The Defiant Ex-Luna's Hidden Royal Pup

Ember POV

I didn't sleep. The suffocating scent of Damien’s enraged cedar and storm bled under the guest room door all night, a heavy, invisible pressure reminding me that my victory was fragile. I had locked the Alpha in a digital cage, but Damien’s pride was a venomous thing. He would never just let it go.

Shortly after dawn, the heavy thud of combat boots echoed in the foyer.

I opened the door to find two massive Warriors in the black tactical uniforms of the Alpha's Elite Guard. They didn't look at me with malice, only the blank, terrifying emptiness of absolute obedience.

"By order of the Dowager Luna, you are to be escorted to the Blackwood Estate immediately," the taller Warrior stated, his voice devoid of emotion.

Down the hall, leaning against the marble archway of his study, stood Damien. A cruel, triumphant smirk played on his lips. He couldn't touch me without triggering the Chiron Protocol, so he had mind-linked the one weapon I couldn't digitally disarm: his mother. Genevieve Blackwood didn't care about SEC violations; she cared about Pack hierarchy. And to her, a *wolfless* Omega striking an Alpha was an offense punishable by death.

My phone was useless against Warriors bound by ancient Pack blood-oaths. Without a word, I grabbed my duffel bag and followed them out of the penthouse.

The ride to Long Island in the back of the armored SUV was a suffocating blur of tinted glass and the faint, musky scent of submission radiating from the guards. When the heavy iron gates of the Blackwood Estate finally loomed into view, the gothic stone walls felt less like a sanctuary and more like a mausoleum.

I was marched directly into the Great Hall.

The cavernous room was freezing. Dust motes danced in the fractured light spilling from the stained-glass windows, illuminating the oil portraits of past Alphas and Lunas who seemed to glare down at me. At the center of the room, sitting at the head of a massive black oak table, was Genevieve Blackwood. Several Pack Elders flanked her, their expressions a mix of disdain and grim curiosity.

I was forced to stand in the center of the room, completely isolated.

Genevieve stood up. Her eyes, as cold and calculating as her son's, locked onto mine. She picked up a massive, leather-bound book—the Blackwood genealogy ledger—and hurled it across the table. It hit the stone floor at my feet with a deafening crack.

"Seven years, and this book remains unstained by your *wolfless* blood," Genevieve spat, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "You have failed as a *Luna*, failed as a mate, and failed as a she-wolf."

The Elders murmured in agreement, waiting for me to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness. Waiting for the weak Omega to shatter.

I didn't even glance at the book. I kept my spine entirely straight, meeting the Dowager Luna’s furious gaze with eyes made of ice.

"A contract witnessed by the moon is a vow to the Goddess," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but it sliced through the murmurs like a silver blade. "Its sanctity holds until the final star of its final night has faded."

Dead silence fell over the Great Hall. The Elders stiffened, their eyes widening in absolute shock. It was an ancient Pack Law, one buried in texts that a *wolfless* Omega should never have had access to, let alone memorized.

Before Genevieve could recover from the blow, I shifted my tone to a flat, clinical modern cadence.

"The *Pack Alliance Contract* expires in three days," I announced, my voice ringing with absolute finality. "My duties will be concluded. Then, I will leave."

Genevieve’s face turned a mottled, furious purple. Her lips parted to snarl a command, but she was trapped. To punish me now, in front of the Elders, would be a direct violation of the sacred law I had just invoked. She was the guardian of tradition, and I had just used it to slit her throat.

*The submissive Omega was a ghost,* I thought, feeling the steady, calm rhythm of my own heartbeat. *The contracted Luna was a role nearing its end. Faye was ready for war.*

"Confine her to the east wing guest suite," Genevieve finally hissed to the guards, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "She does not leave this Estate."

As the Warriors stepped forward to escort me to my new gilded cage, my mind was already racing ahead. I was trapped behind enemy lines, and I needed to contact Jade to finalize my extraction and secure Kaia. If Genevieve expected me to play the role of the dutiful Luna for three more days, I would need to prepare for my final public appearances.

I would demand a wardrobe fitting. And the Blackwood Gallery in town was the perfect, secure location to make my demands.