Harper Alvarado POV:

My husband returned from a year of war, but he didn't come back alone. At the grand victory banquet, he intertwined his fingers with a fierce female warrior and publicly demanded I hand over the Luna ring, demoting me to a lowly concubine.

"Darla is my True Mate. Your family is nothing but a dead, rotting graveyard! Letting you stay as a concubine is my greatest charity!" he announced coldly. His mother, wearing the expensive silk I bought for her, condescendingly told me to learn my place and be grateful.

They seemed to have forgotten that for the past year, it was I who hollowed out my entire dowry to keep their bankrupt Pack from starving. It was I who coughed up blood to drag that old hag back from the gates of hell.

They thought weaponizing the brutal massacre of my entire family would break me, turning me into their obedient, unpaid blood bag forever.

Instead of crying, I calmly took off the ring, gave them a flawless curtsy, and walked away.

The moment I turned my back, I cut off their food, their winter coal, and every single copper coin. Then, carrying the martyred blood and glory of my father and six brothers, I marched straight to the Alpha King's palace.

Fletcher, you thought your little border skirmish merits could secure your true love? Then I will use the seven lives of my martyred family to get a Royal Decree, strip you of your military command, and take back every penny!

I can't wait to see how your 'True Mate' and your glorious Pack survive the harsh winter on 'love' alone. I will watch you crawl to my gates, begging for a moldy scrap of bread.

——

The soft glow of scented candles flickered in Fletcher's chambers. I stood before the mirror, wearing a translucent silk nightgown, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation. Tonight, I was going to give myself to my husband, Alpha Fletcher Terrell, as a welcome-home gift after his year-long absence at the border.

Bang. The heavy oak door was violently pushed open.

"Harper, take off the ancestral silver ring of the Terrell Pack." Fletcher's freezing, ruthless voice shattered the romantic atmosphere I had spent hours meticulously preparing. Next to him stood Darla Hutchinson, a tall, voluptuous female warrior. Fletcher’s arm was wrapped tightly around her waist. His eyes, looking at her, burned with a raw, naked lust he had never, ever shown me.

"From today on, Darla is my True Mate and the Luna of this Pack," Fletcher declared, his gaze shifting to me with absolute zero warmth. "You are stripped of your title. You will step down and serve as my personal maid."

All the blood drained from my face. The romantic setup around me suddenly felt like a grotesque, mocking joke.

For a long moment, my brain simply went blank. My legs went weak, and I could only stare at him, desperately searching his cold eyes for any sign that this was just a cruel prank. But there was nothing. Only naked disgust.

"Fletcher... what are you saying?" I stumbled forward, my voice trembling so violently it barely sounded like my own. Hot tears welled up in my eyes as I reached out a shaking hand, just wanting to touch him, to wake him up from whatever spell he was under. "I waited for you for an entire year... I hollowed out my dowry and coughed up blood for this Pack! You swore under the witness of the Moon Goddess before you left... You swore I would be your only Luna..."

"Don't touch me!" Fletcher snarled, smacking my hand away like I was some kind of contagious disease before my fingertips could even graze his sleeve. He violently shoved my shoulder.

I stumbled backwards, crashing hard against the edge of the bed. Before I could even catch my breath, he closed the distance between us. His large, calloused hand gripped my jaw with bruising force, forcing me to look up into his eyes filled with pure, unadulterated repulsion.

He raked his gaze over my carefully chosen nightgown and let out a vicious sneer. "Did you really think dressing up like a cheap whore would make me want you? Let's be honest! The only reason I married you was because you used your family's wealth to force my hand! Look at yourself—pale, sickly, and utterly unappealing. You're like a lifeless board in bed! Hugging you is like hugging a rotting corpse!"

My fingernails dug so fiercely into my palms that warm blood began to drip onto the carpet.

"And don't look at me with that victim face!" Fletcher tightened his grip on my jaw, his voice dripping with venom, deliberately weaponizing my deepest trauma. "What are you now? The great House Alvarado is nothing but a graveyard! Your father and brothers were arrogant fools whose stupidity got your entire family butchered like pigs! Your bloodline is cursed! You are a jinx! Asking you to stay as my lowly maid is an act of profound charity!"

My vision went dark.

My father and brothers had died in battle years ago, and shortly after, my mother and the entire household of the old, the weak, the women, and the children were brutally slaughtered by enemy spies! Simply because my father and brothers posed such a massive threat to the enemy nation. Enemy forces infiltrated my home and annihilated my entire bloodline! Every single person was hacked with seventy-two sword strikes. Even my third brother's newborn son was butchered and dismembered so horribly his tiny body wasn't left intact.

