LOGINCORALINA'S POV
After a long time, I sleep without being haunted by dreams.
I wake up to silence. The bedroom is filled with bright sunlight, and I realise with surprise that I've slept for almost twelve hours straight.
Ignoring the pending messages and calls, I roll out of bed and step in for a shower. I'm making coffee and scrambled eggs for breakfast when my phone screen lights up again.
It’s the ‘family’ group chat, with Maximus, Brielle and me– their third wheel.
Brielle’s message glows there, posted an hour ago.
[Good morning, all! What a beautiful day! I’m craving those delicate lavender shortbread cookies with edible silver leaf. And maybe a truffle omelette, while they bake! Remember, Coralina, I’m allergic to bell peppers! Xoxo]
Then another one from a few minutes ago.
[Is it going to take long? I'm feeling peckish.]
I stare at the screen in disbelief.
But then again, I let it happen for so long…
I remember, I spent weeks testing that cookie recipe, just for Maximus. I used to leave them in his office like a secret gift, along with his afternoon tea. He never said a word, but the tray always came back empty.
I thought he liked them, until I stumbled on Brielle's I*******m.
She had posted a photo of my cookies on a plate by her bed.
[He brought me my favorite treats! It's an honor to be loved by someone who knows me so well.]
He hadn’t eaten a single one… he had taken the whole tray to her.
Eventually, they became more and more shameless. First, she wanted an extra share of the herbal tea to soothe her stomach, and this drama ended up with a formal, bulleted list in a newly formed group chat: Daily nutritional requirements for Brielle, which read like a corporate memo.
Quail eggs, specific heirloom tomatoes, imported sea salt. Bell peppers, of course, were strictly prohibited.
I refused immediately, of course.
[My responsibilities as Luna do not extend to personal chef duties. The pack employs excellent culinary staff, Miss. Brielle, please share this list with them.]
Within seconds, she had replied to the group chat.
[Luna, I can understand. It’s fine, Maximus, really. I’m just… I’m not worthy of such consideration.]
Maximus stormed over in minutes, his Alpha scent heavy and aggressive.
“Apologize to Brielle! She’s dying, Coralina. Stop being a bitch and show some compassion.”
I tried to explain how disrespectful it was, considering our ranks, even though it shouldn't have been necessary. But I was the one who got lectured in return.
“Your tone is disrespectful. Your lack of compassion is disgraceful, especially considering your rank as Luna!”
He hadn’t listened, he never did. The truth was irrelevant next to the comfort of his first love.
From then on, even if my schedule was jam packed with meetings, my workday was perpetually interrupted at 3PM.
If the tray of food was late, the weeping would begin, and I would be confronted with Maximus’s disapproval and anger through the mind-link. “You’re trying to starve her.”
Every time, I was reminded of how petty I was, how cruel for not following her instructions perfectly. But I didn’t apologize then, and I’m definitely not doing it now.
I pick up my phone and type a reply directly into the group chat.
[You were right back then, you really aren’t worthy of my food or my consideration. Get it yourself.]
I hit send and immediately leave the group.
As expected, my phone rings within minutes. I answer, but I don't say a word.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
He snarls. “Brielle is in tears. She fainted after reading that. Do you have any idea what that could do to her condition? Do you want her blood on your hands?”
There is no point to arguing.
And so, I hang up and block him.
The action which I thought would shatter me from inside out, feels nothing more than a simple tap now.
I grab the suitcase I packed last night. I take my passport, my tablet, and the clothes I bought with my own money. I leave the designer gowns and the jewelry Maximus bought to introduce me as his Luna.
They can stay in the closet, meant for his true Luna.
When I stand up and reach for my bag, a sharp pain stabs through my abdomen. I lean against the wall, my vision going blurry.
No matter how strong I'm trying to be, my body hasn't recovered well enough to co-operate with the pace.
At the hospital, the nurse quietly checks my stitches.
“You’re healing physically, but you can't rush the recovery. Give yourself some time and rest, Luna.”
I nod obediently, although I have no intentions of stopping or resting any time soon.
I go to the front desk to settle the bill, and slide the platinum card Maximus gave me across the counter.
“I’m sorry, Luna.”
The clerk says, looking embarrassed. “This card has been flagged. It won't go through.”
