I became the perfect Luna.
In the three days after the banquet, I played the role so flawlessly that even I almost believed it. I brought Mason breakfast on a tray—scrambled eggs, toast, coffee exactly how he liked it. I asked about his meetings. I laughed at his jokes. I touched his arm in public, smiled at his side, deferred to his authority in front of the pack.
Every gesture was calculated. Every word a lie wrapped in silk.
Silver snarled constantly now, a low vibration in my chest that never stopped. But I kept her contained. Kept her quiet. We had work to do.
I watched everything.
Mason disappeared for hours at a time, claiming pack business. Border patrols. Warrior training. Supply negotiations. I nodded and told him I understood. Then I noted the times. The patterns. The way his scent changed when he returned—always faintly floral now, always jasmine and vanilla clinging to his collar.
I watched the wolves, too. The way some avoided my gaze. The way others looked at me with something that might have been pity. A young Delta named Marcus stammered when I asked him about eastern perimeter security. His eyes darted toward the training grounds where Selena was running drills.
"The Gamma has it handled, Luna," he said quickly. "She's—she's very thorough."
Thorough. That was one word for it.
I smiled. Thanked him. Moved on.
Selena was everywhere now. In spaces that belonged to me. The Luna's office. The strategy room. Even the private dining hall where pack leadership gathered. Her scent marked doorways, chairs, the corner of Mason's desk. Territorial. Possessive. A she-wolf claiming what she believed was already hers.
I said nothing. Just filed it away with everything else.
On the second day, a young Omega named Lily brought fresh linens to the pack house. She was new, transferred from a smaller pack last month. She didn't know the politics yet. Didn't know to guard her tongue.
She was folding towels in the hallway when I passed. She looked up, startled, and dropped into a clumsy bow.
"Luna! I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you—"
"It's fine," I said gently. "You're doing wonderful work, Lily."
Her face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, Luna. I just want to serve the pack well. Especially with everything changing soon."
I paused. "Changing?"
Her eyes widened. She realized her mistake immediately. "I—I mean—nothing, Luna. I just meant—"
"It's all right," I said softly. I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "You can tell me. I won't be upset."
She hesitated. Then, in a rush: "Some of the warriors have been saying that Gamma Selena will be marked soon. That she'll be the new—" She stopped. Swallowed hard. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"No," I said, keeping my voice warm. Understanding. "I'm glad you told me. It's important that I know what the pack is thinking."
She looked relieved. Grateful. She had no idea she'd just handed me another piece of evidence.
I touched her shoulder. "Keep up the good work, Lily."
She beamed.
I walked away, Silver's growl rising in my throat.
*Future Luna.*
They were already calling her that. Already preparing for the transition. Mason hadn't just betrayed me in private—he'd poisoned the entire pack against me.
That night, Mason came to our bedroom.
I was sitting at the vanity, brushing my hair. He appeared in the mirror behind me, his reflection overlapping mine. For a moment, I saw us as we used to be. Before Boden. Before the title. When he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
Then the scent hit me. Jasmine. Vanilla. Her.
Silver lunged against my ribs.
Mason's hands settled on my shoulders. His touch was warm. Familiar. The mate bond hummed, trying to pull me toward him.
"You've been so good to me these past few days," he murmured. His fingers traced the line of my neck. "I've missed this. Missed you."
I set down the brush. Turned to face him.
His eyes were soft. Affectionate. He actually believed his own performance.
I stood. Let him pull me close. His arms wrapped around my waist. His nose found the hollow of my throat where his mark sat—the bite that was supposed to mean forever.
He inhaled deeply.
I tilted my head, lips brushing his ear.
"I don't smell as sweet anymore, do I?"
His entire body went rigid.
I felt it—the spike of fear. The sudden racing of his pulse. His hands tightened on my waist, not in desire but in panic.
He pulled back just enough to look at my face. His expression was confused. Uncertain. Searching for whether I knew.
I smiled. Soft. Sad. The perfect wounded Luna.
"The healer said my scent might change after the pregnancy," I said quietly. "I hope it doesn't bother you."
Relief flooded his face so fast it was almost comical. He laughed—nervous, too loud.
"Of course not," he said quickly. "You smell perfect. You always do."
Liar.
I turned away, slipping out of his arms. "I'm tired tonight. Is that all right?"
"Of course," he said. But his voice was strained.
I climbed into bed. Felt him slide in behind me. His body pressed against my back. His heart hammered so hard I could feel it through his chest.
He didn't touch me again.
He lay awake all night. I know because I lay awake too, listening to every shift, every breath, every moment of his fear.
Good.
Let him wonder. Let him panic. Let him lie awake trying to figure out if I knew.
Because I did. And I was just getting started.
The next morning, I waited until Mason left for a council meeting. Then I drove to the edge of pack territory, to a small cabin nestled in the woods.
Elder Roland answered on the second knock.
He was older now, his hair more silver than brown, but his eyes were still sharp. He'd served my father for thirty years as Beta. Retired after my father's death. He'd accepted Mason's leadership without protest, the way a good Beta should.
But he'd loved my father. And I was betting he still loved what my father built.
"Luna," he said, surprise flickering across his face. "I wasn't expecting—"
"I need your help," I said quietly.
He studied me for a long moment. Then stepped aside. "Come in."
The cabin was small but tidy. Books lined the walls. A fire crackled in the hearth. I sat at his table and pulled the folded ledgers from my bag.
"I need you to audit these," I said.
He took them slowly. Unfolded the pages. His eyes scanned the columns, the dates, the account numbers.
His expression darkened.
"Where did you get these?" he asked.
"Mason's office."
His gaze snapped to mine. "Macy—"
"I know what you're going to say," I cut him off. "That I'm stressed. That new mothers sometimes imagine things. That the pregnancy was hard on me and maybe I'm not thinking clearly."
He closed his mouth.
"Look at the numbers," I said. "Tell me I'm imagining them."
He looked down. Studied the ledgers in silence. Minutes passed. The fire popped and hissed.
Finally, he spoke. "These accounts don't match pack records."
"I know."
"Funds are being diverted. Significant amounts."
"I know."
"If this is real—" He stopped. Looked at me with something close to fear. "Macy, if this is real, it's treason."
"I know," I said again. "That's why I need you."
He set the ledgers down. Rubbed his face with both hands.
"You're asking me to investigate your mate. The Alpha."
"I'm asking you to protect Silvercrest," I said. "The way you protected it for my father."
Silence.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
"I'll need time," he said. "Access to the full financial records. Quietly."
"You'll have it."
He looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time since I'd arrived. Not as the Alpha's sheltered daughter. Not as the recovering Luna.
As something else.
"You've changed," he said softly.
"Yes," I said. "I have."
I stood. Gathered the ledgers. Turned to leave.
"Macy."
I looked back.
"Your father would be proud."
Something cracked in my chest. Just for a second. Then I smoothed it over. Buried it.
"Thank you, Roland."
I drove back to the pack house. Smiled at the wolves I passed. Played the perfect Luna.
And inside, Silver and I began to plan.