It was a bleeding wound in my soul, and my own husband had just poured acid directly into it.

"Oh, Fletcher, please don't be so harsh on her," Darla sighed, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his waist from behind, deliberately pressing her full breasts against his back. She flashed me a condescending, venomous smile over his shoulder. "Harper, please don't cry. Since you have nowhere to go, you can stay and be Fletcher's maid. I loathe doing chores anyway. From now on, you can draw our bathwater, and... oh, you can wash our bedsheets every morning. It will give a fragile, broken thing like you a sense of purpose."

"What is all this screaming?" The harsh voice of my mother-in-law, Genevieve, echoed from the hallway. She walked into the room, drawn by the commotion. She was wearing the expensive, gold-threaded silk I bought for her, yet when she saw me on the floor in my nightgown, her face twisted with absolute disdain.

"Have you no shame, Harper?" Genevieve spat. "Darla is a true female Alpha. You just smell of death. It is the Pack that feeds you! Fletcher is merciful enough to let you serve him. Learn to know your place and be grateful!"

Grateful?

In that split second, the suffocating grip of heartbreak and injustice around my throat just... snapped.

On the night of our wedding, he left. His mother fell gravely ill, and I used my pure gold to snatch that old hag from the Reaper. Every single bite of food these wolves ate, the chandeliers above their heads, the very bed they were about to fuck on—all bought with my massive dowry!

And now, they were standing on the bloody corpses of my slaughtered family, calling me a rotting corpse, and demanding I wash their dirty bedsheets?!

It was as if a massive bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. The agonizing heartbreak suddenly twisted into a sickening, absurdly ridiculous wave of pure nausea. And then... the nausea turned into a bone-chilling, terrifying calm.

I slowly stood up from the floor. With agonizing slowness, I slid the heavy, ancestral silver Luna ring off my finger. The metal clinked sharply as I dropped it onto the bedside table.

"If that is the Alpha's command," I lowered my eyes, completely masking the lethal, venomous sharpness hidden in my gaze. "I step down."

Darla's lips curled into a victorious smirk. Fletcher let out a long breath of relief, letting go of my jaw and looking at Darla with deep affection.

Smoothing the invisible wrinkles on my silk gown, I gave them one last, perfect curtsy befitting a lowly maid, playing the part of the defeated, obedient victim to absolute perfection.

But the moment I turned my back and walked out of his room, a twisted, bloodcurdling sneer finally broke through the fragile mask on my face.

Enjoy your 'True Mate', Fletcher, I mocked from the dark, icy corners of my mind.

I can't wait to see your arrogant Alpha pride shatter into bloody pieces. Let's see how deep your True Love runs when you realize your glorious Pack doesn't even have moldy scraps to eat... once I cut off every single penny of my money.

Harper Alvarado POV:

The heavy oak door of Fletcher's chambers clicked shut behind me, but it couldn't completely muffle Darla's coy giggles from inside. In the dim hallway, my loyal maid, Phoebe, stood trembling in the shadows. She had been waiting outside the whole time. Her eyes were bloodshot, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles were white. She had heard everything.

Without a word, she hurried to my side, draping her own thin shawl over my shivering shoulders, and fell into step behind me as we walked down the long, freezing corridor of the Packhouse toward my own chambers.

The commotion had already drawn the night staff out of the woodwork. Bad news travels fast in a Packhouse, especially when it's shouted by the Alpha and the old Luna. The servants, who used to bow so low their noses nearly touched the floor whenever I passed, now openly lined the hallway. They didn't even bother to hide their gloating stares or their malicious whispers.

"Did you hear? The Alpha stripped her title. She's just a maid now," a scullery maid whispered loudly to her companion, making sure I could hear.

"About time. She's just a cursed jinx anyway," a guard snickered, his eyes shamelessly raking over my translucent silk nightgown.

"I heard the new Luna is making her wash their dirty bedsheets by hand tomorrow morning," another chimed in, followed by a chorus of suppressed, mocking laughter.

I felt Phoebe shaking with rage behind me, but I didn't stop.

When I finally pushed open the door to my own chambers, the biting cold hit me instantly. The fireplace was completely dead. Not a single piece of coal had been delivered for the night.

The moment the door clicked shut, sealing us inside, Phoebe finally collapsed to her knees.

"Miss... how could he? How could Alpha Fletcher do this?!" Phoebe sobbed, her fingers digging desperately into the cold floorboards. "He knew! He knew how much that night destroyed you! How could he use the slaughter of the Master, the Madam, and the young lords as a weapon to humiliate you in front of everyone?!"

