By the time I reached the Moon Healer’s Hall, my legs were barely holding me up.

My father lay unconscious on the stone bed. His eyes were shut tight, his face dark with bruises left by Alpha force. His chest was bound in layered rune-cloth, and one leg—crushed beyond healing—was sealed inside a thick moon-cast, cold and gray like carved rock.

The moment my mother saw me, she broke down. She clutched my hand, her voice trembling as she told me everything.

My father had been reduced to this… because of Ryke.

Because he wanted to shield his childhood mate—pregnant with his heir. Because my father had merely glanced at Syrelle while passing through pack territory.

Ryke never questioned him. Never verified the truth. He unleashed his wolf on the spot, condemning my father as vile and accusing him of terrifying a pregnant she-wolf.

Hearing it felt like my chest had been torn open.

Staring at my father, barely breathing beneath the moon wards, I swallowed my shaking hands and summoned the Pack Tribunal.

Soon, the trial date arrived.

That day, Ryke entered the Moon Court hand in hand with Syrelle, calm and composed, as though they were attending a ceremonial gathering rather than a judgment.

When they saw me, there was no remorse in their eyes—no discomfort at all. It was as if the one they had nearly killed was not a living wolf, but something disposable.

“Is this really necessary, Lavinia?” Ryke’s voice sounded behind me, sharp with impatience. “You’re making a spectacle.”

I didn’t turn around. My voice was ice-cold. “You left me no other path.”

Then I walked into the Moon Court without sparing them another glance.

The trial began.

Ryke immediately assumed a solemn, righteous air, his tone steady and convincing—like a wolf wronged by circumstance.

“To my knowledge,” he said clearly, “my father-in-law fixated his gaze on Syrelle. He disrupted neutral grounds and frightened a pregnant she-wolf. Had I not intervened, the consequences could have been far worse. I acted to uphold pack law. I would rather defend justice than protect blood ties.”

As he spoke, he positioned Syrelle behind him, shielding her like a fragile treasure.

Then he glanced at me with clear irritation.

“Instead of caring for an injured elder, you come to accuse me? This is the Moon Court. We deal in proof, not feelings. Withdraw the charge. If your family suffers consequences from this, I will not bear responsibility.”

Only then did I finally understand.

Why she stopped me from summoning the Tribunal. Why she refused to testify, even when I knelt before her.

From the beginning to the end—she stood beside Syrelle.

I clenched my teeth, forcing my rage down, and made one last attempt to reach whatever conscience he had left.

“My father treated you as his own pup,” I said hoarsely. “He guided you through pack ranks, backed every promotion, helped you claim your Alpha ambitions. He gave you everything he had.”

“Now he lies between life and death because of you. You are his son by bond. Can you truly sleep beneath the moon after this?”

Ryke scoffed, his expression full of contempt.

“Pack law is neutral. I stand on the side of truth, not sentiment. I am willing to testify that his leg was already damaged. This incident has nothing to do with me.”

He lied smoothly, without the slightest flicker of emotion.

My hands shook as I submitted the surveillance crystal I had preserved.

It was the key evidence—clearly showing Syrelle striking my father first.

But when the crystal activated, the image dissolved into static moonlight.

The evidence had been replaced.

Syrelle looked at me, lips curving faintly, silently forming two words:

Foolish.

Only two people had access to that crystal.

Me… and Ryke.

I slammed my hands onto the stone table and stood up abruptly.

“Ryke! You altered the evidence! Have you lost every shred of conscience?”

Ryke remained calm. Beneath the table, he gently squeezed Syrelle’s hand, soothing her as though calming a frightened pup.

“Syrelle has a gentle heart,” he said softly. “She didn’t wish to escalate this matter. She wanted to leave your family a way out. Yet you came here full of hostility, trying to frame her.”

Then, without haste, he submitted an audio recording to the court.

My father’s voice suddenly echoed from the sound crystal.

