My Alpha's chosen mate thought I was his secret lover.

"I'll send you and your bastard pup straight to the Shadow Realm!" she snarled, her claws fully extended.

She left me bleeding on cold stone, my face in ruins, my pup gone.

Through the haze of pain, I heard my mate's voice through the mind-link.

He was comforting her.

"My poor moon, did she hurt you? Did she scratch you?"

But when he realized the "intruder" his chosen one had destroyed was me—

His fated mate, his bonded Luna—

He shattered.

---

The Silver Moon Pack hosted its Blood Moon Gala at the packhouse estate—a sprawling manor nestled in the redwood forests north of San Francisco. Under normal circumstances, it was a night of celebration, of territorial toasts and ancient rites performed beneath the crimson moon.

Tonight, I shouldn't have been there at all.

Caleb—my mate, my Alpha, the wolf whose soul was bound to mine through the Moon Oath—had asked me to stay hidden. As always.

"Our bond is... complicated for the pack to understand right now," he'd told me a hundred times, his golden eyes soft with that practiced warmth. "Just give me a little more time, Seren. I'll announce you as my Luna when the moment is right."

I'd believed him. For three years, I'd believed him.

Tonight, I'd crept into the gala wearing a borrowed dress and a veil of human perfume to mask my scent—anything to see him, even from across a crowded room. I was carrying his pup, barely two months along, and the loneliness was eating me alive.

I just wanted to be near him.

The grand hall was lit with amber chandeliers, the air thick with the musk of dominant wolves and the sharp undertone of expensive alcohol. I found a quiet corner near the bar and watched Caleb from across the room.

He looked magnificent, as always—tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair swept back, his posture radiating the effortless authority of an Alpha at the height of his power. But he wasn't alone.

Tiffany Reed clung to his arm like a silver bracelet, her platinum hair cascading down her bare back, her crimson lips curved into a possessive smile. She came from the pure-blooded Northridge lineage—one of the oldest and most powerful wolf families on the West Coast.

She was everything Caleb wanted the world to see: powerful, beautiful, well-connected.

Everything I wasn't.

I was a white wolf—a rare but politically insignificant bloodline. My kind were revered in old stories but dismissed in modern pack politics. We were considered fragile. Spiritual. Unsuited for the brutal machinations of Alpha dominance.

My brother Edmund, Alpha of the Grey Wolves up north, had warned me. "He's using you, Seren. A hidden mate is no mate at all."

But I'd been a fool. I'd thought love was enough.

I was about to leave—my feet aching, my stomach churning with more than just morning sickness—when a sharp voice cut through the ambient hum of the party.

"There she is. The little white rat who's been sniffing around our Alpha."

Tiffany stood five feet away, flanked by four of her cousin's she-wolves, their eyes gleaming with that predatory amber that meant their wolves were close to the surface.

My stomach dropped.

"Tiffany, I don't want any trouble—"

"Trouble?" She laughed, a brittle sound like cracking ice. "You've been following Caleb for weeks. Did you think we wouldn't notice? Did you think you could just appear at pack events like you belong here?"

One of her wolves—a hulking brunette with a scar across her chin—stepped forward.

"Everyone knows what she is. A stalker. Probably hoping to trap an Alpha with a pup."

I instinctively curved my arms around my belly, my heart slamming against my ribs.

"Wait," I stammered. "I'm pregnant. You don't understand—I'm his—"

"Pregnant?" Tiffany's face contorted, her wolf flashing in her eyes—pure, feral rage. "You dare carry a pup and claim it's his? Is that why he's been pulling away from me? Because of you and your pathetic little scheme?"

I shook my head, desperate. She had it entirely backward. She was the other woman. I was his mate—his real mate, bound by the Moon Oath, marked by the twin crescents on our inner wrists.

"No, Tiffany, you don't understand—you're the—"

Her fist connected with my jaw before I could finish.

The blow sent me staggering into a table, glasses shattering around me. Before I could recover, a brutal kick landed in my stomach.

The pain was blinding—white-hot and total—stealing the breath from my lungs as a cold sweat erupted across every inch of my skin. My wolf howled inside me, frantic, trying to shield the tiny life growing within.

Tiffany's wolves descended. Kicks. Scratches. A glass shattered against my shoulder blade.

I crumpled to the floor, curling into myself, arms locked protectively around my belly, terrified of what each impact was doing to my pup.

Through the pounding in my ears, I heard Tiffany's heels clicking on the marble floor. She crouched beside me, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and slammed my head against the stone.

