After Luna's Downfall, She Became His Healer

The Autumn Equinox Gala was a sea of crystal and candlelight, the Silver City Pack's elite gathered in their finest attire. I stood beside Ronan, my fingers nervously twisting the Luna pendant that hung at my throat—the symbol of my position, my identity.

"Smile, Mia," Ronan whispered, his hand possessively curving around my waist. "You're the Luna. Act like it."

I nodded, forcing my lips upward. Three months as Ronan's mate and Luna, and still the title felt like borrowed clothing—too large, too heavy. Across the room, Viviana's eyes tracked our movements, her smile never reaching her eyes.

"Luna Mia," she cooed, approaching with two glasses of deep red wine. "A toast to our unity."

She extended a glass toward me, her perfectly manicured hand steady. Something flickered in her eyes—something that made my wolf stir uneasily within me.

"To unity," I echoed, accepting the glass.

Viviana's smile widened as she raised her own glass. "To new beginnings."

We drank simultaneously. The wine was rich and tart, but as it slid down my throat, I noticed Viviana's expression change—subtle at first, then dramatically. Her face contorted, eyes widening in shock. She dropped her glass, which shattered on the marble floor.

"Viviana!" Ronan rushed forward as she began to convulse.

Foam bubbled at the corners of her mouth as she collapsed into Ronan's arms. Her trembling finger pointed directly at me.

"She... poisoned me," Viviana gasped, her voice barely audible. "The wine..."

The room erupted in chaos. Guards materialized at my sides, gripping my arms with bruising force.

"No!" I struggled against them. "I didn't—I would never—"

One of the servers stepped forward, face pale. "I saw her slip something into Miss Viviana's glass."

"That's a lie!" My voice cracked with desperation.

But Ronan wasn't listening. His eyes had turned to ice as he cradled Viviana's now-limp form. "Search her."

They tore through my clutch, and my heart stopped when they produced a small vial filled with green liquid—a wolfsbane derivative. I had never seen it before.

"Ronan, please," I begged as they dragged me away. "I didn't do this."

---

The judgment hall was cold and silent, save for Viviana's shallow breathing from the couch where she lay, still pale but stable after emergency treatment. The entire pack council sat in tiered seats, watching with expressions ranging from disgust to pity.

"Alpha," the pack healer said, "Miss Viviana will recover fully. The dose was non-lethal but calculated for maximum distress."

Ronan's jaw clenched. "Explain."

"The toxin was designed to mimic symptoms without causing permanent damage. It suggests..."

"A warning," Ronan finished, his voice deadly quiet. "Or a practice run."

His eyes found mine, and I saw nothing of the man who had promised to cherish me forever. Only the Alpha remained—cold, calculating, furious.

"Ronan, please listen to me." I stepped forward, tears streaming down my face. "I would never harm anyone, especially not Viviana. Someone planted that vial—"

"Silence!" His voice cracked like thunder. "You stand accused of attempting to poison a member of my inner circle."

"But there hasn't been an investigation!" My voice rose desperately. "Anyone could have planted that vial!"

"The evidence is clear." Ronan stood, towering over me. "Your jealousy has endangered this pack."

He approached slowly, each step deliberate. Reaching out, he grasped the Luna pendant at my throat.

"You are no longer worthy of this title."

With a sharp tug, he tore it from my neck. The clasp bit into my skin, drawing blood that trickled warm down my collarbone.

"Ronan, don't do this," I sobbed, reaching for him.

He stepped back, disgust evident in his eyes. "Mia Montgomery, you are stripped of your title as Luna of the Silver City Pack."

The pendant clattered to the floor between us.

"For your treachery, you will receive thirty lashes with the disciplinary whip."

Gasps echoed through the hall. Even Viviana's eyes widened momentarily before she closed them, a single tear tracking down her cheek.

"Take her to the courtyard," Ronan commanded.

---

The night air bit at my exposed skin as they bound me to the whipping post in the center of the pack courtyard. My wrists were secured with silver-infused restraints that burned against my skin, preventing any werewolf healing.

"Alpha, are you certain?" the Pack Enforcer asked, the silver-threaded whip coiled in his hands.

Ronan stood on the balcony above, his expression unreadable. "Proceed."

The first lash came without warning, searing pain across my back as the silver threads bit into my flesh. I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat.

"Ronan!" I cried out, searching for any hint of mercy in his eyes.

His jaw twitched—the only sign of his internal struggle—but he said nothing.

The second lash fell, then the third. Each strike worse than the last, each tearing through skin that could not heal. Blood ran down my legs, pooling at my feet.

"Please," I whispered as the count reached twenty. "It's not true."

By the fifteenth lash, my voice had grown hoarse. By the twentieth, I could no longer form coherent words. My vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges.

"Twenty-nine," the Enforcer counted.

I heard Ronan's sharp intake of breath above me, but still he did not stop this.

The final lash came with devastating force. My body gave out, consciousness slipping away as I sagged against the restraints. The last thing I saw was Ronan's face—impassive, yet something flickered in his eyes as darkness claimed me.