LOGINI wore gray. Simple. Forgettable.
The dress was old, borrowed from the servant quarters' communal closet where omegas kept clothes for formal occasions we were required to attend but never truly belonged at. It hung loose on my frame, the fabric worn soft from too many washings, the color designed to blend into shadows.
To disappear.
That was what I wanted. To stand in the back of the pack hall and become invisible again, the way I had always been invisible. Before Adrian. Before the bond. Before hope had crept into my chest and made me believe I could be something more.
Bianca wore white.
Of course she did.
I saw her from across the garden as the pack began gathering, her dress catching the last rays of sunlight like it was woven from starlight itself. It clung to her curves, elegant and perfect, with delicate beading that sparkled with every movement. Her hair fell in golden waves down her back, and someone had woven tiny white flowers into the strands.
She looked like a Luna.
She looked like everything I would never be.
I pressed myself against the wall of the servants' entrance, watching as pack members streamed past me toward the great hall. They were excited, buzzing with anticipation. Everyone knew what tonight was. The Alpha heir claiming his mate. The future of the pack being secured.
A celebration.
For everyone except me.
"Move, omega."
I jerked aside as a group of Beta wolves pushed past, not even glancing at me. To them, I was just another piece of furniture. Another obstacle to step around on their way to something important.
The pack hall glittered with wealth and power when I finally forced myself to enter. Candles burned in iron sconces along the stone walls, their light dancing across tapestries that depicted the pack's history—great battles, legendary Alphas, moments of triumph. The ceiling soared high overhead, wooden beams dark with age and carved with symbols of strength and loyalty.
Laughter echoed off the walls as wolves greeted one another. I recognized faces—pack members I had served meals to, cleaned up after, bowed my head to a thousand times. None of them looked at me now.
I was invisible again.
Exactly as planned.
I stayed near the back, pressed into a corner where the shadows were deepest. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought everyone must hear it. My wolf paced restlessly inside my chest, whining and anxious.
She knew what was coming.
We both did.
The hall continued to fill. Elders in formal robes took their seats at the front, their faces stern and ancient. Warriors stood along the walls, their presence a reminder of the pack's strength. Young wolves whispered and giggled, excited for the spectacle.
And at the center of it all, on a raised platform decorated with silver and white flowers, stood two empty chairs.
One for the Alpha heir.
One for his mate.
I felt Adrian before I saw him.
The bond, weak as it was, still pulsed with awareness when he entered the hall. My head snapped toward the entrance without my permission, drawn to him like metal to a magnet.
He stood in the doorway, backlit by the evening light.
He looked magnificent.
Dark suit that fit him perfectly, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the power in his frame. His hair was styled back from his face, making his strong jaw and golden eyes even more striking. He radiated authority, confidence, the undeniable presence of an Alpha heir.
Every wolf in the hall turned to look at him.
And standing beside him, her hand resting possessively on his arm, was Bianca.
They looked perfect together.
Her white dress complemented his dark suit. Her blonde hair glowed next to his darker coloring. They were the same height, the same bearing, the same effortless elegance that came from being born to power.
They looked like they belonged together.
Like they were always meant to be this way.
My chest tightened until I couldn't breathe.
No.
The bond flickered weakly, a dying ember trying to convince me this was wrong. That Adrian was mine. That fate had chosen us.
But fate didn't seem to matter anymore.
Adrian's eyes swept the hall, scanning the crowd. For a moment—just a brief, terrible moment—they landed on me.
Our gazes locked.
I saw nothing in his face. No recognition. No regret. No acknowledgment that three years of secrets and stolen moments and whispered promises had ever existed.
Just cold, empty politeness.
Then his eyes moved on, like I was nothing.
Like I had never been anything.
Bianca leaned toward him, whispering something that made him smile. The expression transformed his face, made him look younger, happier, more alive than I had seen him in weeks.
He never smiled at me like that anymore.
My wolf whimpered.
I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to physically hold myself together as Adrian and Bianca made their way through the hall. Pack members parted for them, bowing their heads in respect, offering congratulations and well-wishes.
"Such a beautiful couple," someone near me murmured.
"Perfect match," another agreed. "Beta blood is strong in the Reeves line. Their children will be powerful."
"And she is so much more suitable than—" The woman caught herself, glancing around nervously. "Well. You know."
They didn't say my name.
They didn't have to.
I knew what they meant. Everyone knew. The rumors had been circulating for weeks—whispers about Adrian and the omega servant, speculation about whether there was truth to the gossip, bets on whether the Alpha would ever allow such a disgrace.
Now they had their answer.
I watched as Adrian helped Bianca onto the platform, his hand steady at her elbow. She smiled up at him, radiant and victorious, and he smiled back.
They took their seats.
The hall fell silent.
Alpha Marcus emerged from the side entrance, his presence commanding immediate attention. He was a massive wolf, even in human form, with silver threading through his dark hair and eyes that missed nothing. He had been Alpha for thirty years, and his power was absolute.