Something warm and sticky trickled down my temple. Blood. Mixed with sweat and the salty tears I couldn't hold back.

Then Tiffany pulled out her phone.

She tapped the screen and held it up, a triumphant smirk curling her lips—the expression of a wolf who had cornered her prey.

"Hey, you," she cooed, her voice dripping with honeyed malice.

Caleb's voice came through the speaker, warm and unsuspecting—the same voice that whispered my name in the dark, that promised me the moon and stars when we were alone.

"What's wrong, Tiff?"

Tiffany giggled, pressing her heel into my ribs as she spoke.

"Would you be mad if I taught a little lesson to that white wolf who keeps stalking you?"

He chuckled—that low, indulgent sound I used to think was reserved only for me.

"If you're going to teach someone a lesson, at least let the enforcers handle it," he replied, his tone lazy with amusement.

Then came the words that broke something inside me that has never healed.

"Did she scratch you, my moon?"

...

A wave of despair pulled me under—into a darkness so deep that even my wolf retreated to the farthest corner of my mind, whimpering.

I opened my mouth, desperate to call out through the mind-link, to reach Caleb the way a Luna should always be able to reach her Alpha. But the bond was silent. Not blocked—just... empty. Like shouting into a cave with no echo.

I groaned aloud instead, a hoarse, broken sound that barely qualified as words.

"What was that noise?" Caleb's voice came through the phone speaker, sharp now, a hint of his Alpha authority bleeding through. A tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest.

I groaned louder, pouring every ounce of my agony into the sound. Hear me. Please, Moon Goddess, let him hear me.

Tiffany's eyes flicked to me, a flash of wariness crossing her face before she scrambled to cover it.

"That? That was nothing. One of the wolves got a little dramatic is all. You know how low-ranks can be."

He didn't question it. Not for a second.

"Alright. Handle it however you want—I've got your back."

"Love you," she purred, ending the call with a smug smile that made my stomach turn.

I collapsed against the cold marble floor, tears cutting tracks through the blood on my face. Tiffany stood over me, her heel still pressed into my ribs, her fingers tangled in the ruined fabric of my dress.

She turned to the growing circle of watching wolves and announced, her voice carrying the practiced authority of a she-wolf born to power:

"Don't get the wrong idea, everyone. I'm dealing with a trespasser. This white wolf had the nerve to sneak into our pack's sacred gathering and harass my Alpha. Tell me—doesn't she deserve what's coming to her?"

The whispers rippled outward like stones dropped in still water.

"Should've known. White wolves are always causing trouble."

"Who sneaks into a Blood Moon Gala? That's beyond disrespectful."

"She's clearly unstable. Tiffany's right to put her in her place."

"Honestly, she brought this on herself."

The stabbing pain in my abdomen left me unable to respond, my strength draining away with every ragged breath. My wolf keened inside me—a low, mournful sound I felt more than heard—her essence curling protectively around the flickering spark of life in my womb.

Tiffany bathed in their support like a wolf rolling in moonlight, a dark satisfaction gleaming in her amber eyes.

She crouched over me, slapping me across the face—once, twice, three times—each blow ringing in my skull like a struck bell.

My hand rose, trembling, fingers clawing at the marble as I tried to shield my stomach.

"My... pup..." I moaned, the words barely a whisper.

Tiffany laughed—a hollow, merciless sound that echoed off the vaulted ceiling.

"You're lucky that thing isn't born yet. Otherwise, I'd make sure it knew exactly how cruel this world can be to wolves who don't know their place."

Her friends yanked my head back by the hair, and the edges of my vision blurred and tilted, the grand hall swimming into a wash of candlelight and cruel faces.

But something shifted. I could smell it before I saw it—a change in the crowd's scent, the sharp tang of unease cutting through the musk of dominance and alcohol.

"Okay, that's enough." A male voice, low and uncertain. "This is... this is going too far."

"Look at her face," someone else muttered. "She's bleeding out. This isn't a discipline anymore."

One of Tiffany's wolves suddenly gasped. "Tiffany—there's blood! On the floor. A lot of blood."

The word jolted through me like a lightning strike.

Blood?

My body trembled as I fought through the pain, trying to focus my scattered senses. My hand slid beneath me, between my legs. My fingers came away slick—soaked in deep, terrifying crimson.

"My pup..." I choked. "Please... my pup..."

The scent hit the room like a bomb. Every wolf present could smell it now—the copper-tang of pregnancy blood, sharp and unmistakable. The crowd's murmur shifted, alarm threading through their collective growl.

