The banquet hall glowed with candlelight. Long tables stretched across the room, covered in white cloth. Silver platters held roasted meats, fresh bread, and bowls of fruit. The air smelled like rosemary and wine. Pack members filled the seats, dressed in their best. Laughter and conversation echoed off the stone walls.

This was Celeste's welcome banquet. Christopher had insisted on it. He wanted the whole pack to celebrate her return.

I sat at the head table. Christopher was beside me. Celeste sat on his other side. She wore a pale lavender dress that made her look even more delicate. Her hair was pinned up with small white flowers. She smiled at everyone who approached, thanking them softly.

Christopher barely looked at me all night. His attention was fixed on her. He made sure her glass was full. He asked if she was comfortable. He leaned in when she spoke, like her words were the only ones that mattered.

I picked at my food. My wolf was silent. She had been silent for days now. I didn't blame her.

The servers brought out the main course. A whole roasted boar, glazed and steaming. Vegetables arranged around it. The pack cheered. Christopher stood and raised his glass.

"To Celeste," he said. His voice carried across the hall. "Welcome home."

"To Celeste!" the pack echoed.

Glasses clinked. Everyone drank. I lifted mine but barely sipped.

Celeste smiled. She reached for her fork. She took a bite of the glazed meat.

Then she froze.

Her eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her throat. The fork clattered onto her plate.

"Celeste?" Christopher turned to her immediately.

She gasped. Her whole body started to shake. She clutched the edge of the table.

"I—I can't—" Her voice was strangled.

The hall went silent. Everyone stared.

Celeste's face twisted. She convulsed in her chair. Her breathing came in short, ragged bursts. Then she collapsed forward, her head hitting the table.

"Celeste!" Christopher caught her before she fell. "Get the healers! Now!"

Two wolves bolted from the room. The pack erupted into chaos. People stood, shouting. Some rushed forward. Others backed away.

I sat frozen. My heart pounded.

Christopher cradled Celeste in his arms. Her body was limp. Her eyes fluttered. She looked up at him, her lips moving.

"Poison," she whispered. Her voice was so faint I almost didn't hear it.

Christopher's head snapped up. "What?"

"Poison," she said again. Her hand trembled as she lifted it. Her finger pointed.

At me.

"I saw her," Celeste breathed. "Near my plate. Before dinner."

The room exploded.

"What?"

"The Luna?"

"She poisoned her?"

I stood so fast my chair tipped over. "No. I didn't—"

Christopher's eyes locked on mine. They were cold. Hard.

"Rosalia," he said. His voice was low. Dangerous.

"I didn't do anything," I said. My voice shook. "I swear—"

"You were near her plate?" he demanded.

"I walked past the table earlier. That's all. I didn't touch anything."

The healers rushed in. They surrounded Celeste, checking her pulse, her breathing. One of them pulled out a vial and pressed it to her lips.

Christopher didn't look away from me. His aura pressed down. Heavy. Suffocating. The Alpha command in it made my knees buckle.

"You will come with me," he said. "Now."

He didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed my arm. His grip was iron. He dragged me out of the hall. I stumbled, trying to keep up.

"Christopher, please—"

"Quiet."

He pulled me down the stairs. Down into the lower levels of the pack house. The stone walls were cold. Damp. The air smelled like earth and rust.

The cells.

My stomach dropped.

"You can't be serious," I said.

He shoved me into one of the cells. The door clanged shut. The lock clicked.

I grabbed the bars. "I didn't poison her. I didn't do anything!"

Christopher stood on the other side. His face was a mask. No warmth. No doubt.

"You'll stay here," he said. "Until we know for sure."

"Know what? I'm innocent!"

"Then you have nothing to worry about." His voice was flat.

He turned and walked away. His footsteps echoed down the hall. Then silence.

I sank onto the stone bench. My hands were shaking. My wolf stirred, just barely. A faint whimper.

I wrapped my arms around myself. The cell was dark. Cold. I could hear water dripping somewhere.

I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just sat there.

All night.

***

The healers came at dawn. I heard their voices before I saw them.

"There's no poison in her system."

"Are you sure?"

"We tested everything. Her blood, her stomach contents. Nothing."

"Then what was it?"

"Could have been a panic attack. Or something she ate that didn't agree with her. But it wasn't poison."

Footsteps approached. Christopher appeared at the cell door. He looked tired. His shirt was wrinkled. His jaw was tight.

He unlocked the door. "You can go."

I stood slowly. My legs were stiff. "That's it?"

He didn't answer. He just stepped aside.