He stopped at the center of the platform, surveying his pack with satisfaction.
"Tonight," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall, "we gather to witness something sacred. Something that will shape the future of Silvercrest Pack for generations to come."
The pack murmured approval.
I wanted to run.
My feet stayed planted to the floor.
"My son," Marcus continued, placing a hand on Adrian's shoulder, "has reached the age where he must choose a mate. A Luna who will stand beside him when he takes my place as Alpha. A partner worthy of our pack's legacy."
More murmurs. More approval.
I felt sick.
"The bond between Alpha and Luna is the foundation of pack strength," Marcus said. "It must be built on mutual respect, compatible bloodlines, and shared vision for our future."
Mutual respect.
Compatible bloodlines.
Nothing about fate. Nothing about mate bonds. Nothing about the pull of the moon and the recognition of souls.
Just politics.
"Tonight," Marcus continued, his voice swelling with pride, "my son claims his mate before you all. Bianca Reeves, daughter of my Beta, will become the future Luna of Silvercrest Pack."
The hall erupted in applause.
Bianca stood, graceful and poised, accepting the pack's approval with a modest smile that made my stomach turn. She was good at this. Good at playing the perfect Luna. Good at making everyone believe she deserved this.
Maybe she did.
Maybe I was the only one who thought an omega could ever be enough.
Adrian rose beside her, taking her hand. The gesture was gentle, intimate. The kind of touch that spoke of familiarity and comfort.
The kind of touch he used to give me in the dark.
Now he gave it to her in the light, in front of everyone.
My vision blurred.
"Adrian," Marcus said, turning to his son. "Do you accept Bianca Reeves as your mate? Do you claim her before the pack and the moon?"
This was it.
This was the moment where everything would become real. Where words would make permanent what my heart still refused to believe.
Adrian looked at Bianca.
She looked back at him, her eyes shining with triumph and something that might have been genuine affection. Or maybe just satisfaction at winning.
"I do," Adrian said clearly. "I claim Bianca Reeves as my mate."
The bond in my chest spasmed.
Pain lanced through me, sharp and sudden, like a knife between my ribs. I gasped, doubling over slightly, my hand pressed against my sternum.
No one noticed.
All eyes were on the platform, on the beautiful couple, on the future being sealed before them.
"Bianca," Marcus said, his voice warm now. "Do you accept my son as your mate? Do you pledge yourself as future Luna of this pack?"
Bianca's smile widened.
She looked directly at Adrian, ignoring the hundreds of wolves watching, and said softly, "I do."
The hall erupted again.
Cheers. Applause. Howls of approval.
And through it all, I felt the bond between Adrian and me begin to fray. Not break—not yet. But weaken, like a rope being slowly cut strand by strand.
Marcus raised his hand for silence.
The pack obeyed immediately.
"Then by the power granted to me as Alpha of Silvercrest Pack," he declared, "I recognize this union. Adrian Blackwood and Bianca Reeves are now mates before the moon and the pack."
He turned to Adrian. "Seal the bond."
My heart stopped.
No.
Adrian pulled Bianca closer.
Please, no.
He tilted her head back, exposing her throat.
Adrian, don't—
His teeth found her mark.
The existing mark. The one she had shown me in the kitchen. The one that proved this had been planned long before tonight.
He bit down.
Bianca gasped, her eyes fluttering closed.
And the bond between Adrian and me shattered.
Pain exploded through my chest like lightning, white-hot and devastating. I felt the connection snap, felt the golden thread that had tied us together for three years simply cease to exist.
Gone.
Like it had never been there at all.
My knees buckled.
I caught myself on the wall, gasping, tears streaming down my face. My wolf howled inside my chest, a sound of pure anguish that no one else could hear.
Around me, the pack celebrated.
They didn't notice the omega in the corner breaking apart.
They didn't care.
On the platform, Adrian pulled back from Bianca's throat, his lips stained with her blood. She swayed against him, her hand clutching his jacket, her face flushed with the intensity of a mate bond snapping into place.
A real bond.
Not whatever twisted, broken thing Adrian and I had shared.
He smiled down at her.
She smiled back.
And I died a little more.
Alpha Marcus raised his hand one final time, his expression triumphant.
"Tonight," he announced to the cheering pack, his voice carrying above the noise, "we celebrate a union that will secure our future and strengthen our bloodline. Tonight, we celebrate the next Alpha and Luna of Silvercrest Pack!"
The hall exploded with sound.
And I stood in the corner, invisible and shattered, watching the man I thought was my mate claim someone else.