Tears streamed down Phoebe's face, her eyes filled with a blood-deep, agonizing hatred. "My parents and my brother were hacked to pieces that night too! Their blood soaked the very soil we grew up on! And for a whole year, you coughed up your own blood to keep his wretched Pack alive! Yet he stomped on our family's bloody graves just to lift that whore up!"

Looking at Phoebe, my childhood companion who shared my deepest, most horrifying trauma, the last fragile thread of sorrow in my heart simply... snapped.

"Stand up, Phoebe," I said, my voice dropping to an eerie, frozen whisper. I knelt and gently wiped the tears from her face. "Tears cannot wash away the blood of our families. Fletcher said House Alvarado is nothing but a dead, rotting graveyard. Then it is time we show him how the ghosts from that graveyard feast."

Phoebe choked back her sobs, looking at me with widened eyes.

"Bring me the dowry ledgers," I commanded, standing up. "Every single one."

Phoebe rushed to the locked mahogany chest and pulled out the heavy leather-bound ledgers. As I flipped through the pages—a testament to the immense wealth of my martyred family—I noticed a glaring, massive discrepancy.

"The revenue from our trading companies in the human realm," I traced the ink with my finger, my eyes narrowing. "Why hasn't this month's gold been transferred to my private vault?"

Phoebe gritted her teeth, her fists trembling with fresh rage. "It was the old Luna, Genevieve. She ordered the stewards to intercept the funds three days ago! Miss, they knew! Fletcher mind-linked his mother days before he arrived. They planned to drain your accounts before he even brought Darla through the gates!"

A sinister, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips.

"And it's not just the gold," Phoebe added bitterly. "She had the guards raid our secondary storehouse yesterday and took the exquisite ruby jewelry set left by your mother! She was wearing them tonight to welcome Darla!"

A dangerous, murderous glint flashed in the grey depths of my eyes. The old hag was wearing my dead mother's blood-stained legacy to celebrate my replacement.

"They even cut off our winter coal to heat Darla's grand pavilion," Phoebe muttered, looking at the dead fireplace.

"Let them enjoy the warmth while it lasts," I said, snapping the ledger shut with a sharp crack that echoed like a gunshot. "Because winter is here."

I walked to the window. Down in the courtyard, the Terrell warriors were laughing, roasting meat and drinking the expensive wine bought with my gold.

"Starting tomorrow morning," I ordered, my tone absolute and merciless. "Send the Shadow Sentinels to every Alvarado-owned business, farm, and moon-silver mine. Cease all fund transfers to the Terrell Pack. Cut off their food supplies, their winter clothing, their weapon shipments, and their medical herbs. Freeze every single copper coin."

Phoebe's eyes ignited with a fierce, vengeful fire. "You mean... we cut them off completely?"

"Completely," I turned to face her. "Since Darla loathes the 'petty chores' of managing a Pack, let's see how her glorious sword skills conjure bread out of thin air. I want a detailed calculation of everything they have leeched from us this past year. They will vomit it all back up, with interest."

But simply cutting off the money wasn't enough. Fletcher had the Alpha King's blessing for this union. If I stayed, they would eventually use Pack Law to force me to yield, draining me dry as a captive concubine.

I needed to sever the bond at its very root.

"Prepare ink and parchment," I said, my gaze shifting toward the distant, towering spires of the Royal Palace. "I am writing to the Alpha King."

Phoebe gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. To petition the King directly was an incredibly bold, almost taboo move for a female wolf.

But I didn't care. Fletcher thought his little border skirmishes made him a god who could dictate my fate? Fine. Let's see how his pathetic military merits weigh against the blood of six Alvarado generals.

I picked up the quill. My handwriting was sharp, decisive, and filled with lethal intent.

I reminded the King that my father and six brothers were martyred heroes who had shed their last drop of blood defending his empire. I, Harper Alvarado, was their only surviving bloodline.

I implored the Alpha King, in consideration of House Alvarado's generations of loyalty and ultimate sacrifice, to grant an absolute annulment of my union with Fletcher Terrell. I explicitly stated that the Terrell Pack was forcibly seizing the assets of a martyr's orphan to fund a mistress, and I requested royal permission to take back my dowry and leave the Pack entirely.

After the last word was written, I blew the ink dry, folded the letter, and sealed it with the Alvarado family crest—a crest forged in blood and iron.

"Find the most reliable messenger in our Vanguard," I ordered, handing the heavy envelope to Phoebe. "Ride through the night. Deliver this straight to the Royal Court."

Harper Alvarado POV:

Two days had passed since my letter was dispatched by the Shadow Sentinels. The Royal Court hadn't replied yet, but I wasn't anxious. A petition of that magnitude took time.