“So you’re Syrelle? The pup you’re carrying might not even be his. Give me five million spirit coins, or I’ll destroy you.”

My entire body went cold. The last thread of reason in my mind snapped.

Impossible.

The recording was forged.

My father had been unconscious since the Alpha assault. I had reviewed the patrol crystal dozens of times—those words had never existed.

Syrelle’s brows knit together as she spoke in a trembling, fragile tone, as if she had been cornered.

“He threatened me. I barely escaped.”

Ryke pulled her into his arms at once, his voice cold and final.

“Lavinia, I will never pardon you. Your father’s crippling is punishment from the moon itself.”

Then they submitted wave after wave of fabricated proof, accusing my father of blackmail, intimidation, and assault.

The presiding Moon Judge barely glanced at it. A few hollow words later, the verdict was delivered.

I lost.

In a single stroke, my father and I were branded as manorins—wolves who failed at extortion and turned vicious against a pregnant she-wolf.

Snickers and jeers rippled through the gallery. I clenched my fists until my nails cut into my skin.

The moment the hearing ended, before we could even step beyond the Moon Court gates, the crowd had already sealed the path.

Syrelle emerged amid flashing spirit lamps and outstretched hands. Tears glimmered in her eyes, her hands folded together like a falsely wronged saint.

The crowd’s rage and pity erupted at once, fingers stabbing toward my mother and me.

I stood there, the cold night wind biting into my face, already numb.

This wasn’t justice.

It was a trial scripted from the very beginning.

Ryke wrapped Syrelle in his arms, his voice soft with feigned devotion.

“Don’t be afraid, Syrelle. No one will ever threaten you while I breathe. I’ll keep you safe.”

The crowd roared louder.

Someone recognized me and flung a rotten egg in my direction.

A bucket of rancid animal blood crashed over my head, running down my neck and soaking into my clothes. The stench was suffocating—cold, degrading.

“She’s a she-wolf too, yet she tried to trade someone’s honor for profit. Does she have no shame?”

“If the Moon Judge hadn’t been fair, that poor girl would’ve been destroyed!”

“Her father deserved to be crippled! A daughter like that is cursed to a miserable end!”

Their curses pierced me like barbed arrows.

I bit my lip until blood filled my mouth, mixing with the foul stench in my throat.

Only then did Ryke glance at me, frowning as if I were something filthy beneath his feet.

“Stop struggling,” he said coldly. “If you behave, I might still remember our bond and allow you to stay by my side in peace.”

My voice scraped out, barely steady.

“Never. Even if I lose everything, I’ll fight you until the end.”

Ryke’s gaze darkened.

“Still refusing to repent.”

Syrelle bent slightly, looking at me with gentle pity.

“I’m sorry about your father,” she said softly, “but even if the moon turned back time, I would never agree to such a demand.”

Ryke followed smoothly, playing the role of the just Alpha.

“I am her mate, but I answer to justice. I cannot allow corruption to poison the pack.”

The crowd was completely inflamed.

“What a noble Alpha! How did he end up bonded to a woman like her?”

“A she-wolf like that would push any man to sever the bond!”

Watching Ryke’s performance made my stomach twist.

My knees suddenly gave out, and I staggered forward.

Ryke shoved Syrelle aside and drove his foot into my chest.

“Trying to feign injury in the Moon Court now? How was I ever foolish enough to love something so revolting!”

Pain detonated in my chest, stealing the air from my lungs.

Yet deeper still—in the place he once guarded—it hurt far more.

Three years ago, when his enemies ambushed him beneath a blood moon, I had thrown myself in front of the blade meant for his heart.

And now, the only thing he remembered was how to destroy me.

Syrelle tugged at his sleeve, her soft voice instantly reclaiming his attention.

“Ryke, my stomach hurts again. Could you make me some warm porridge? You always do it best.”

He agreed without hesitation and led her away, his arm wrapped tightly around her.

