CH. 1

"Smile, Luna." Damon's voice was honey-sweet for their audience while his fingers dug into her waist hard enough to bruise.

"Remember what happens if you embarrass me tonight."

Crystal chandeliers cast dancing shadows across the grand ballroom of Treuman Estate as hundreds of elegantly dressed wolves mingled beneath them, their laughter creating a symphony of false civility.

Luna stood at the entrance in a silver gown, her hand resting lightly on Damon's arm as cameras flashed.

She smiled. She always smiled.

"Alpha Treuman! Princess Luna Ashford!" A reporter from the Lycan Chronicle pushed forward. "How does it feel to be hosting the largest charity gala in the Northern Territories?"

Damon's hand slid around Luna's waist, pulling her closer. To anyone watching, they were the perfect couple: the ambitious Alpha and his royal-blooded mate.

"Luna has worked tirelessly on tonight's event." His gray eyes were cold despite his warm tone. "She's dedicated to serving our pack."

The reporter turned to Luna expectantly and she felt Damon's fingers dig into her ribs in warning.

"It's an honor." Luna kept her voice steady despite the pain. "The Lunar Children's Fund is close to my heart."

Unlike me. Unlike what I've become.

"And the rumors about Alpha Treuman's Council candidacy?"

Damon's smile widened, but his grip tightened until Luna could barely breathe.

"All will be revealed tonight. Now, if you'll excuse us." He steered her away from the cameras, his pleasant expression never faltering. But as soon as they were behind a marble column, his mask dropped.

"You hesitated." The words came out soft yet dangerous. "That pause before you spoke."

"I'm sorry, I..."

"Sorry?" Damon's laugh was quiet and lethal. "You'll be sorry if you ruin this night for me, Luna! Three years I've tolerated your pathetic excuse for a wolf, your broken..."

"My bloodline isn't broken!" Luna retorted on a whim.

Damon's hand shot out, gripping her chin with bruising force.

His gray eyes looked dead and merciless. "Your bloodline is the only thing keeping you alive."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "The Ashford name, your father's legacy, your brothers' connections. That's all you are to me. A key to the Council."

He released her with a shove.

"Tonight, you'll play your part perfectly, or I'll make you regret the day you were born!"

Footsteps sounded nearby and Damon's expression transformed instantly into one of concern.

"Darling, are you alright? You look pale." His voice carried perfectly to the guests rounding the corner. "Maybe you should rest."

Lady Helena Thorne appeared with her entourage.

"Princess Ashford! The ballroom is absolutely stunning."

Luna forced another smile, ignoring the throbbing in her jaw.

"Thank you, Lady Thorne."

"Everyone's here tonight. All the major packs, half the Council." Helena leaned in conspiratorially. "I hear there's to be a major announcement?"

Damon's hand found the small of Luna's back. Affectionate to observers, agonizing to her.

"You'll have to wait and see, Lady Thorne."

Helena giggled knowingly. “You’re never one to disappoint, Mr. Treuman. Well, I’m eager to know the details soon.” She winked.

With that, Helena sashay away with her entourage.

Luna caught sight of herself in one of the ballroom's massive mirrors.

The woman staring back was a stranger.

Perfectly styled dark hair. Flawless makeup hiding the shadows under her eyes. A designer gown concealing the bruises that mapped her body like a constellation of abuse.

Luna Ashford. Lunar Princess. Daughter of the late Alpha King Theron and Queen Selene. Sister to four powerful Alphas.

Prisoner.

Her wolf stirred weakly in the back of her mind, a shadow of what she once was. Three years ago, she'd been strong, vibrant, ready to take on the world.

Now she was barely a whisper.

Suppressed by the "vitamins" Damon insisted she take daily. Weakened by constant psychological torture. Broken by the realization that no one was coming to save them.

"Luna!"

She turned to see Helen Pierce gliding toward them, resplendent in a red gown that clung to her curves.

Her foster sister. Taken in by the Ashford family when her parents died fifteen years ago. Raised as one of them, loved as a sister, trusted with their secrets.