For the past forty-eight hours, I had barricaded myself in my freezing chambers. Whenever the servants pounded on my door, demanding I come out and scrub the new Luna's bedsheets, I simply ignored them. Fletcher and Darla were too busy preparing for her grand installation ceremony to bother with me, likely assuming I was huddled in a corner, crying my eyes out in utter despair.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

The heavy oak door to my quarters shuddered under an impatient fist. Clara, the personal maid of the dowager Luna, Genevieve, stood in the hallway with her nose pointed at the ceiling.

"Miss Alvarado," Clara announced, deliberately dropping my title. "The old Luna requests your presence in the grand parlor. Immediately."

Phoebe bristled beside me, her eyes flashing with a protective growl, but I simply gave her a calming glance. I smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on my elegant, dark velvet gown—one of the few things they hadn't managed to steal yet. I knew exactly why I was being summoned. The financial freeze had finally hit them where it hurt.

When I stepped into the lavish parlor, Genevieve Terrell was sitting in the center of a plush sofa. The moment my eyes landed on her, a wave of pure, unadulterated nausea twisted my stomach.

Around her wrinkled neck rested the exquisite, blood-red ruby necklace that belonged to my martyred mother.

"Harper, my dear child, come sit," Genevieve cooed, her voice dripping with artificial, sickening affection as she patted the seat closest to her.

I didn't move closer, opting instead to remain standing, my posture straight and regal. Her fake smile stiffened for a fraction of a second before she sighed, shaking her head like a helpless, benevolent elder.

"I heard about what Fletcher did. That boy is young, reckless, and easily seduced," Genevieve began, her tone soft and placating. "I know you feel wronged, Harper. But let's be honest between us women... Darla is just a rough, unrefined brute. She has spent her life rolling in the mud and blood with male soldiers. She has no aristocratic grace, no manners. How could a barbaric mutt like her ever compare to a delicate, noble flower like you?"

I watched her perform, my heart cold and detached.

"She might get the empty title of Luna because of her military merits, but she knows absolutely nothing of running an estate," Genevieve continued, leaning forward as if sharing a juicy secret. "So, my dear, why lower yourself to bicker with a brute? I heard you froze the pack accounts out of a little... childish jealousy. Unfreeze them. Pay for the merchants and the ceremony. Let her have her little moment of glory, and you be the bigger person. As long as you hold the purse strings, you will always be the true mistress of this Pack in my eyes."

I let out a soft, chilling laugh. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet.

"If Darla is just a rough, unrefined brute," I said, my voice eerily calm as I locked eyes with her. "Then you, Lady Genevieve, are a greedy, two-faced leech. And you certainly are not worthy of wearing my dead mother's rubies."

Genevieve's face darkened, the benevolent mask slipping entirely to reveal her ugly, aristocratic entitlement.

"Harper! I am speaking to you nicely, do not test my patience!" she snapped, slamming her teacup onto the saucer with a sharp clatter. "You are Fletcher's woman! The Alvarado wealth belongs to the Terrell Pack! You have no right to freeze the accounts! Fletcher needs her strength on the battlefield, and he needs your wealth to secure the Pack's future! It is your duty to fund this Pack, concubine or not!"

"My duty?" I took a slow, deliberate step forward, my Alpha bloodline flaring, casting a sudden, suffocating pressure over the room. "I dragged you out of the grave with my gold. I fed your starving wolves. And you use my money to fund a party for your son's mistress, while wearing my slaughtered mother's jewelry?"

Genevieve instinctively shrank back into the sofa, her face turning pale.

"My duty to this parasitic Pack ended the moment your son demanded my Luna ring," I declared, every word dripping with lethal intent. "From this moment on, the Terrell Pack will not see a single copper coin from me. And I will be taking back every single thing you stole. Starting with those rubies."

"You can't do this!" Genevieve shrieked, finally realizing the absolute gravity of the situation. Panic flooded her eyes. "Your marriage to Fletcher is bound by Pack Law! You are trapped here! If you dare leave, Fletcher will have you hunted down!"

"Then let us see if the Alpha King sides with a pack of thieving betrayers, or with the orphaned daughter of six martyred generals," I replied coldly.

Genevieve's eyes widened in sheer terror. All the color drained from her face. "The... The Alpha King? What... what have you done?!"

I turned my back on her, refusing to look at her pathetic, dread-twisted face for another second.

At the doorway, I paused and looked over my shoulder, offering a mocking smirk. "Oh, and by the way, my lady. Good luck paying the merchants for tomorrow's grand feast. I'm sure Darla's 'rough manners' will impress them when you tell them the Pack vault is completely empty."