I didn't sleep.

After the Banquet ended, I walked back to the Luna quarters through the empty pack house hallways. My quarters. Not Cruz's. He'd moved into the Alpha suite three years ago and never looked back.

I sat on the edge of my bed until dawn, watching the window lighten from black to grey. Cinder paced in my head, restless and snarling. She wanted blood. I wanted clarity.

By the time the sun came up, I had both.

I showered, dressed in plain jeans and a sweater, and walked to the Alpha suite. The guards at the door stepped aside without a word. They always did. I was still Luna, even if no one acted like it.

I pushed the door open.

Cruz stood by the window, shirtless, his back to me. Amber sat on the edge of his bed, wearing one of his shirts and nothing else. Her legs were bare, crossed at the ankle, and her blonde hair fell over one shoulder in a way that looked calculated.

Cruz's head was bent toward her neck. His nose brushed the curve where her shoulder met her throat. His canines were out, white and sharp, grazing the skin just above her collarbone.

Amber's eyes flicked to me. She smiled.

Cruz pulled back slowly. Not with guilt. Not with surprise. Just annoyance.

"Close the door on your way out," he said. He didn't turn around.

I stood there for three seconds. Long enough to memorize the scene. Long enough for Cinder to stop pacing and go completely, utterly still.

Then I left.

I walked down the main staircase to the great hall. Morning light poured through the tall windows. The ranked wolves were gathering for the weekly pack run, milling around in clusters, pulling on gloves and lacing boots. Beta Garrett stood near the fireplace, talking to Gamma Holt. A handful of Deltas leaned against the long table, laughing about something.

Rafe was there. The one from last night. His wrist was wrapped in a brace.

I walked toward the center of the hall. Conversations didn't stop. No one looked up. I was used to that.

Rafe stepped into my path.

"Morning, Luna," he said, drawing out the word like he had last night. "Heading somewhere? Or should I escort you back to your kennel?"

The Deltas behind him snickered.

I didn't answer. I pulled my phone from my pocket, scrolled to a contact I'd saved years ago and never called, and tapped the number.

Rafe frowned. "What are you—"

I hit speakerphone.

The room went quiet. Not all at once. It spread like a wave, starting with the wolves closest to me and rippling outward until even Garrett stopped mid-sentence and turned.

The line rang once. Twice.

Then a voice answered. Deep. Smooth. Ancient.

"Brianna."

I didn't know how Lycan King Marcellus Woods knew my name. I'd never spoken to him before. But the way he said it—calm, certain, like he'd been waiting—made my spine straighten.

"Your Majesty," I said. My voice was steady. "I'm requesting Lycan authority to enforce a mate-bond rejection."

Silence on the other end. Not empty. Weighted.

Rafe's face went white. Behind him, one of the Deltas took a step back. Garrett's hand froze halfway to his jacket pocket.

Marcellus spoke again. Two words.

"I'm coming."

The line went dead.

The hall stayed silent. I could feel it now, even through the severed connection—Lycan aura, distant but crushing, like a storm rolling in from miles away. It pressed against my chest, made my wolf bare her teeth in instinctive submission. Around me, every wolf in the hall felt it too. Shoulders hunched. Eyes dropped. No one moved.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and looked at Rafe. He was staring at the floor, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

I walked past him. He didn't stop me.

Footsteps thundered on the stairs. Cruz stormed into the hall, half-dressed, his shirt unbuttoned and his hair still a mess. Garrett must have mind-linked him. Cruz's eyes swept the room, landing on the frozen wolves, then on me.

"What the hell did you do?" His voice cracked with Alpha tone, but it didn't land the way it should have. The pressure from the phone call was still there, invisible and suffocating, drowning out his authority.

I met his eyes. I didn't flinch. I didn't explain.

I just stood there, alone in the center of the hall, surrounded by his wolves who wouldn't look at me and his Beta who wouldn't speak.

Cruz took a step forward. Then stopped.

Because for the first time in five years, I wasn't the one who looked small.

The pack house felt different after the call.

Not quieter. Not emptier. Just different. Like the air had changed weight. Wolves who used to brush past me in the hallways now pressed themselves against the walls when I walked by. The Deltas who'd cornered me at the Banquet avoided the great hall entirely when I was there. Even Garrett, Cruz's ever-loyal Beta, kept his distance, watching me from across rooms with something that looked like fear.

Cruz, on the other hand, wouldn't leave me alone.

He found me in the Luna quarters two days after I made the call. I was folding laundry — my own laundry, because no one in this pack house did anything for me anymore — when the door slammed open. No knock. No warning.

"You're going to cancel it," Cruz said. His voice carried that Alpha edge, the one that used to make my knees buckle. "Call him back. Tell him you made a mistake."