The woman who was sleeping with her mate.

"Helen." Luna's voice remained steady despite the blade of betrayal twisting deeper. "You look radiant."

"Not nearly as radiant as you, dear sister."

Helen leaned in for air kisses.

The cloying sweetness of jasmine and vanilla hit Luna like.

Damon's favorite scent.

"This gala is absolutely magnificent." Helen's crimson lips curved into what might have been admiration, if one didn't know better.

"You've truly outdone yourself, sister. You always did have a flair for spectacle."

Damon's hand slid from Luna's back to Helen's arm.

The gesture was subtle but unmistakable.

"Luna has been invaluable in the planning process. I don't know what we'd do without her support,” he drawled.

We. As if they were the couple, and Luna was the interloper.

"I just want to help however I can."

"You work too hard, sister." Helen's green eyes met Luna's with false sympathy. "Especially with you being so delicate lately."

Luna's fingers clenched in the folds of her gown.

Delicate. As if her weakness was inherent, not manufactured by the poison Damon fed her daily.

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are, darling." Damon's voice dripped with false concern. "But Helen's right. Maybe after tonight's announcement, we should consider that rest cure Dr. Mevon suggested."

Luna's blood ran cold.

Dr. Mevon. The pack therapist Damon had brought in two years ago.

The one who'd been documenting her "deteriorating mental state" in forced sessions.

The one who'd suggested, in front of half the pack's leadership, that she was struggling with the pressures of being an Alpha's mate.

Building a case.

"I don't need a rest cure."

"What you need is to trust your mate!" Damon's tone hardened. "Now smile. Councilman Aldrich is coming over."

-

For the next two hours, Luna played her part.

She smiled until her face ached. Made small talk with pack leaders and Council members. Accepted compliments on the decorations, the catering, the orchestra.

She pretended not to notice when Damon and Helen disappeared together for twenty minutes, returning with her lipstick smudged and his tie askew.

She was the perfect Luna.

The perfect prisoner.

At exactly nine o'clock, Damon took the stage.

The orchestra fell silent as hundreds of wolves turned their attention to the man who'd spent three years destroying Luna while building his political empire.

"Distinguished guests, pack leaders, Council members." Damon's voice carried effortlessly. "Thank you for joining us tonight. The Lunar Children's Fund has raised over two million dollars for wolves in need."

Applause erupted.

Luna stood at the side of the stage, hands clasped, smile fixed.

"But tonight isn't just about charity." Damon continued. "Tonight, I'm announcing my candidacy for the Northern Council."

More applause followed.

"For too long, our territories have been divided, our packs weakened by outdated traditions. It's time for new leadership. Strong leadership."

Luna watched the crowd, seeing the calculation in their eyes.

Damon was young for a Council candidate. Only thirty-two. But he was ruthless, connected, and now mated to a royal bloodline.

The Ashford name carried weight.

Even if the Ashford daughter carrying it was broken.

"My mate, Princess Luna Ashford, has been my greatest supporter." Damon extended his hand toward her. "Luna, join me."

Luna moved forward on autopilot, taking his hand as cameras flashed.

Damon’s grip was crushing, a reminder of what would happen if she failed him now.

"Luna comes from one of the most prestigious bloodlines in our history." He pulled her close.

"Her father, the late Alpha King Theron, was a visionary leader. Her brothers continue that legacy today. And Luna herself embodies the grace, strength, and dedication that our territories need in leadership."

 Lies. All lies.

But the crowd ate it up.

Damon pressed a kiss to her temple that looked loving but allowed him to whisper: "Don't you dare cry. Don't you dare show weakness. Smile, or I'll make you regret it!"

So Luna smiled as the rest of the announcement blurred together.

Damon's vision for the Council, his promises of unity and strength, his carefully crafted image of a modern Alpha ready to lead.

Through it all, Luna stood beside him, the perfect accessory, the royal bloodline that legitimized his ambition.

When it was finally over, when Damon released her to accept congratulations, she slipped away.

She needed air. She needed to remember how to breathe without his hand around her throat.