of course it was an accident." His hand slid to the back of my neck, his voice softening. "Sandra, you can't let your grief cloud your judgment. Ariana is your best friend. Why would she ever deliberately—"

"Then why are the elders protecting her?" I cut him off. "Why won't they investigate?"

Byron sighed, his face a mask of pained responsibility.

"Because her family's backing is too strong. Her grandfather is the Northern Alpha King." He pulled me into his arms. "If I make a move against her now, the entire Northern Alliance will turn on us. The Blackwood Pack will be isolated. We could face a war."

Such a perfect lie.

Such a convincing performance.

If I didn't know the truth, I might have actually fallen for it.

"So you want me to forgive her?" My voice shook, hiding my rage. "Forgive the woman who killed our child?"

"Pup—"

"She killed your heir!" I shoved him away, my voice rising. "That was our pup, Byron! Your heir! Your own flesh and blood!"

His face went white. His golden eyes shattered with pain.

"You think I don't feel this?" His voice was raw. He seized my hand, fingers digging into my skin until I winced.

"That was my blood! My heir! Every part of me wants to tear her to shreds! But my duty... I'm the Alpha. I can't."

The raw emotion cracked his composure, but he forced it back, locking it away. The mask of the grieving Alpha fell back into place.

"The pack comes first. Always," he stated. "And sometimes... that means we sacrifice."

Sacrifices.

He said it so easily.

"Sacrifice what?" I stared at him. "Our child? My brother's freedom? My dignity as your Luna?"

"For the future of the pack," he said, his voice laced with an Alpha's command. "Sandra, you are my mate. I need you on my side."

On his side.

Like I had been for the last three years.

Trusting him, supporting him, giving him everything.

And for what?

"And if I refuse?" I asked. "If I insist on getting justice for our child?"

Byron’s expression grew heavy. He let go of my hands and walked to the window.

"Then your mother's situation could become... difficult," he said, his back still to me. "Moonpetal shipments have been unreliable lately. It would be a shame if they stopped completely."

My blood ran cold.

He actually said it.

He was threatening me with my mother's life.

"You're threatening me," I growled, my voice low.

"I'm protecting you," he said, turning back to me, that same false sympathy on his face. "Protecting all of us. At the Blood Moon ceremony, just forgive Ariana publicly, and everything will go back to normal. We can start over. We can even have another pup."

Another pup.

So he'd have another hostage to control me with?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

When I opened them again, my face was a mask of defeat.

"Fine," I said. "I'll forgive her at the ceremony."

The tension finally drained from Byron’s shoulders. He closed his eyes, weary, a breath escaping him in a rush of pure relief.

"Good... okay... Sandra. Thank you for understanding."

He strode toward me, his arms reaching out to pull me into an embrace.

"I know this is hell for you," he said, his voice low and strained. "Trust me, when this is over, I'll make it right. I'll make up for—"

"But I have a condition." I stepped back, avoiding his embrace.

He frowned.

"What condition?"

I slowly ran a hand over my flat stomach, where our child once grew.

The little life that never got to see the world.

"I need seven days," I said, my voice like steel. "I'm going to hold a mourning ceremony for our child. A proper one."

Byron knocked on my door early the next morning.

"Ready?" he asked, his face a mask of tired tenderness. "I think you need to see Liam for yourself. So you can understand the position I'm in."

I nodded and followed him to the dungeons.

The Blackwood dungeons were built in the deepest part of the territory, the thick stone walls covered in ancient runes that suppressed a wolf's power.

The air was thick with the reek of silver and despair.

"He's in the deepest cell," Byron said. "For the charge of treason."

Treason.

What a joke.

We walked past rows of iron bars, past the rogues and criminals locked inside.

Their eyes followed us with fear and hatred.

Finally, we stopped at the last cell.

And I saw him.

Liam.

My brother.

He was shackled to the wall with silver-etched chains, his hands pulled high above his head.

The silver had burned deep wounds into his skin, crusted with dark, dried blood.

A werewolf's healing ability was useless against it.

"Liam?" I gripped the iron bars, my voice trembling.

He slowly lifted his head.

His eyes, once bright as stars, were now dull and lifeless, the light of his wolf gone.

"Sandra?" His voice was a barely audible rasp. "You came."

I wanted to reach for him, but the bars were in the way.

"Look at your brother now," a guard sneered from behind us. "Once a Beta, now he's less than an omega."

Before I could even turn to snap at the guard, Byron moved.

A wave of pure Alpha rage slammed into the room.

In a blur of motion, he spun, his hand clamping around the guard’s throat. He slammed him against the stone wall with a sickening thud.

"You," Byron’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, like something straight from hell. "Whose name are you dragging through the dirt with that filthy mouth?"

The guard went white, clawing desperately at Byron's hand.

"She is your Luna," Byron snarled, golden fire blazing in his eyes. The sheer weight of his Alpha aura sucked the air right out of the dungeon. "If I ever hear you disrespect her again, I will rip your tongue out myself."

He released his grip. The guard collapsed to the floor, gasping and coughing violently.

Byron straightened his collar, as if the brutal outburst had never happened.

He turned and pulled me back into his arms.

"I'm so sorry, baby. You shouldn't have to hear that filth."

He pressed my head against his chest. His voice was thick with suppressed pain. "I know you're hurting. I am too. But look... the evidence is overwhelming. The Elders have spoken. Even as Alpha, I can't just break pack law."

I stared at him, unblinking.

This "law" he spoke of... wasn't it just another cage he'd built?

This "evidence"... hadn't he forged it with his own hands?

"Sandra." Liam’s voice was weak. "Don't fight him for me. It's not worth it."

