Luna's Journey to Freedom

The cold stone floor bit into my knees as I scrubbed another stubborn stain from the pack house entrance. My hands, once soft and manicured as befitted a Luna, were now cracked and raw from three years of menial labor. The harsh lye soap burned the cuts on my knuckles, but I didn't pause. I couldn't afford to.

"Move, Omega." The dismissive voice belonged to Sarah, a Delta's daughter who once curtsied when she saw me. Now she stepped over my outstretched arm without a second glance, her designer boots tracking mud across the section I'd just cleaned.

I bit back the sharp retort that rose in my throat. *Patience,* I reminded myself. *This is temporary. Once Gideon recovers from losing his wolf, once the pack sees his strength return, everything will go back to how it was.*

But as I watched Sarah's retreating figure, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the polished marble wall. The woman staring back was a stranger—hollow-cheeked, with dull hair pulled into a severe bun and clothes that hung loose on my diminished frame. Where was the confident Luna who once commanded respect with a single glance?

"Katherine." Marcus Rivera's voice made me look up. Gideon's Beta stood in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral. "The Alpha wants to see you in his office."

I rose slowly, my joints protesting after hours on the floor. "Of course, Beta Marcus."

He winced at the formal address. We'd once been friends—I'd been godmother to his youngest daughter. Now protocol demanded distance, even in private moments like this.

The walk to Gideon's office felt endless. Pack members I passed either ignored me completely or shot pitying glances my way. *The cursed Luna,* I could almost hear them thinking. *Mated to a broken Alpha, reduced to scrubbing floors like a common servant.*

I knocked softly on the heavy oak door.

"Enter."

Gideon sat behind his desk, head in his hands. Even in his supposed weakness, he commanded the room with an unconscious authority that made my wolf stir restlessly. She'd been so quiet lately, barely a whisper in my mind since Oliver—

I pushed that thought away. Oliver's death had shattered something in both of us. If I could just hold our family together until Gideon healed...

"You wanted to see me?" I kept my voice soft, non-threatening. These days, even the slightest perceived challenge could send him into a rage.

He looked up, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the man I'd fallen in love with. Then his expression hardened. "The Council of Alphas is visiting next week. I need you to... stay out of sight during their arrival."

The words hit like a physical blow. "I understand," I managed.

"Do you?" His laugh was bitter. "Do you understand that your very presence reminds them of my failure? That seeing the once-proud Luna of Silver Moon reduced to an Omega makes them question my ability to lead?"

Each word was a carefully placed cut. I absorbed them silently, as I'd learned to do. Fighting back only made things worse.

"I'll make sure not to embarrass you," I whispered.

Something flickered across his face—regret, maybe, or pain. But it vanished so quickly I might have imagined it.

"See that you don't."

I turned to leave, my hand on the doorknob when his voice stopped me.

"Katherine." The way he said my name, soft and broken, made me pause. "I know this is hard. But once I figure out how to get my wolf back, once I'm strong enough to truly lead... things will be different. Better."

I nodded without turning around. "I know. I believe in you, Gideon. I always have."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but it was the lie he needed to hear. The lie that kept our fractured pack together. The lie that honored Oliver's memory by refusing to let his parents' bond crumble completely.

As I walked back to my quarters—the small room in the servants' wing that had replaced the Alpha's suite—I caught sight of Oliver's memorial grove through the window. The white roses I'd planted were blooming despite the late season, their petals pristine against the darkening sky.

Soon, I told myself. Soon Gideon would heal, and we could properly grieve our son together. Soon the pack would remember why they once respected their Luna.

I just had to hold on a little longer.

But as I returned to my scrub brush and bucket, something nagged at the edge of my consciousness. A scent, perhaps, or a feeling I couldn't quite name. Something that whispered that the man in that office wasn't quite as broken as he claimed to be.

I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Grief, I told myself, could make anyone imagine things that weren't there.