CHAPTER ONE

SOFIA

My fingers dig into the bark of the ancient oak as the Moonridge Pack assembles below. The Alpha's Hunt—a tradition older than memory, where mated pairs prove their unity before the entire pack. My stomach churns, but not from nerves about the hunt itself.

It's Andrew, my mate and Alpha of the Moonridge Pack.

I watch him stride through the crowd with the easy confidence of an Alpha, even if his pack barely commands respect among the greater territories. When I'd first met Andrew Grafton three years ago, that confidence had been intoxicating. Enough to make me walk away from everything I'd once been.

Now it just feels hollow.

For weeks now, he's been different. Distant. His eyes linger on Anne Stonehurst whenever she speaks, and his laughter comes too easily when she's near. Anne—daughter of Alpha Stonehurst, whose Iron Ridge Pack could crush Moonridge without breaking a sweat. Beautiful, connected, everything I apparently aren't anymore.

I tell myself it's nothing, that I'm imagining things, but the signs are impossible to ignore.

"Ready for this?" Andrew's voice cuts through my thoughts. He stands beside me now, but his gaze drifts toward Anne, who's adjusting her boots with deliberate grace.

I force a smile. "Always."

I used to mean it. Once, hunts had been as natural as breathing to me. But that was before I'd learned to hide my true nature, to pretend I was just another pack member instead of what I'd really been.

The pack spreads out in pairs, disappearing into the dense woods. I expect Andrew to take my hand, to flash that grin that once made me abandon everything for him. Instead, he stops and turns to me with calculated distance.

"We should split up," he says. "Cover more ground that way."

The words hit like a slap. In all our hunts together, we've never separated. It's meant to be a display of partnership, of trust between mates. Even in a pack as struggling as Moonridge, traditions matter.

"Split up?" I keep my voice level, but my chest tightens. "Andrew, that's not how—"

"Trust me on this, Sofia. You're capable enough on your own." His tone is dismissive, final. "Meet back at the clearing in two hours."

Before I can respond, he's already walking away—toward Anne's scent trail.

I stand frozen as reality crashes over me. This isn't about hunting strategy. It's a public declaration that I no longer hold the place I once did. That Andrew Grafton's mate is expendable, easily discarded for someone with better connections.

The sting burns deeper than any physical wound, especially knowing what I'd given up to stand by his side.

I force myself to move, my legs mechanical as I head in the opposite direction. My senses sharpen as I follow a deer's trail, muscle memory from years of training threatening to surface before I ruthlessly suppress it.

The forest grows quiet around me, only the sound of my own breathing and the crunch of leaves beneath my feet. I'm truly alone now, abandoned to hunt by myself while somewhere in these woods, Andrew is probably making Anne laugh.

Time passes in a blur of false focus. I follow deer tracks, pretend to care about the hunt, but my mind keeps circling back to the humiliation of being dismissed so casually.

A branch snaps behind me.

I spin, every instinct screaming danger. The wolf that emerges from the brush isn't part of the hunt—it's a rogue, eyes wild with bloodlust and foam flecking its muzzle. Massive. Scarred. Deadly.

My body moves before my mind catches up. Weight shifting, muscles coiling into a stance that could end this in heartbeats. The precise killing strike hovers at the edge of my consciousness—throat, temple, the soft spot behind the ear—and my hands itch with muscle memory.

No. I force myself to stumble backward instead, to look weak and unprepared. The effort makes my jaw ache from clenching so hard.

The rogue lunges.

I dodge clumsily, barely avoiding snapping jaws. Every fiber of my being screams to fight, to move like the weapon I was trained to be. Instead I grab a fallen branch with trembling hands, knowing it's pathetic compared to what I could do.

"Help!" The scream tears from my throat, tasting like copper and shame.

The rogue circles me, sensing easy prey. I swing the branch desperately, my whole body vibrating with the effort of holding back. Of being less than I am.

Voices crash through the underbrush. Andrew's voice cuts through the chaos, but he's not calling my name.

"Anne! Anne, where are you?"

My heart stutters. Even now, even hearing my scream, he's looking for Anne.

The rogue's attention shifts toward the approaching sounds. I use the distraction to strike with the branch, catching it across the snout. The beast retreats with a yelp, but not before its claws rake across my forearm.

Andrew bursts into the clearing with three Moonridge warriors, but his eyes immediately seek out Anne, who emerges from behind a tree with tears streaming down her face.

"Anne!" Andrew rushes to her, pulling her against his chest as she sobs about being terrified. His hands smooth through her hair, his voice the gentle protector I remember from our early days. "You're safe now. I've got you."

The scent hits me then—Anne's floral perfume clinging to Andrew's clothes, like he'd been holding her close during their hunt. My stomach turns.

I stand here bleeding, watching my husband comfort another woman with the tenderness he used to reserve for me. He doesn't even glance my way.

Beta Alex approaches cautiously. "Luna Sofia, are you—"

"I'm fine." I wave him off, my voice steady despite the humiliation burning through my veins.

By the time we reach the main gathering point where the rest of the pack waits, whispers have already started. I can feel eyes on me as I walk beside the warriors, my wounded arm pressed against my side.

Andrew keeps Anne close to his other side, his hand resting protectively on her lower back as he guides her toward the other pack members.

The pack members who witnessed the aftermath exchange meaningful glances. Some look at me with pity, others with the kind of judgment reserved for mates who can't hold their Alpha's attention.

Andrew helps Anne to a fallen log, his voice soft with concern. "Are you sure you're not hurt? That must have been terrifying."

Anne leans into his touch, her voice trembling prettily. "I was so scared when I heard the fighting. Thank goodness you found me."

I stand apart, forgotten, blood still trickling down my arm.

Beta Alex starts toward me again, but Andrew's voice cuts across the clearing. "Sofia." He doesn't move from Anne's side, barely glancing my way. "You handled that well enough. No real damage done, right?"

The casual dismissal hits me like a slap. This is the same man who once promised to shield me from every shadow, who'd held me through nightmares and sworn nothing would ever hurt me while he drew breath.

"Right," I say, my voice steady despite the blood I taste from biting my tongue.

Andrew nods, already turning back to Anne. "Good. You've always been capable of taking care of yourself."

The words hang in the air like a death sentence. I feel something fundamental crack inside my chest—not breaking, but transforming. The woman who'd sacrificed everything for love dies in that moment, and something infinitely harder takes her place.

I look at Andrew, really look at him, and see a stranger wearing my mate's face.

"Yes," I say quietly, the words carrying a weight he's too blind to recognize. "I always have been."