I walked past him. I didn't look back.

No apology. No acknowledgment that he'd locked me up for nothing.

I climbed the stairs. The pack house was quiet. Most wolves were still asleep.

I went to my room. I closed the door. I sat on the bed.

My hands were still shaking.

***

Weeks passed. Celeste recovered quickly. She moved through the pack house like a shadow. Always near Christopher. Always watching.

I kept my distance. I stopped going to pack events. I stayed in my room or walked the grounds alone.

Then one morning, Riley Tucker burst into the council room.

I was there with Christopher and the Beta, Daniel Voss. We were discussing border patrols. Routine stuff.

Riley didn't knock. She just stormed in, holding something in her hand.

"Look what I found," she said. Her voice was sharp. Triumphant.

She held up a necklace. Moonstone beads strung on a silver chain. The late Luna's necklace. The one that had been missing for months.

"Where did you find that?" Christopher stood.

"In her room." Riley pointed at me. "Hidden in her dresser."

My blood went cold.

"That's not possible," I said.

"I saw it myself." Riley's smile was vicious. "Tucked under her clothes. Like she was trying to hide it."

Christopher's eyes turned to me. That same cold look.

"Rosalia," he said slowly. "Do you have an explanation?"

"I didn't take it," I said. My voice was steady. Calm. "I've never even worn that necklace. You know that."

"Then how did it end up in your room?"

"I don't know. Someone put it there."

Riley laughed. "Of course. Blame someone else."

Christopher took the necklace from Riley. He turned it over in his hands. His jaw worked.

"This was my mother's," he said quietly. "It's irreplaceable."

"I know," I said. "That's why I would never—"

"Enough." He cut me off. His voice was hard. Final. "You're stripped of all ceremonial duties. Effective immediately."

The words hit me like a slap.

"Christopher—"

"You will not represent this pack at any official events. You will not attend council meetings. You will not speak on behalf of Ironveil."

Daniel shifted uncomfortably. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Riley's smile widened.

I looked at Christopher. Really looked at him. Searching for any trace of the man I thought I knew.

There was nothing.

"Understood," I said quietly.

I turned and walked out.

Behind me, I heard Celeste's soft voice.

"I'm so sorry this happened, Christopher. It must be so hard for you."

I didn't look back.

I stood outside Christopher's study for a long time before I knocked.

The door was heavy oak. I could hear him moving inside. Papers rustling. The clink of a glass.

I raised my hand. Knocked twice.

"Come in."

I pushed the door open. Christopher sat behind his desk. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. A glass of whiskey sat near his elbow. He didn't look up.

"Christopher," I said quietly. "Can we talk?"

"Make it quick." He signed something. Set it aside.

I closed the door behind me. Stepped forward. My hands were steady. I'd practiced this.

"I need you to look at the pattern," I said.

He glanced up. His expression was flat. "What pattern?"

"The accusations. The incidents." I kept my voice calm. Even. "The poisoning that wasn't poison. The necklace that appeared in my room. The stairs. They all happened when you were nearby. When there were witnesses. When it would look the worst for me."

Christopher leaned back in his chair. He picked up his glass. Took a sip.

"What are you saying, Rosalia?"

"I'm saying someone is setting me up. And I'm asking you to investigate before you punish me again."

He set the glass down. Slowly. "You think Celeste is lying."

"I think the timing is suspicious."

"Celeste has no reason to lie."

"Maybe not. But someone does."

Christopher stood. He walked around the desk. Stopped in front of me. His aura pressed down. Not full Alpha command. But close.

"Let me be clear," he said. His voice was low. Hard. "Celeste is recovering from years of illness. She came here seeking safety. She has been nothing but kind to everyone in this pack. Including you."

"Christopher—"

"You, on the other hand, have been cold. Distant. Unwelcoming." He crossed his arms. "I think your jealousy is clouding your judgment."

The word hit me like a slap. Jealousy.

"I'm not jealous," I said quietly.

"Aren't you?" He tilted his head. "Celeste is an old friend. That's all. But you've treated her like a threat from the moment she arrived."

I looked at him. Really looked. His jaw was set. His eyes were certain. Unshakable.

He believed every word he was saying.

"I'm asking you to investigate," I said again. "Just look into it. Please."

"There's nothing to investigate." He turned away. Walked back to his desk. "Celeste wouldn't lie. Not to me."

The finality in his voice was clear. This conversation was over.

I stood there for a moment. My wolf stirred. A faint, sad sound.

I understood now. Fully. Coldly.