I watched their figures disappear into the night, feeling something inside my chest collapse, piece by piece.

For three years of our bonded marriage, every meal in the pack manor had been prepared by my father and me. Even when we were feverish or burning with sickness, Ryke never once stepped into the hearth.

Yet now, he was willing to cook moon-porridge for another she-wolf.

A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp as a blade slicing open my chest.

Just before getting into the carriage, Syrelle suddenly turned back. Her expression was gentle, pure, almost saintly.

“Don’t stain your hands over vile people,” she said softly. “The moon always judges fairly.”

The surrounding crowd was instantly moved.

Someone even spat at me.

More voices hurled curses as they dispersed.

I straightened my back, every injury screaming in protest. But when I thought of my father, I clenched my teeth and ran back to the Moon Healer’s Hall.

Wherever I passed, fingers pointed at me.

Only then did I realize the Moon Court footage had already spread through the crystal network.

Syrelle had become the fragile moon-blessed maiden the entire realm wanted to protect.

My father and I were branded as leeches—schemers, manorins, extortionists.

When I entered the ward, my father lay buried beneath layers of bandages. Both legs were shattered, his breathing unsteady, each breath trembling.

My chest tightened so painfully I nearly collapsed.

The other patients whispered among themselves.

“That kind of wolf is vicious. Injuring himself just to fake a crime.”

“Keep them away. Don’t let them try to extort us too.”

I tried desperately to explain, but no one listened.

My father shook with rage, pounding weakly against the bed.

He had spent his life helping others—yet now he was being humiliated like this, all because he trusted the wrong Alpha.

He looked at me, eyes hollow with despair.

“I treated Ryke like my own son. He’s never suffered injustice in his life. Why would he help others destroy me? What did I do wrong?”

I broke down completely. Tears streamed down my face.

But the mockery didn’t stop.

“Cruel wolves like you deserve this fate.”

More people gathered at the door, their gazes filthy with hatred.

I couldn’t let my father endure another moment. I decided to discharge him immediately.

Then the healer brought the bill.

I froze.

Every fee had been inflated more than tenfold.

The healer lowered his voice. “You offended someone far above you. Some prices must be paid.”

Pack guards closed in, their stance unmistakably predatory.

They had no intention of letting us leave unpaid.

My hands shook as I pulled out my communicator—only to see my balance reduced to nothing.

Ryke had drained it all.

I called him at once.

His voice was lazy, faintly amused. “Syrelle hasn’t been sleeping well. Think of it as compensation for her distress.”

“That’s my father’s healing cost!” I shouted.

“As long as you publicly admit you slandered Syrelle,” Ryke replied calmly, “she’ll give you a generous sum.”

“His legs are already ruined. There’s no point saving him. Admit fault and let him rest comfortably for the rest of his life.”

“When this is over, we can live properly together again.”

Then came a dull thump on his end—followed by intimate, breathless sounds.

I understood instantly.

My communicator slipped from my fingers. I covered my mouth, bile rising violently.

Before the healer could summon guards, the Pack Enforcers arrived.

“Ryke and Syrelle have reported an attempted extortion,” one said coldly. “We’re taking him for questioning.”

My father had just undergone surgery. His pain was unbearable.

I knelt and begged.

The enforcers shook their heads. “Orders from the Alpha Court. Our hands are tied.”

I tried to shield the bed, but they accused me of obstructing pack law.

My father was dragged away, fresh blood soaking through the bandages on his legs.

I chased after them—but at the corridor corner, a black sack was yanked over my head.

Fists and boots rained down on me.

“How dare you touch Alpha Ryke’s woman. Know your place.”

“Don’t kill her. She’s still his mate.”

“Mate? Ryke never cared for her. His heart’s always belonged to Syrelle. If she hadn’t forced the bond, this marriage would’ve never existed.”

I don’t know how long the beating lasted.

When it finally ended, I lay curled on the cold stone floor—motionless, broken, like discarded prey.