I set down the shirt I was holding and looked at him. He was still handsome. Sharp jaw, broad shoulders, eyes the color of winter storms. Five years ago, I'd thought he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Now I just saw the crack in his collarbone where the rogue's claw had missed his throat by an inch. The scar I'd earned saving his life.

"No," I said.

His eyes narrowed. "That wasn't a request."

"I know."

He stepped closer. The Alpha aura rolled off him in waves, thick and oppressive, trying to force my wolf into submission. Cinder snarled but stayed low. She wasn't bowing. Not anymore.

"You have nowhere to go without this pack," Cruz said. His voice dropped, quieter now, almost reasonable. "No family. No allies. You think Marcellus is going to protect you? He's Lycan royalty. You're nothing to him."

I picked up another shirt. Started folding.

"If you go through with this," Cruz continued, "I'll demote you. Omega status. You'll scrub floors and serve meals until you beg me to take you back."

I set the folded shirt on the pile and met his eyes. "Okay."

He blinked. Like he'd expected me to break. To cry. To argue.

I just stood there, waiting for him to leave.

He did. Eventually. The door didn't slam this time. It closed soft and final, like a coffin lid.

Cinder whispered in my head. *Good.*

---

The nausea started three days later.

At first, I thought it was stress. I'd barely eaten since the Banquet. Hadn't slept more than a few hours a night. My body was running on spite and determination, and neither of those were particularly nourishing.

But when I bent over the kitchen sink one morning, dizzy and sweating, my wolf went completely still.

*No,* Cinder breathed.

I gripped the counter. Waited for the room to stop spinning.

*Check,* she said. *Now.*

I didn't want to. I didn't want to know. But my feet carried me through the pack house anyway, down the narrow hallway to the healer's clinic. The door was unlocked. It always was.

Evelyn Hayes looked up from her desk when I walked in. She was old, older than any wolf I'd ever met, with silver hair pulled back in a braid and hands that never shook. She'd been the Shadowridge healer for forty years. She'd delivered half the pack, including Cruz.

"Luna," she said, standing. Her voice was warm. She was one of the few wolves who still used my title like it meant something. "What brings you in?"

I sat down in the chair across from her desk. My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against my thighs.

"I need a test," I said.

She didn't ask what kind. She just nodded, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a small vial and a silver needle.

The test took three minutes. I watched the clock on the wall, counting every second, while Evelyn worked in silence. When she finally looked up, her face was soft.

"You're carrying, dear," she said quietly. "About four weeks along."

The world tilted.

Cinder surged forward in my mind, alert and awake for the first time in months. *Pup. Our pup.*

I pressed my hand against my stomach. Flat. Empty. Except it wasn't.

"An Alpha heir," Evelyn added. She was smiling now, cautious but genuine. "Strong aura already. You'll feel it soon."

I nodded. I couldn't speak. My throat had closed up, tight and burning.

For one fragile, stupid moment, I let myself imagine it. A pup. Mine. Something worth protecting. Something that might finally matter to Cruz, might finally make him see me as more than the broken Luna he was ashamed of.

Cinder growled. *Don't.*

But I couldn't help it. Hope was a weed. It grew even in scorched earth.

---

I found the swapped supplements two days later.

I'd gone to the healer's office to pick up prenatal vitamins. Evelyn handed me a bottle with careful instructions, telling me to take them every morning with food. I carried them back to my quarters and set them on the bathroom counter next to the other bottles Cruz had given me months ago.

Something didn't match.

I picked up the old bottle. Read the label. Then read it again.

Contraceptive blend. Healer-approved.

My hands went cold.

I opened the pack healer's records on my phone — I still had access, technically, as Luna — and searched for my name. The order was there. Submitted five weeks ago. Authorized by Alpha Cruz Griffin. Notes in the margin: *Patient may attempt fraudulent pregnancy claim. Preventative measure approved.*

I set the phone down. My pulse was steady. My breathing was even.

Cinder didn't snarl. She didn't rage.

She just went quiet. The kind of quiet that came before wolves ripped out throats.

I took the real prenatal vitamins and walked to the Omega quarters. No one stopped me. No one ever watched the Omegas. I found an empty room, unlocked a drawer with a hairpin, and hid the bottle inside.

Then I went back to my quarters, climbed into bed, and stared at the ceiling until dawn.

I didn't cry. I didn't scream.

I just lay there, one hand pressed against my stomach, protecting the only thing Cruz had ever given me that mattered.

And I understood, with perfect, crystalline clarity, exactly what kind of wolf my mate was.

The pack gossip network moved faster than any mind-link.

I knew that. I'd watched it work for five years, spreading rumors about my hearing loss, my bloodline, my worth. So when I caught three she-wolves whispering outside the dining hall two days after my clinic visit, I wasn't surprised. Just careful.