"Is she carrying? Even if she's a trespasser, this is insane! What if she loses the pup?"

"Oh, now you all feel sorry?" another voice cut in, dark with disgust. "If that pup dies, it's on every single one of you who stood here and watched."

Tiffany's composure cracked—just for a moment. She took a step back, her face paling before she caught herself and lifted her chin with practiced defiance.

"Oh, please. She's faking it. White wolves are dramatic by nature—everyone knows that. She's not even really pregnant."

I used every last ounce of strength left in my battered body.

I turned my head, following the trail of blood with my eyes, and the truth of it hit me like a second death—the pool was spreading. My pup was dying inside me, and there was nothing I could do.

Tiffany gestured to her wolves, and they hauled me roughly off the floor, dragging me toward the back entrance of the packhouse.

"Fine," Tiffany sneered, her voice carrying that casual cruelty of a wolf who believes herself untouchable. "Since you're so desperate for a healer, we'll take you to one. But remember—you brought this on yourself."

They dragged me not toward the pack's healer quarters, but out the back, into the cold night, through the redwood grove that bordered the estate. The trees grew denser, the moonlight thinner, until the sounds of the gala faded entirely.

My gut screamed that this was wrong, but I was fading too fast to fight, my eyes refusing to stay open, my wolf too weak to do more than whimper.

We emerged at a cliffside overlook—a sheer drop into the black, churning waters of the Northern California coast. The wind carried the salt-sting of the sea, and below, jagged rocks waited like open jaws.

This was not the way to a healer.

With the last shred of my strength, I forced my eyes open.

"Please..." I gasped. "My pup might still be saved... just take me to the pack healer. I swear, I'll disappear. I'll never come near Caleb again... just save my pup..."

A contemptuous smile played on Tiffany's lips, her teeth gleaming white in the moonlight.

"And we're supposed to believe the word of a trespassing white rat?"

She leaned closer, her wolf so close to the surface that her claws extended, glinting like polished bone.

"Well, too bad," she hissed, her face contorting with malice. "You and your pup can rot here together."

She reached into her coat and withdrew a blade—not steel, but silver. The pale metal caught the moonlight, and my wolf recoiled inside me, whimpering at the sight of the one substance that could scar a wolf forever.

Silver wounds don't heal. Not fully. Not ever.

"And just to be sure," Tiffany whispered, tracing the tip of the silver blade down my cheek, "I'm going to ruin this pretty face you've been using to seduce other wolves' mates."

...

I had no strength left to fight.

My wolf was silent—retreated so deep into the marrow of my bones that I couldn't even feel her presence anymore. The mind-link between me and Caleb was a dead thread, cold and severed, as if it had never existed.

"Caleb will find out," I rasped, my voice barely audible above the crash of waves below. "He cares about this pup. He won't forgive you if he knows you killed his child."

Tiffany paused, the silver blade hovering above my skin. For one breathless moment, I thought I'd finally struck a nerve. Her jaw tightened. Her eyes flickered—uncertainty, or perhaps the ghost of fear.

But then her lips curled back, revealing the pointed canines of a wolf who had never been denied anything in her life.

With a ruthless twist of her wrist, she pressed down.

The silver blade carved a swift, deep line across my left cheek.

The pain was unlike anything I had ever experienced—beyond fire, beyond tearing flesh. Silver burned a wolf's essence itself. I could feel it poisoning the wound, searing through skin and muscle and something deeper, something that smelled of moonlight and tasted like magic.

My scream tore through the night, swallowed by the wind and the roaring sea.

"Don't you dare speak his name," Tiffany snarled, her face twisted into something barely human, her wolf riding her hard enough that her eyes blazed pure gold. "You're nothing. A white wolf nobody wanted. How would Caleb even find out? No one will remember your name by the time I'm done with you."

I froze—a chill spreading through me that had nothing to do with the coastal wind—as she carved another line. Then another.

The silver traced patterns of ruin across my face: one slash from temple to jaw, another bisecting my cheekbone, a third cutting across the bridge of my nose. Each wound hissed and smoked, the silver refusing to allow even the beginning of healing.

The stinging became so intense that I went numb. My body simply... gave up on feeling. It was the only mercy my wolf could offer me now.

She paused, breathing hard, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk as she surveyed her work.

"You look like hell now, Seren." She spoke my name like a curse. "No more competing with me for Caleb. No more slinking around, hoping the Alpha will notice you. This is what happens to wolves who forget their place."

