I didn't sleep after that night in the corridor. How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Drake's voice—clinical, detached, describing me like a chess piece positioned to absorb damage.
For three days, I moved through the pack house like I was underwater. I smiled when required. I attended pack meals. I performed the role of Luna with mechanical precision while my mind cataloged every exit, every ally, every resource I'd need when the time came.
But I wasn't fast enough.
The summons came on the fourth morning. A formal blood punishment tribunal. Sylvia's voice echoed through the pack house mind-link with that unhurried authority that made even high-ranking Deltas straighten their spines. "All pack members to the courtyard. Immediately."
My wolf stirred uneasily as I descended the stairs. The courtyard was already filling—warriors forming a loose circle, pack members gathering at the edges with the particular stillness that comes before violence. The enforcers stood in the center, their expressions carefully blank.
Sylvia waited on the raised platform, Drake beside her. Celine stood slightly behind them both, one hand resting delicately against her collarbone. She looked worried. Perfectly, practiced worry.
I took my place at the edge of the circle and tried to breathe normally.
"A serious breach has occurred," Sylvia announced. Her voice carried easily across the courtyard. "Three nights ago, a patrol route was left unsecured. Rogue wolves crossed our border undetected. They were apprehended before damage occurred, but the negligence cannot stand."
Murmurs rippled through the assembled wolves. Border security was sacred. Whoever had failed this badly would face consequences that left scars.
"The evidence clearly identifies the wolf responsible," Sylvia continued. She didn't look at Celine, but something in her tone made my stomach drop. "The patrol assignment records are unambiguous."
Celine's eyes widened. That breathless, vulnerable expression she wore so well. "I... I can explain. There was confusion about the rotation schedule. I thought—"
"Silence." Sylvia's command cut through the courtyard like a blade. "Blood punishment will be administered."
The enforcers shifted, awaiting designation. I watched Celine's face—the slight tremor in her lower lip, the way her fingers pressed harder against her collarbone. She was performing distress, but beneath it I caught something else. A flicker of calculation. She was looking at Drake.
And Drake was looking at me.
"Aria." His voice carried that Alpha authority that made my bones ache. "Step forward."
I didn't move. Couldn't move. My wolf was suddenly howling inside my chest, clawing at my ribs. "Drake, I wasn't on patrol that night. I wasn't even—"
"Step. Forward." The Alpha tone slammed into me like a physical blow.
My legs obeyed before my will could resist. I felt my body moving toward the center of the circle, my muscles responding to his command while my mind screamed in protest. The mate bond amplified it, made resistance impossible. I was halfway across the courtyard before I even processed what was happening.
"Drake, please." My voice came out smaller than I intended. "This isn't—"
"The Luna will take the punishment." He said it like he was discussing supply logistics. Clinical. Detached. The same tone he'd used in his study when he told Eric I was a living decoy. "She accepts responsibility for all pack security failures."
Lies. All lies. But the pack members watching didn't know that. They saw their Alpha making a decision. They saw their Luna stepping forward. They assumed I'd agreed to this.
Celine's hand dropped from her collarbone. Her eyes met mine for just a moment, and there—finally—I saw it. Not gratitude. Not even guilt. Just cold satisfaction.
She'd won again. And Drake had given her the victory.
"Shift," Sylvia commanded.
I wanted to refuse. I wanted to scream, to run, to do anything except obey. But the Alpha tone was still wrapped around my throat, and my wolf—my beautiful, rare, stupid wolf—still reached toward Drake's scent even now. Still trusted the bond that was killing us.
I shifted.
My silver coat caught the morning light as it always did, that luminous aura that had drawn unmated males from miles away when I first awakened. The pack members at the edges of the circle went very still. Some of them looked away.
The first blow landed across my shoulders. I heard the enforcer's apology in the mind-link—quiet, miserable—but his hand didn't hesitate. The second blow came harder. Then the third.
I lost count after that.
Pain became the only thing I knew. It radiated through my wolf form in waves that left me gasping. My legs buckled. I felt my luminous aura flickering, dimming with each strike like a candle guttering in the wind.
Through the haze, I saw Celine. She was still standing beside Sylvia, one hand pressed to her mouth now. Her eyes were wide. Concerned. Perfect.
And Drake—Drake watched with that same neutral expression he wore when reviewing territory maps.
When the enforcers finally stepped back, I couldn't stand. My silver coat was matted with blood, and the aura that had once made me extraordinary was barely visible. Just a faint shimmer beneath damaged fur.
Someone—a young Delta whose name I couldn't remember—helped me shift back to human form. They draped a blanket over my shoulders. I heard footsteps retreating, the crowd dispersing now that the spectacle was over.
I stayed on my knees in the center of the courtyard, staring at the ground.
My wolf had gone silent. Not howling anymore. Not reaching toward Drake's scent. Just... silent.
For three days after, I couldn't shift at all. My wolf refused to surface. And when I finally tried to reach for her, to coax her back, I felt only emptiness where her presence used to be.
Something inside me had broken. Something that might never heal.
But in that brokenness, a strange clarity emerged.
I didn't love Drake anymore.
I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it died—maybe when the first blow landed, maybe when I saw his face watching without flinching, maybe it had been dying slowly since that night in the corridor.
But it was gone now. Completely. And in its place was something colder, sharper, and infinitely more dangerous.
I began to plan in earnest.