At that exact moment, his voice booms in my head through our mind-link.
“Dare to block me again, and see what happens! Stop this tantrum, Coralina. As long as you refuse to apologize to Brielle, you won’t get a single cent. You better learn your place, and quickly.”
I snap out of the dizziness, feeling like hot anger is flowing in my veins.
Does he really think that I'm at his mercy?
With huffing breaths, I pull up contact for Elias Thorn, a lawyer who handles inter-pack commercial disputes.
I type quickly.
[Coralina here. I need your counsel regarding unpaid wages for five years of corporate and strategic work for Silver Lake Holdings.]
The reply is almost instant.
[Luna Coralina, under the Unified Pack Law, a Luna’s labor is considered conjoined with the Alpha’s. It’s a spousal duty, not employment. To sue for wages, you’d first need to legally sever the Luna bond.]
It’s a catch-22. I can't reject Maximus, being of a lower rank than him. If I do, I might lose my life.
And I can't depend on Maximus to agree for the divorce so that I can sue him back.
I clench the phone, feeling my frustration rising.
The trap is cruel. My work built his empire, and the law they wrote says I was just being a wife.
I have to sort this out. But first, the hospital bills need to be settled.
I look down at the five-carat diamond on my left hand, and something clicks.
I ask the receptionist for some time, and walk straight into a pawn shop three blocks from the hospital.
“How much?”
I ask the man behind the glass.
He names a price that’s barely a third of what it’s worth, especially since it's a custom designer piece.
But I don't bother enough to haggle.
It's just a piece of stone, after all. I take the cash, pay the hospital bill, and tuck the rest of the bills into my pocket.
This is my only safety net for now.
I hail a cab.
“Where to?”
“The border crossing at Westgate.”
The cab rolls to a stop at the massive iron gates of the Silver Lake territory. Two guards, betas I recognize from the security rotation, approach for routine inspection.
Their expressions are polite, but look confused when they see me in the back seat.
“Luna? We need a clearance code from the Alpha for you to pass.”
I don't say a word to explain myself.
I just hold up my phone and show him the single-time-use access code that Clyde sent last night, sealed by a black crest: a mountain peak under a silver moon.
The guard’s face goes pale. He scans it with his own device, and it chimes as the gate unlocks.
He steps back, his eyes full of fear.
“Clear passage. Safe travels… Luna Coralina.”
The gates swing open.
The manor is ten minutes outside the border, nestled in the dark pines that belong to no pack, a neutral zone.
It is elegant and formidable, built of dark stone. Above the monumental doors hangs the Nightfall Crest: a mountain peak under a sliver of moon.
It belongs to the boy whom the previous Luna– Maximus' grandmother– threw to the rogues, hoping the wolves would pick his bones clean so that her own bloodline would stay on the throne.
She assumed he would die before his own wolf could even manifest. Instead, Clyde tamed the monsters, turning a pack of rabid rogues into an army of warriors. He rose as the most powerful Alpha on the continent, annexing all Northern territories until the family had no choice but to 'welcome' him back to save the skin on their own backs.
Alpha Clyde…
My heart gives a thud.
I take the first step towards the front gate, knowing that I am stepping into dangerous territory, where I'll have to keep my guards high at all times.
But for now, it is my only option.
I cross the threshold.
BRIELLE'S POVThe candlelight flickers against the crystal flutes, casting long, elegant shadows across the table. I adjust the lace of my obsidian-black lingerie, ensuring the silk robe hangs just open enough to be a promise rather than a display. Perfection is a chore, but for a woman like me, it is a mandatory one.I’ve been waiting for three hours. The vintage Bordeaux I opened at eleven is now breathing a bit too deeply, much like my patience. For the last two days… ever since that wretched Solaris launch gala, Maximus has been a ghost. Oh, he’s physically present, but his eyes are vacant, filled with a haunting sort of longing that makes my skin crawl. It’s as if he’s lost something precious, something he only just realized had value.I know that look. It’s the look of a man grieving a shadow."Is the duck l'orange ready?" I call out, my voice smooth and melodic. I don't raise it; a future Luna doesn't screech at the help."Yes, Miss Brielle," the cook murmurs from the kitchen.