Amber's name floated through their conversation. Then mine. Then the word "pup."

I kept walking. Cinder stirred in my head, uneasy. *They know.*

*Let them,* I thought back. *It changes nothing.*

But it did. I could feel it in the way wolves looked at me now. Not with the usual contempt. With calculation. An Alpha heir meant power. It meant my Luna claim couldn't be dismissed anymore, couldn't be buried under Cruz's shame and Amber's ambition.

It made me dangerous.

I started taking different routes through the pack house. Avoided the main corridors during shift changes when bodies packed the hallways. Stayed out of rooms with only one exit. Old habits from my days as a border scout, back when I'd been valued for something other than the mark on my neck.

But I got careless.

The east wing stairwell was supposed to be empty at this hour. Most wolves were on the training grounds or in the kitchens prepping for the evening meal. I'd used this route a dozen times in the past week, slipping from the healer's wing down to the Omega quarters to check on my hidden vitamins.

I pushed open the stairwell door and started down.

The scent hit me halfway to the first landing. Jasmine. Cloying and artificial and too sweet.

I stopped. Tilted my head right, listening.

Footsteps above me. Light. Deliberate.

I turned.

Amber stood on the landing, one hand resting on the railing. She wasn't smiling. Wasn't scowling. Her face was blank, almost serene, like she'd just finished a pleasant conversation and was heading somewhere nice.

"Luna," she said. Her voice was soft. Friendly, even.

I didn't answer. My pulse kicked up. Cinder growled low in my chest. *Run.*

But I didn't run. I just stood there, one step below the landing, watching Amber descend toward me with that same empty expression.

She stopped two steps above. Close enough to touch.

"Congratulations," she said. "I heard the news."

I shifted my weight, angling toward the railing so I had space to move. "Thanks."

"It's a shame, really." She tilted her head, studying me like I was a puzzle she'd just solved. "All that effort. And for what?"

I opened my mouth to answer.

She moved.

Both hands shot forward, palms flat against my shoulders, and shoved.

I didn't have time to brace. Didn't have time to grab the railing or shift my weight or do anything except twist, instinct screaming to protect my stomach as the world inverted and concrete steps slammed into my spine.

Once. Twice. Three times.

My head cracked against the edge of a step. My ribs took the next impact. Then my hip. My wrist snapped back at an angle that sent fire shooting up my arm.

I hit the bottom landing and stopped moving.

The pain came in waves. Sharp and blinding and everywhere at once. I tried to breathe. Couldn't. My lungs wouldn't expand. My mouth tasted like copper.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Amber descended the stairs, her heels clicking softly against the concrete. She reached the bottom landing and stepped over me, one foot on either side of my ribs. I tried to look up. Couldn't lift my head.

She paused. I felt her shadow fall across my face.

Then she kept walking. The stairwell door opened. Closed.

Silence.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, watching the fluorescent lights blur and swim. My right hand was pressed against my stomach. Warm. Wet.

Cinder howled.

It wasn't a sound. It was a feeling, a soul-deep scream that tore through my chest and left nothing behind. She howled and howled and then, mid-cry, she just stopped.

Gone.

Not sleeping. Not hiding.

Gone.

I closed my eyes. The pain was fading now, replaced by a cold, spreading numbness that started in my stomach and crawled outward. My fingers were slick. The floor beneath me was slick.

I thought about the pup. Four weeks along. Strong aura, Evelyn had said.

Not anymore.

Footsteps again. Running this time. A voice, distant and frantic.

"Luna! Oh goddess, Luna, stay with me—"

Evelyn's face swam into view, her silver braid falling over one shoulder as she knelt beside me. Her hands moved quickly, checking my pulse, pressing something soft against my stomach. Her lips were moving but I couldn't hear the words. My right ear was ringing. My left ear was useless.

She lifted me. I didn't feel it. Just watched the ceiling slide past, the fluorescent lights strobing overhead, until we reached the clinic and the lights turned white and sterile.

Evelyn laid me on a table. Her hands were gentle. Her face was wet.

She worked in silence. I watched her mouth form words I couldn't hear. Watched her pull out instruments and vials and gauze. Watched her hands slow, then stop, then press against her own mouth as she turned away.

I already knew.

The pup was gone.

The room tilted. Evelyn turned back, her face composed now, professional. She cleaned my wounds. Bandaged my wrist. Pressed something cool against the back of my head. Then she pulled a thin silver seal from a locked drawer, wrote something on a document I couldn't see, and pressed the seal into the paper.

Lycan medical seal.

She tucked the document into an envelope, locked it in the drawer, and finally looked at me.

Her lips moved. I read them clearly this time.

*I'm sorry.*

I closed my eyes.

Somewhere deep inside, where Cinder used to be, there was nothing but silence.