Betrayed Luna's New Life

The darkness in my chambers felt suffocating, pressing against me like a living thing as I curled on my bed, still wearing the blood-stained gown from the medical wing. My wolf paced restlessly in my mind, her agitation bleeding into my bones until I couldn't tell where her grief ended and mine began.

A soft knock interrupted the silence. "Melody?" Marcus's voice carried through the door, gentle but insistent. "I'm coming in."

I didn't have the strength to protest as my brother stepped inside, his Beta instincts immediately assessing the room before his eyes settled on me with heartbreaking concern. Without a word, he crossed to my bedside and pulled me into his arms, his familiar scent of pine and earth wrapping around me like a shield.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered against my hair. "I should have been there. I should have made him stay."

The dam I'd been holding back finally burst. Sobs wracked my body as I clung to Marcus, the only family I had left who truly cared. "Something's wrong," I gasped between tears. "Marcus, something's been wrong for years, and I was too blind to see it."

He pulled back to study my face, his dark eyes—so like my own—sharp with attention. "What do you mean?"

"The mate bond." The words felt foreign on my tongue, like admitting to a heresy. "I've always felt like something was missing. Like there was this... emptiness where there should have been completeness. I thought it was just me, that I was broken somehow."

Marcus's jaw tightened, and I caught a flicker of something in his expression—not surprise, but confirmation of a suspicion he'd harbored. "Melody, there's something we need to investigate. Dorian's been acting strange for years, secretive about things that should be open between mates."

Within minutes, we were creeping through the pack house corridors like thieves in our own home. The irony wasn't lost on me—sneaking around to uncover my own mate's secrets. Marcus led me to Dorian's private study, a room I'd been subtly discouraged from entering for years.

"Stand watch," he murmured, his fingers working at the lock with practiced ease.

The study reeked of Dorian's scent, but underneath it lurked something else—something medicinal and bitter that made my wolf recoil. Marcus moved straight to the desk, his hands methodical as he searched through drawers.

"Here." His voice was deadly quiet as he pulled out a small wooden box from a hidden compartment. Inside, nestled in velvet, were dozens of tiny glass vials filled with a silvery liquid that seemed to shimmer with its own malevolent light.

Wolfsbane.

My legs gave out, and I gripped the edge of the desk as the implications crashed over me. "He's been poisoning me," I whispered, the words barely audible.

Marcus's hands shook as he lifted a leather journal from beneath the vials. His voice was hoarse as he read aloud: "Day 847: Increased dosage to 0.3ml in morning tea. Subject's wolf remains dormant. No signs of recognition or resistance to false mate bond. Clara reports successful integration into daily routine."

"Clara." Her name fell from my lips like a curse. "She's been helping him."

The room spun around me as Marcus continued reading entries that detailed years of systematic poisoning, careful documentation of my suppressed instincts, and clinical observations of how the wolfsbane kept my true nature buried. My wolf snarled in my mind, her rage burning through the last traces of the poison like acid through silk.

That's when the memories hit.

Flashbacks crashed through my consciousness like lightning—vivid, painful, and undeniably real. I was eight years old again, playing by the river that bordered our territory. A boy with storm-gray eyes and dark hair was teaching me to skip stones, his presence making my young wolf purr with contentment.

"Layne," I breathed, his name unlocking a flood of suppressed memories.

I remembered the way he'd looked at me even as children, with an intensity that spoke of recognition beyond our years. The way my wolf had always settled in his presence, the inexplicable pull I'd felt toward him before he'd been called away for royal duties. Before Dorian had swooped in with his charming smile and patient courtship, timing his approach perfectly for when my wolf was still too young to fully awaken and recognize the deception.

"He was my true mate," I whispered, the revelation hitting me like a physical blow. "Layne Adams was my fated mate, and Dorian stole that from me."

Marcus's face was granite as he closed the journal. "We're getting you out of here. Tonight."

"Where?"

"The Moonstone Pack. Alpha Kieran owes me a favor, and he's no friend to corruption." His eyes blazed with protective fury. "You need time to heal, to let the wolfsbane fully leave your system. And then, sister, we're going to make them pay for what they've stolen from you."

As if summoned by our whispered plans, my wolf threw back her head and howled—not in grief this time, but in awakening rage. The sound that emerged from my throat was wild and fierce, carrying a promise that echoed through the pack house walls.

Dorian Patterson had made the mistake of his life. He'd awakened something in me that he'd spent years trying to bury, and now that it was free, there would be no stopping it.