C3

Lady Genevieve Whitlock’s voice cuts right through the door, sharp and unforgiving. “I don’t know when her wolf will wake up. We can’t drag her to the Temple of the Sacred Moon Bond looking like a sick pup.”

I stay perfectly still on the giant mattress, but I crack my eyes just the tiniest bit, scanning the room. It’s a huge suite inside Bloodmoon Sanctuary Lodge. Genevieve definitely paid for it with my share of the Moonfang Treasury. I don’t dare move or talk my head’s pounding from the silver juice the pack doctor gave me, all to keep me from shifting during the flight here.

Tristan Whitlock’s voice booms through the phone. “Can’t we just give some gold to the elder at the temple?”

Genevieve snaps, “And get thrown into the Council Judgment Hall?”

“We have to hurry. Only six moons left before the prophecy,” Tristan pushes.

“I know! You should’ve mated her when I told you!” Genevieve lets out a furious wolf growl. “Is it really so hard to nuzzle her neck and make her love you? She doesn’t see any other young Alphas!”

Honestly, she’s right about that. Ever since my parents died, Genevieve and Tristan have kept me locked away from every Alpha Noble. They don’t want anyone sniffing me or realizing I’m the Lost Luna Heiress. No pack sisters, no friends. The only wolf I ever chatted with online was Santiago Cole, back when I studied cave paintings. That friendship didn’t last long.

Our old territory has laws straight out of nightmares. Until a female wolf completes the Fatebound Mating Rite or hits thirty winters, she can’t touch her family’s wealth. Genevieve has controlled the whole Alpha Bloodline Legacy since I turned eight.

She used to pretend to be nice. Every week she reminded me Tristan “saved” me from the forest fire twenty-two years ago. I hated that story. Tristan’s a coward; he never helps anyone unless there’s gold in it, and he was just a pup himself back then.

I learned the truth before my thirteenth birthday. Listening from the shadows, I heard them plotting. They were angry I didn’t love Tristan or believe his stories, so they planned to fake a rogue wolf attack. Tristan would “save” me, I’d accept his mate bond after my first shift, and just like that, my family legacy would be theirs forever.

Of course, I blew up at them. I was young, angry, and loud. After that, Genevieve started putting silver powder in my meat so I’d grow weak.

She lives like a queen using my resources, then struts to the Moonfang Alpha Council telling everyone how she’s protecting young orphan paws. Her real dream? Ruling the Lunar Dominion Network, since Grandfather never let her run the pack boats. If she cared about me at all, she would’ve given me my alpha rights when I turned twenty-one.

Tristan yells, “I tried, but she acts like she hates male wolves!”

I don’t hate them. Just him. I’d run wild with rogues before letting his teeth anywhere near me.

“She’s too dumb to notice when a male wolf wants her!” Tristan barks. “She won’t believe anything I say.”

“What’s she heard?”

“The stuff about the fake kidnapping!”

He can’t fool me. He always reeks of fear and trickery. He could howl to the moon and grovel, and I still wouldn’t trust his scent.

Seraphina Vale makes it all worse. She and Tristan act like they’re just pack friends, but she can't keep the secret and flashes the fur cloaks and silver rings he buys her with my money.

Her face always burns red when I tell her, “You took those from my treasury. I feed you, Seraphina. I don’t want your scrawny wolf near me I like my pack mates smart and clean.”

Watching her get mad feels pretty good, but she never dares to hit me; Tristan wouldn’t like that. She once whispered that Tristan wanted the Moonbond Covenant just to toss me into wild territory and run the pack with her. She wanted me to cry. Jokes on her my heart died the moment I heard them planning to hunt me.

Power brings out the worst in people. Sixty billion gold coins can make a wolf forget the moon.

“You should’ve just forced the teeth mark and given her pups!” Genevieve snarls.

My stomach flips. She wants me to stay with a wolf who’d bite me by force? What kind of pack is this?

“I tried, but she carries that sharp bone knife everywhere!” Tristan says.

Last time he got close, I slashed his throat and drew blood. When he lunged, I pressed the blade to my own throat. They won’t risk me dying not while my money is up for grabs.

“But she’s asleep now. I could bite her neck right now,” Tristan says.

Fear jolts through me. My muscles tense. Genevieve probably took my bone knife while I was out. I need a weapon. Is there anything sharp or heavy in this room?

“No,” Genevieve replies with a sigh. “The Temple opens at midnight. I’ll go talk to the elders. Find a way to make her sign the Blood Oath Accord.”

Tristan mutters, “The old Alpha shouldn’t have given all the gold to the poor packs if she dies.”

“Shut up! Someone will hear you!” Genevieve hisses.

“Like who?”

Like me, I think, right as the door opens and my aunt stalks toward my bed.

“A big moon-diamond might make her happy,” Genevieve says. “Something bright.”

She thinks I have no taste just because I act crazy to survive. I never inherited my mother’s talent for painting ancient packs. Genevieve always says, “Susan wasted six years trying to teach you how to paint wild woods. She should have stayed in the pack lodge instead of dragging you to old caves.”

For her, everything’s about gold. My mother just wanted to make good memories and shield me from the pack’s cruel laws. She didn’t come back to the pack house until Grandfather changed the will to protect my wolf.

Tristan whines, “Why buy a new one? I already gave her the engagement collar!”

I slide my left hand over and feel a heavy band around my wrist silver. It wasn’t there before. Oh no. Did they lock the engagement collar on me while I was drugged with silver juice?

Genevieve says, “Just do what I say. Get her sweet berries. No girl wolf can say no to that.”

She doesn’t know me. I never eat their food. I filch meat from the lodge kitchen and throw wild parties I never actually join. Acting wild keeps me safe. Most wolves just see me as a rich, crazy pup with too much gold and no alpha.

I spend my free time painting wild woods the gift my mother left me. Whenever I finish a skin painting, Genevieve snatches it and hands me a blank one again, telling me it’ll “calm my angry wolf.” She doesn’t realize I’m smarter than she thinks. I never act wild enough to land in the pack clinic.

The bed shifts. Cold fingers press against my forehead. Genevieve’s voice comes out near my ear, angry and low, “Why can’t you just believe Rupert saved you from the fire? Tristan’s a strong Alpha. You should want his mark.” She sounds almost disgusted that I refuse to submit.

The mattress lifts, and the heavy door slams shut. I count to ten and sit up. My bare feet meet the icy floor. Genevieve never lets me wear boots so I can’t bolt into the forest. I grab a sealed river water bottle, leaving the pitcher untouched. I trust nothing open.

The mirror shows a girl in a thick white lace gown, covering my back and arms. Not out of kindness—but to hide the huge burn scar on my shoulder. It’s as big as my palm. I don’t remember the fire. You’d think something that big would stick with me, but my mind is blank.

Genevieve claims Tristan carried my small wolf out of the burning trees, saved me from the flames, and didn’t get a scratch. She says I slept with a fever for a week in the clinic. I bet they panicked, afraid I’d die and take the Moonfang Treasury with me.

I stare at the heavy silver collar on the table, and then spot a tiny window. It opens straight into the dark forest below.