My body was a discarded thing—a broken, bleeding vessel abandoned on the cold stone of the cliff. She vented her fury on me with methodical cruelty, cutting and tearing at my arms, my shoulders, anywhere her blade could reach.

I felt myself drifting, my consciousness teetering on the edge of something vast and dark. My wolf was so far away now. I couldn't hear her anymore.

Tiffany's wolves—her cousin and the three others—watched with faces pale as bone, the sour scent of fear rolling off them despite their dominant postures.

"Tiffany." One of them stepped forward, her voice trembling. "Maybe that's enough. If you keep going, she's going to die. The silver—there's too much of it in her system."

Tiffany scoffed, flicking blood from the blade.

"Scared? Caleb promised he'd handle everything. What are you worried about?"

She turned back to me, crouching low, and her gaze fell on my inner wrist—where the Moon Mark lived. The twin crescent moons, delicate and luminous, that had appeared on the night Caleb and I completed our bond. The mark that proved I was his fated mate, his true Luna.

Her expression darkened into something truly monstrous.

"What's this?" she hissed. "A Moon Mark? You have a Moon Mark?"

She grabbed my wrist and held it up to the moonlight, studying the silver crescents with a mixture of fascination and revulsion.

"Caleb doesn't have a mark like this." Her voice was barely a whisper now. "He would have told me. He would have—"

"He has one," I croaked, the words tearing from my throat like broken glass. "On his inner forearm. He hides it. Just like he hid me."

Something in Tiffany's face cracked. Not rage—something worse. Jealousy so pure and consuming it warped her features into something inhuman.

"You're lying."

The silver blade came down on my wrist.

She tried to cut the Moon Mark off my skin.

The pain that followed was beyond anything the physical world should allow. It was the severing of something sacred—the desecration of a bond blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. I heard something scream inside me that was not my voice and not my wolf's, but something older, something that belonged to the magic itself.

Tiffany yanked the blade back with a cry of her own. The silver had resisted—refused to cut through the mark entirely. But she'd damaged it. The twin crescents were scarred now, the right one split in two, their once-luminous glow dimmed to a sickly flicker.

"It won't come off," she snarled, frustrated, almost frantic. "Why won't it come off?"

"Because it's not yours to destroy," I whispered.

She struck me across the face—barehanded this time, her claws raking four parallel lines down my cheek—and stood up.

"Alright. That's enough for tonight." She was breathing hard, composing herself with visible effort. "I'm getting tired. We should dump her in the ravine. If I'm still in the mood later, I might come back and finish what I started."

Her wolves exchanged uneasy glances but didn't argue.

As they turned to leave, I heard one of them whisper, "Tiffany, she's still alive..."

"Then let the sea finish it," Tiffany replied without looking back. "The current will carry her far enough that no one will ever find the body."

They left.

I lay on the cold cliff, clutching my stomach, my ruined face pressed against the salt-damp stone. Each breath was a battle—a wet, rattling sound that tasted of blood and something metallic and wrong. The silver poisoning was spreading through my veins like ice.

A hollow emptiness bloomed in my chest—not just from the physical wounds, but from the silence where my wolf used to be. She was so quiet now. So far away.

"Little one..." I whispered, my fingers pressing against the flat of my stomach where a tiny heartbeat should have been. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

The tears that came were not for myself. They were for the pup who would never see the moonrise, never feel the rush of the shift, never know the warmth of a pack.

"If I survive this," I vowed, my voice cracking, "I will get justice for you. I swear it on the Moon Goddess and on every star that has ever shone."

Tears mixed with the blood streaming down my cheeks, each drop stinging the silver wounds with fresh fire.

Time blurred.

I don't know how long I lay there—minutes, hours—drifting in and out of consciousness, caught between the living world and the Shadow Realm where wolves go when they die. The moon tracked silently across the sky above me, indifferent to my suffering.

Then—a sound.

Footsteps. Not the sharp click of Tiffany's heels, but something heavier, more cautious. The scent that came with them was familiar: wolf, but not hostile. Pack-adjacent.

Through the haze of agony, I recognized Felix Thorne—Caleb's Beta, his second-in-command, the wolf who handled the things an Alpha couldn't be seen handling.

He stopped at the edge of the cliff, his face illuminated by the moonlight, and stared down at me.

His expression cycled through shock, horror, and something that might have been guilt before settling into grim professionalism.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Alpha," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "We have a situation. Tiffany's wolves went too far with that trespasser... The female's face is destroyed. She's barely breathing. There's silver damage—it's bad."

He paused, listening, then added: "You need to see this for yourself."