MAXIMUS' POVI shove the heavy doors of the boardroom open, the hollow chatter of my directors trailing off behind me. I didn't care about their quarterly projections or the dwindling morale in the barracks. Every room I entered felt too small lately, the air thick with the invisible presence of a woman who was no longer there to steady my world.I slumped into my leather chair and pulled up my private server. My fingers acted on muscle memory, bypassing the unread, frantic messages from Brielle. She had sent twelve in the last hour—complaints about the thread count of the new linens, followed by her usual, manipulative tag: “I know it’s a lot to ask, Max, but since I don’t know how many mornings I have left, please just do this for me.”The mention of her "last wish" usually triggered a wave of guilt that paralyzed my ability to say no, but today, it just made my teeth ache.I scrolled down, deep into the archives, until I reached the thread from C. Philip. I opened an old email f
CORALINA'S POV The morning air in the Alpha’s study is cool and smells of old leather, parchment, and the lingering, sharp scent of Clyde’s sandalwood. I haven't slept more than four hours, my mind still buzzing with the lines of code I laid into the Aegis-Locate honeypot, but I cannot remain in that bed once the sun is up. The mattress is slightly sunken in the place where Maximus has left vacant, and the white sheets seem to be asking a question I’m not ready to answer yet. Instead, I have retreated to the study, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling shelves of the Archives. My fingers trace the spines of heavy, cloth-bound ledgers. If I am to be the Luna of this pack, even if it is a role only in name, I need to understand the bedrock I’m standing on. “The histories of the Far South are not easily digested on an empty stomach, Luna.” I jump, nearly dropping a thick volume on the Treaties of the Frost Era. Mr. Henderson, the head butler, stands in the doorway. Unlike Thomas, who is a
CORALINA'S POV The glowing red text on the dead screen—[PROTOCOL 9-B]—feels like a physical slap. I sit back in the plush leather chair of the study, my breath hitching as the silence of the Nightshade manor settles around me. I stare at the black mirror of the laptop, wait for a flicker, a glitch, anything to suggest I can still find a way in.Nothing.The realization hits me with the weight of an iron vault: my backdoor into the Silver Azure main server hasn't just been locked; it’s been scorched. I’ve spent years building those digital corridors, weaving my own administrative signature into the very fabric of the pack's infrastructure so I could move like a ghost. But someone—someone smarter than the Maximus I remember—has systematically purged every trace of my influence.Maximus isn’t just a brute anymore. He’s become digitally literate, or worse, he’s become paranoid enough to hire someone who is. He’s looking for me. He’s waiting for the "dead" Luna to come knocking on the vir
CORALINA'S POV The sun hasn't quite crested the horizon when I wake, but the room is already filled with a sharp, pre-dawn grey. I reach out instinctively, my hand brushing against the silk pillowcase beside mine.It’s cold.I shift, my eyes tracing the shallow indentation in the fabric where Clyde’s head rested. He was here. For a few hours, the Shadow Alpha was a steady, rhythmic breath in the dark, a heat source that made the vastness of this suite feel a little less like a gilded cage. Now, there is only the lingering, faint scent of sandalwood and the unsettling silence of an empty room.A strange, hollow disappointment settles in the pit of my stomach. It’s a ridiculous sensation—one I immediately crush with the weight of cold logic. We are business partners. We are signatories to a high-stakes merger. I shouldn't be looking for the warmth of a man who views our marriage as a tactical maneuver. I sit up, the satin of my pajamas whispering against the sheets, and force myself to
CORALINA'S POV The iron gates of Nightshade Manor hiss shut behind us, a final, metallic exclamation point at the end of a day that has felt like a century. The drive from the registry office was conducted in a silence so crystalline I was afraid to breathe too loudly, lest I shatter the fragile truce between my public triumph and my private exhaustion.Clyde doesn't speak as we enter the foyer. He doesn't offer a hand or a "well done." He simply inclines his head toward the grand staircase, his shadow stretching long and predatory across the marble floor. I take the cue, my heels clicking a weary rhythm as I ascend to the wing that is now, legally, mine.The moment the heavy mahogany door of my suite clicks shut, the mask crumbles.I reach for the hidden zipper of the midnight-navy gown—this steel-stiff silk that has acted as my armor all day. It’s a struggle; the fabric is unyielding, much like the man who chose it. When I finally step out of it, the dress doesn't fall; it stands o







