The full moon hung heavy in the night sky, bathing the clearing in silver light as my daughter Riley stood in the center of the ceremonial circle. Her body trembled with anticipation and fear—emotions I remembered all too well from my own Coming-of-Age Ceremony eighteen years ago.
"It's time, Riley," I whispered, squeezing her hand one last time before stepping back. "You'll make your father and me proud."
Riley nodded, her eyes wide with determination. At eighteen, she had inherited Lucas's strong jawline and my dark hair. Tonight, she would shift for the first time, cementing her place as the future Luna of the Silver Moon Pack.
"Begin," Lucas commanded from his Alpha position, his voice carrying across the hushed gathering of pack members.
I watched with bated breath as Riley closed her eyes, her face contorting in pain as her bones began to crack and reshape. The air filled with her gasps and the sickening sound of bones breaking and reforming.
"You're doing wonderfully," I encouraged, my heart aching for her pain but swelling with pride.
Then came the moment—Riley's spine arched impossibly high as her human form began to give way to her wolf. Her scream pierced the night as her skin stretched taut over shifting muscles.
Suddenly, Lucas tensed beside me. "Rogues!" he snarled, his nostrils flaring.
My blood ran cold. "Protect her!" I cried, lunging forward.
But Lucas didn't move. He stood frozen, his eyes calculating as three mangy wolves burst through the tree line, heading straight for Riley.
"Lucas!" I screamed, but he remained rooted to the spot.
The Rogues reached my daughter in seconds. Riley, caught mid-transformation, couldn't defend herself. Her partially shifted form—neither human nor wolf—made her vulnerable in ways no werewolf should ever be.
"Stop them!" I shrieked, throwing myself forward.
By then, it was too late. The Rogues circled Riley, their yellow eyes gleaming with malice as they tore at her flesh. Her screams became desperate whimpers as her body, caught between forms, began to convulse.
When the pack warriors finally drove the Rogues away, Riley lay motionless on the blood-soaked ground, her transformation halted forever.
---
The antiseptic smell of the pack hospital burned my nostrils as I paced outside Riley's room. Hours had passed since the attack, and I hadn't left her side until Lucas insisted I get some rest.
"She's stable," the pack Healer said, his face grim. "But there's something you both need to know."
Lucas and I followed him into Riley's room. My daughter looked so small in the hospital bed, her skin pale and marked with bandages.
"The trauma was too severe," the Healer explained, his voice low. "Her wolf has retreated deep within her. It's dormant."
"What does that mean?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"It means she's Wolfless," Lucas said flatly. "An Omega."
The words hit me like physical blows. Wolfless. Omega. Terms used to describe the weakest members of our society.
"This changes things," Lucas continued, pacing the room. "The Cole Pack alliance—"
"Is that all you can think about?" I interrupted, shocked by his callousness. "Our daughter nearly died!"
Lucas's eyes hardened. "Go rest, Elena. You look terrible. I need to make some calls."
---
Sleep eluded me. How could I rest when my daughter lay broken in a hospital bed? After an hour of tossing and turning, I slipped out of our quarters and made my way back to the hospital wing.
As I approached Riley's room, voices drifted from a private room nearby—Lucas's voice, low and intimate, and another woman's, husky and familiar.
"She's Wolfless now," Lucas was saying. "Just as we planned."
"And the Cole Pack?" The woman—Jessie Meyer—asked.
"Will never accept her now. It's perfect timing. I'll announce Xyla as my heir at the next gathering."
My blood froze in my veins. Xyla—Jessie's daughter. Lucas's...
"You're brilliant," Jessie purred. "Though I almost feel bad for Elena. Eighteen years of devotion, and she never suspected."
"Devotion?" Lucas laughed. "That's what made her so useful. She even donated her kidney for 'the pack's benefit.'"
A soft patting sound came through the door. "Right here," Jessie said. "Your mate's kidney. Funny how she never questioned who really needed it."
The world tilted beneath my feet. My kidney. The surgery that had weakened my wolf for months. The recovery during which Lucas had been unusually attentive.
"She's so weak," Jessie continued. "Too trusting. Too good."
"Elena always was pathetic," Lucas agreed. "But useful. Until now."
Something broke inside me then—not with a crash, but with a silent, deadly click. The mate bond I'd cherished for nearly two decades suddenly felt like chains.
As I pressed my hand against my surgery scar, grief transformed into something colder, harder. Rage.
My wolf, dormant since the surgery, stirred within me for the first time in years.