He would never choose my word over hers. Not because the evidence supported her. But because believing her was easier than examining his own choices.

"Try harder to be welcoming," Christopher said without looking up. "It would make things easier for everyone."

I didn't answer. I just turned and walked out.

The door closed softly behind me.

***

Two days later, the neighboring pack arrived.

The Crescent Ridge wolves were here for a treaty signing. Their Alpha, Marcus Hale, brought a dozen warriors with him. The pack house buzzed with activity. Omegas prepared guest rooms. The kitchens worked overtime.

I stayed in the background. I wasn't allowed at official events anymore. But I could still move through the pack house.

I was in the kitchen when I heard the scream.

It came from the main hall. High. Terrified.

I dropped the dish I was holding. Ran.

The main staircase was in chaos. Pack members crowded around the bottom. Visiting warriors pushed forward. Voices shouted over each other.

I shoved through the crowd.

Celeste lay at the bottom of the stairs. Her body was crumpled. Her wrist bent at a wrong angle. Tears streamed down her face.

"She pushed me!" Celeste sobbed. "Rosalia pushed me!"

My blood went cold.

"I didn't—" I started.

"I saw her!" Celeste pointed at me with her good hand. "At the top of the stairs. She shoved me. I tried to catch myself but—" Her voice broke into sobs.

Christopher appeared. He pushed through the crowd. Dropped to his knees beside her.

"Celeste." His voice was raw. "Don't move. The healers are coming."

"It hurts," she whimpered. "Christopher, it hurts so much."

He looked up. His eyes found mine. They were blazing.

"You," he said. The Alpha command rolled off him in waves. "Kneel."

My knees buckled. I tried to resist. My wolf thrashed inside me. But the Alpha tone was absolute. I sank to the floor.

"Christopher, I wasn't even—"

"Kneel," he repeated. Louder.

My body obeyed. I knelt on the cold stone. The crowd pressed closer. I could feel their eyes. The visiting warriors. The Ironveil pack. All watching.

Christopher stood. He walked toward me. Stopped right in front of me.

"Apologize," he said.

"I didn't do anything."

"Apologize. Now."

The Alpha tone wrapped around my throat. Squeezed. My wolf howled in agony. My mouth opened.

"I'm sorry." The words were forced out. Strangled. "I'm sorry, Celeste."

Celeste looked at me. Her tears glistened. But her eyes—her eyes were sharp. Satisfied.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I forgive you."

The healers arrived. They lifted her carefully. Carried her away. Christopher followed without a backward glance.

The crowd dispersed slowly. Murmuring. Whispering.

I stayed kneeling. My body wouldn't move yet. The Alpha command still held me.

Finally, it released. I stood. My legs shook.

I looked up. Riley stood on the landing above. Arms crossed. Smirking.

Our eyes met. She didn't look away. Just smiled wider.

I turned. Walked back to the kitchen. Three Omegas were there. They'd seen me the whole time. They knew I hadn't been near the stairs.

But none of them said a word.

***

Christopher summoned me to his office that night.

I didn't knock this time. Just walked in.

He stood by the window. Arms behind his back. He didn't turn around.

"Sit," he said.

I sat.

He turned. Walked to his desk. Stood over me. The Alpha aura pressed down. Heavy. Suffocating.

"One more incident," he said. His voice was ice. "One more accusation. One more scene. And there will be consequences you cannot walk back from."

I looked up at him. "I wasn't near the stairs."

"That's not what Celeste said."

"The Omegas can confirm—"

"Enough." He slammed his hand on the desk. "I am done hearing excuses. You will stay away from Celeste. You will not speak to her. You will not approach her. Do you understand?"

I didn't answer.

"Do you understand?" The Alpha tone surged.

"Yes," I said quietly.

"Good." He turned away. "You're dismissed."

I stood. Walked to the door. My hand was on the handle when he spoke again.

"I don't know what happened to you, Rosalia," he said. His voice was quieter now. Almost sad. "But this isn't who you used to be."

I didn't turn around. "No," I said. "It's not."

I opened the door. Stepped into the hallway.

Celeste was there. Leaning against the wall. Her wrist was wrapped in white bandages. She looked up as I passed.

Our eyes met.

She smiled. Small. Private.

"I hope you finally understand your position," she murmured.

For the first time, the soft, fragile mask was gone. Just for a second. Her eyes were sharp. Cold. Triumphant.

Then she turned and walked away. The delicate, injured girl again.

I stood there. Alone in the hallway.

My wolf was silent. She'd stopped whimpering days ago. Now she just… pulled back. Deeper. Like she was trying to disappear.

