Aurora POV:
Freedom was a brutal thing. It was cold rain, mud sucking at my boots, and a leg that screamed with every step.
I made it three miles. That was it. Three pathetic miles.
I was cutting through the dense forest near the eastern border, thinking I was clever, thinking the rain hid me. But I hadn't accounted for the patrols being doubled because of the upcoming gala.
A twig snapped. Before I could even turn, high-beams cut through the darkness, blinding me. An SUV roared out of the service road, tires spinning in the mud.
"There!" a voice shouted.
I tried to run. I scrambled up a wet embankment, my fingernails digging into the dirt, but my bad leg buckled. I slid back down, landing face-first in the slush.
Strong hands grabbed me. Not gently. They hauled me up like a sack of potatoes.
"Got her," the Beta growled into his radio. "She was trying to cross into Rogue territory."
"Bring her back," Ethan's voice crackled over the comms. It was ice cold. "Now."
The drive back was silent. I sat in the back, shivering, mud caked in my hair, realizing that my escape hadn't just failed—it had doomed me.
They didn't take me to a cell. They took me to a dressing room.
"Stand still," the stylist snapped, yanking the corset tighter. "Alpha Ethan wants you presentable."
I looked at myself in the mirror. I was pale, gaunt, and my eyes were dead. They had dressed me in a long-sleeved gown to hide the burns on my chest and the bruises on my arms. It was a mockery of elegance.
The door opened, and Ethan walked in. He looked dashing in his tuxedo, the very image of a powerful Alpha. But when he looked at me, his eyes were cold.
"You tried to run," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "On the night of Ilene's birthday gala. Do you have any idea how that would look to the investors? The Luna, running away like a rogue?"
"I am not your Luna," I whispered. "I am your prisoner."
"You are my wife," he corrected, adjusting his cufflinks. "And tonight, you will act like it. Ilene has been through enough trauma. We need to show the pack that we are a united front supporting her."
"You want me to celebrate the woman who poisoned me?"
"It was an accident!" Ethan roared, causing the stylist to flinch. He took a deep breath, composing himself. "Tonight is about the pack's stability. Do not embarrass me, Aurora. That is an order."
He didn't use the Alpha Command, but the weight of his authority was heavy enough.
We entered the ballroom. The air was thick with the scents of expensive perfume, champagne, and the musk of high-ranking wolves. Hundreds of eyes turned to us.
Ethan gripped my arm. It looked like a supportive gesture, but his fingers dug into my flesh, a silent warning.
Then, she appeared.
Ilene descended the staircase like a queen. She wore a dress of shimmering silver that hugged every curve. Around her neck, glittering under the chandelier, was a necklace made of moonstones and diamonds.
My breath hitched.
That necklace. It was the 'Tears of the Moon.' It was an heirloom of the Bruce family, traditionally given to the Luna on her first mating anniversary. Ethan had told me it was being repaired for five years.
"Happy Birthday, Ilene!" the crowd cheered.
She beamed, walking straight to us. She ignored me and placed a hand on Ethan's chest.
"Thank you for the gift, Ethan," she purred, fingering the necklace. "It makes me feel so... protected. Like I truly belong here."
"You do belong here," Ethan said softly.
The humiliation burned hotter than the Wolfsbane. The pack members whispered behind their hands. They looked at Ilene with admiration and at me with scorn. To them, I was just the barren, wolf-less placeholder who refused to step aside for the true heroine.
"Oh, Aurora!" Ilene turned to me, her eyes wide and innocent. "I have something for you, too. Since you couldn't get me a gift, I thought I'd give you a memento. To help you... remember."
She handed me a beautifully wrapped box.
My hands trembled as I took it. "I don't want this."
"Open it," Ethan commanded. "She is trying to be kind."
I pulled the ribbon. The lid fell off.
Photos spilled out. Dozens of them. They scattered across the polished floor.
They were high-resolution, graphic photos of the rogue attack five years ago. Ilene bleeding on the ground. Ethan screaming. The gore was vivid.
"No!" Ilene suddenly shrieked, jumping back. "No! Why did you bring those? Why are you showing me those?"
She fell to her knees, clutching her head, hyperventilating. "The blood! Take them away! She's trying to kill me!"
The room went silent. It wasn't just awkward; it was hostile. The glare of the pack burned into my skin.
I stood frozen, the empty box in my hand. "I didn't... you gave this to me..."
"You sick, jealous bitch!"
Ethan didn't just shout. He snarled. The sound was guttural, the sound of a wolf on the brink of violence.
He shoved me aside to get to Ilene. The force of his push sent me stumbling. I tripped over my own gown and fell onto the scattered photos.
The sharp edge of the glossy paper sliced my cheek. A thin line of blood trickled down my face.
"Get them out of her sight!" Ethan bellowed at the warriors. He gathered the sobbing Ilene into his arms.
He turned to me, his eyes glowing amber. "I knew you were weak, Aurora. But I didn't know you were cruel. You did this to trigger her PTSD. You want her to suffer because you envy her."
"Ethan, look at the box," I said, my voice calm amidst the chaos. "It has her handwriting on the tag."
"Enough of your lies!"
He stood up, lifting Ilene. The crowd parted for him. He looked at me with pure disgust.
"You are a stain on this pack," he spat.
He walked away, carrying her.
I sat on the floor, surrounded by the horrific images of the past, blood dripping from my cheek onto my white dress. No one helped me up. They just stared, their judgment heavy and suffocating.
I touched the cut on my face. It stung.
But strangely, my chest didn't hurt anymore. The heart that used to break for him was finally, mercifully, going numb.