The adjusted stabilization documentation took Marcus until two in the morning. I knew this because the war room light was still visible under the door when I walked the corridor at two having woken from a dream I could not remember but that had left the channel active and humming at a higher frequency than its maintenance state. I did not knock. I stood at the door for a moment and listened to the sound of pen on paper. Steady. Consistent. The sound of a researcher who had found the problem and was working toward the solution with everything they had. Then I went back to bed. The bond to Dante was warm in the darkness. He was awake in the next room. Not in my room. We had not reached that step yet. The door between the rooms was the door that the right moment and the right circumstances and the full weight of everything that needed to be settled first had been waiting to open. Not yet. But the awareness of the not yet was d
He came alone. No wolves. No documents. No prepared argument or negotiating position visible in his posture. Marcus Venn stood at the estate boundary in the early afternoon light and waited to be seen. Not pressing forward. Not calling out. Just standing in the specific way of someone who has assessed that patience is the only currency that will work here and has decided to spend it. Mara saw him on the perimeter camera first. She came to find me without running because Mara never ran, but she moved at the fastest walk her dignity permitted. "He is unarmed," she said. "Single approach. No support visible on any camera within range." Dante was already at the monitor when I arrived. He looked at the image. At Marcus standing at the boundary with his hands visible and his face carrying something that was not the patient calculation of someone executing a thirty year plan. Something older than calculation. Something that looked like a man who had
I told Dante everything before noon. He listened with the focused stillness that meant the operational mind was running at full capacity beneath the controlled surface. When I finished he was quiet for a long moment. Then he stood from the desk and walked to the window and stood there with his hands in his pockets and looked out at the estate grounds. "Three hundred years," he said. "At minimum," I said. "Possibly longer. The First showed me Lyra's record and the record began when Lyra became aware of Voss. Lyra did not know how long Voss had been there before that." "And Marcus was a tool," he said. "The same way Graves was a tool. The same way the council corruption was a tool." "Yes," I said. "Which means the thirty year project Marcus believed was his own work," he said. "Was Voss's work through Marcus." "Possibly," I said. "Or Marcus found the Threshold independently and Voss recognized the usefulness of some
The second day of channel study began at dawn. I sat in the courtyard alone. Not training. Not the posture of output or projection. The quieter posture of someone learning to listen rather than speak. My grandmother had described this phase as the most difficult for Silvermoon wolves. Power wanted to move outward. Wanted to project and release and do things. Sitting still and letting the channel carry information inward was against every instinct the power had. I had been working against my instincts for months. One more instinct was manageable. The morning was cold. The sky was the same hard clear that had been present since the restoration. No cloud. No softening. Just the world at its actual scale without atmospheric diffusion making it feel smaller than it was. I opened the channel. Maintenance first. The check I had been doing three times daily since the restoration. The First's presence registering at the other end. The connect
The search for Voss produced nothing for four days.Dante ran it through every available channel. His organization's intelligence network. Adrian's council contacts who were now actively cooperating with the Graves investigation and had access to historical pack records. Senna's family archives which went back four generations and documented every individual they had encountered in proximity to Silvermoon history.Nothing.Not a partial match. Not a name that might be a variant. Not a single record in any system that contained the name Voss in connection with the Silver Queen function or the deep territories or Marcus Venn or anything adjacent to any of those things."Either the name is false," Dante said on the fourth day. "Or the absence is deliberate.""The absence is deliberate," I said.He looked at me."The First told us through Ronan's contact that Cain was not alone when he found the Threshold fifteen years ago," I said. "Something came with him to the location. We assumed tha
Three days after the restoration the power was at sixty eight percent.Not the eighty five it had been before the descent. Not the ninety or above that had been the target before the compressed timeline forced the early move. But sixty eight and climbing at a rate the channel connection was sustaining and amplifying in ways my grandmother had started tracking with the careful attention of someone watching something historically unprecedented.She called the data points significant.I called them encouraging and kept training.The training sessions were different now. Not in structure. My grandmother still ran them with the same precision. Different in texture. The power responded differently with the channel connection present. More responsive at lower levels. More precise in its application. Like an instrument that had been tuned to its correct pitch for the first time.I noticed this. My grandmother noticed this. Neither of us talked about it much because the data was still new and
Dante did not react the way I expected.I had braced for cold fury. For the precise and controlled anger he used when people wasted his time or endangered his organization through carelessness. I had seen that version of him during the Clearwater operation when a scout gave inaccurate intelligence.
The estate smelled like blood and burnt wards when we returned.Not overwhelming. Not the kind of smell that made you stop at the door and refuse to enter. Just present. Layered underneath the wood smoke and the cold morning air. A reminder that the night had been real and the cost had been real ev
Power flooded through me like a river finally freed from a dam.Not just my power. Ours.The mate bond between Dante and me had been a careful, guarded thing. Acknowledged but contained. Practical but not permitted to become real. We had both been too smart, too cautious, too wounded by different k
The medical area was chaos.Forty wolves in various states of transformation. Some fighting it like Marcus had. Others trying to integrate it like I had. All of them screaming or gasping or convulsing as their bodies processed power they had never asked for.Healers moved between them desperately,