I understood how she felt.

I walked back to my room. Closed the door. Sat on the edge of the bed.

My hands didn't shake anymore. They were steady. Cold.

Something inside me had finally broken. Not shattered. Just… gone quiet.

I didn't cry.

I just sat there in the dark.

Mochi grew braver every week, which was the problem.

He'd trot into the common room on his stubby legs, tail wagging, and nose at whoever's boots looked interesting. Most of the pack ignored him. Celeste did not.

"He growled at me," she told Christopher one evening, her voice pitched soft and wounded, just loud enough for me to hear from the hallway. "I know he's just a pup, but I flinched. I couldn't help it."

"He's never growled at anyone," I said, stepping into the room before I could stop myself.

Celeste's eyes went wide and glassy. "I'm not lying, Rosalia."

Christopher didn't look at me. "He shouldn't be in the communal areas. It's unhygienic."

"He's clean. I bathe him myself."

"A Luna who spends more time on a stray than pack discipline sends the wrong message." He said it flatly, like a policy, not a cruelty. "Keep him in your room."

So I did. I kept Mochi in my room, and at night he curled against my chest, a small warm weight that still trusted me completely. He didn't know what I'd become in this house — invisible, accused, hollowed out. To him I was just the hand that fed him, the heartbeat he fell asleep against.

He was the only thing in Ironveil that still looked at me like I mattered.

The blizzard came on a Tuesday. I remember because I'd been counting days since the stairs, since Christopher's Alpha tone had forced an apology out of my own throat. The wind screamed against the windows that night, snow slamming sideways in sheets so thick you couldn't see the tree line.

I was asleep with Mochi tucked under my chin when the door slammed open.

Christopher filled the doorway, his face carved from something I didn't recognize. "Get up."

"What—"

He crossed the room before I finished the word. His hand closed around Mochi's scruff and lifted him straight out of the blankets.

Mochi yelped, thin and startled, and something in me detonated.

"No!" I lunged, clawing at Christopher's forearm, my nails dragging red lines into his skin. "Give him back — Christopher, give him back to me—"

"A Luna who cannot obey doesn't deserve pets." His voice was terrible in its calm. He held Mochi against his chest like a bundle of laundry, ignoring the pup's frantic wriggling, ignoring my hands tearing at his sleeve.

"Where are you taking him?" I screamed it. "Christopher, please—"

He didn't answer. He carried Mochi out into the hallway, and I ran after him barefoot, the stone floor like ice under my feet, screaming his name, screaming Mochi's name, until we reached the front doors and the storm ripped them open before he'd even touched the handle.

He walked out into the white.

I followed as far as the border markers before my legs gave out in the snow. I watched him carry my pup past the pack line, into the dark trees where rogues were known to run, and set him down in a drift with the wind howling around them both.

"Mochi!" My voice broke apart in the storm. "Mochi, come back — please, please come back to me—"

Christopher turned and walked back toward me without a backward glance at the small shape struggling in the snow behind him.

I don't remember him dragging me inside. I remember the door locking. I remember my throat raw and empty, no voice left in it, my hands so cold I couldn't feel them curl into fists against the wood.

Mochi was never found.

Something in me didn't shatter that night. It just — stopped. Quietly. The way bone gives out under enough pressure, without even the mercy of a loud sound.

The next evening, they summoned me to dinner anyway. A bowl of stew sat steaming in front of my chair. I smelled it before I sat down — that bitter green sharpness underneath the broth — and pushed it away.

"I can't eat this," I said. "Wolfsbane. It's in the healer's records. I'm severely allergic."

Christopher's jaw tightened. Celeste, beside him, said nothing, but I saw the small tilt of her head, the whisper she'd clearly already planted.

"You fabricate ailments when it's convenient," Christopher said. "Eat."

"Christopher, please, I'm not lying—"

"Eat the stew, Rosalia." The Alpha tone rolled over the table, pressing down on my chest, my throat, my hands. My body wasn't mine anymore. My arm lifted the spoon against my own screaming will.

The first swallow burned going down. The second one I don't remember at all.

The convulsions hit before I finished the bowl — my back arching, my vision splitting into white lines, my wolf shrieking somewhere far away and getting farther. Foam at my lips. The table shaking under my hands. Somewhere above me Christopher's face flickered — just for a second — into something that looked almost like fear.

Then Celeste's hand was on his arm, her voice low at his ear. "I've seen this kind of performance before, Christopher."

And the fear on his face went out like a snuffed candle.