"Liam—"

"I know." He looked at me, a flicker of clarity in his dull eyes. "It's too late for words now."

"See?" Byron murmured from behind me. "Even he admits it. Sandra, we have to be rational. If you keep fighting this... more people will get hurt."

More people.

He meant my mother.

"So you're just going to let him die here?" I spun around to face Byron. "You're going to watch my only brother rot away from silver poisoning?"

Byron opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly, his eyes glazed over.

It was the look of a mind-link.

His brow furrowed instantly.

Seconds later, he snapped back to reality, his face etched with undeniable exhaustion.

"I'm sorry. My Beta just linked me. There's an emergency in the pack," he said, already turning away. "I have to handle it. Now."

An emergency.

What kind of emergency was more important than this?

"Byron." I called out.

He stopped and looked back. His eyes still held a flicker of annoyance that didn't belong to me.

"What is it?"

I looked at him. The man I once believed was my fated mate.

"Nothing," I said flatly. "Go."

He gave me a long, complicated look, as if he wanted to say more. But in the end, he just turned and strode out of the dungeon.

I stood frozen, listening to his footsteps fade away.

He seemed to have forgotten something crucial.

I could feel the other end of his mind-link.

I knew exactly where he was going. He was going to see Ariana.

By the time I got back to our rooms, rage and humiliation were burning through my veins.

No more waiting.

No more watching him play his twisted games.

I was going to confront him. Rip away that perfect mask once and for all.

An hour later, Byron returned.

He walked through the door carrying a thick, chaotic scent.

It was a mess of Ariana’s sharp floral perfume, his own cedarwood scent, and a faint, unsettling undertone of blood and herbs.

His face was etched with exhaustion, his shirt cuffs wrinkled and messy.

He saw me and froze for a second, then tried to force a smile. "Sandra? You're still up?"

I stood in the center of the living room, arms crossed, cold as a block of ice. "Where were you?"

"Handling a... difficult situation."

He walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey, his hand not quite steady.

"A difficult situation?" I sneered, stalking toward him. "Or was it just another one of Ariana's 'emergencies' that only you could handle?"

His hand froze mid-air. His back was to me, but I saw his shoulders go rigid.

"Sandra, don't."

"Don't what?" I circled around to face him, staring into his tired, golden eyes. "I saw you take her mind-link in the dungeon. I saw the frustration on your face. And now you come back reeking of her chaos. Byron, what the hell are our pup and I to you?"

"It's not—" he started, his voice a raw rasp, but he cut himself off.

As if the words were stuck in his throat, choking him.

"It's not what?" I pressed, closing in. Desperation and rage made me reckless.

"You smell like her! It's the kind of scent that only clings when emotions run high, when you're holding someone close! Tell me, are you tired of me? Was I just a tool to secure your position from the very beginning?"

"Enough!" He slammed the glass down, whiskey sloshing over the rim. His eyes were filled with pain. "It's not what you think!"

"Then what is it?" I screamed. "Explain it! Tell me why you sacrificed my brother and our unborn pup for her! Why does the entire pack have to bend to her every whim? What kind of hold does she have on you?"

"I can't tell you!" he roared, like a caged animal. "You're better off not knowing!"

"That same damn excuse!" I completely lost it. "'It's for your own good!' 'It's for the pack!' You always have a noble reason, don't you? Byron, I am done with your secrets and your lies!"

That was the moment I snapped.

My inner wolf surged, a tidal wave of fury and grief. Power exploded from me, uncontrolled.

The glasses in the room began to hum and vibrate. The lights flickered wildly.

Byron’s expression shifted from pain to pure alarm.

"Sandra, calm down!" He grabbed my shoulders. "Get control of your power! It's going to tear you apart!"

I could feel my sanity slipping, swallowed by the raging wolf inside me.

I wanted to destroy everything. Destroy him. Destroy this world of lies.

"Let go of me!" I struggled, my nails digging bloody lines into his arms.

"I can't!"

He stared at my eyes, which were beginning to glow red with uncontrolled power. A look of utter desperation and heartbreak crossed his face. "Your mind is about to shatter! Sandra, please, stop!"

But I couldn't hear him over the roaring in my ears, the sound of my own heart breaking.

"I'm sorry..." His trembling voice was a whisper from far away. "I'm so sorry. I can't let you destroy yourself..."

Then I felt it.

A gentle but unstoppable force, flowing into me through our mate bond.

No. He wouldn't—

"What are you doing?" I stared at him in horror. Tears were streaming down his face.

"I'm saving you," he choked out, his voice thick with an agony I couldn't understand. "Through our sacred bond, I, Alpha Byron... temporarily... seal your wolf."

"No!" I shrieked. "You can't! That's blasphemy!"

But it was too late.

The power began to drain out of me, like water from a cracked dam.

It felt like a hole was being ripped open in my very soul, everything precious pouring out.

My wolf, my soulmate since birth, let out a final, desperate howl.

And then, silence.

I collapsed to the floor, gasping.

My senses were dulling, fading away. My sharp hearing, my keen sense of smell, my night vision—all gone.

The worst part... my wolf was gone.

Completely vanished.

He knelt beside me, his own breathing ragged. His voice was a strained, painful whisper. "Sandra... are you... calm now?"

I tried to speak, but my voice was gone.

I tried to stand, but my legs were useless.

He took a deep breath, his face hardening into a mask of cold resolve. "This ends now, Sandra. Until you learn to control yourself, I'm holding onto your power. It's for your own protection. And for the protection of everyone else."

I looked up into his eyes, those golden eyes I used to adore.

All I could see now was cold, hard control.

My wolf, the other half of my soul, was silent for the first time in my life.

And in that terrible silence, all that was left was a cold, burning hatred.