CHAPTER 1

Briar's pov

You look absolutely breath-taking tonight, Genevieve," my husband's voice echoed over the music.

He wasn't looking at me. His eyes were locked entirely on Genevieve Roux.

Around us, the whispers of the pack members cut through the air like glass. Their pitying stares burned into my skin while I stood there in the middle of the ballroom, completely frozen under the weight of the collective awkwardness.

"You're pale, Luna Briar," Mabel murmured, gently pressing a chilled glass of water into my trembling hand. "Please, drink some of this."

How could I possibly look fine? My chest ached with a hollow, crushing weight. The man who was supposed to be my husband and fated mate, Alpha Tristan—was currently gliding across the dance floor with Genevieve. She was the daughter of his father's former Beta, his high school sweetheart, and the woman who had owned his heart long before I ever entered the picture.

Genevieve let out a soft, mocking laugh. Her gaze locked onto mine with a victorious smirk as Tristan drew her closer, whispering softly against her hair. This was supposed to be our night. We were celebrating our second wedding anniversary, but ever since she showed up on our doorstep ten days ago, I had been cast aside like yesterday's news. She was his first love, and she was back to claim what she had thrown away.

"Thank you, Mabel," I whispered, forcing myself to swallow the lump in my throat and blink back the tears.

Years ago, when Tristan's father, Alpha Alistair, had pressured his son to marry and secure the lineage, Tristan’s first choice had been Genevieve. But she had flatly rejected him at the time, claiming she was in love with Alpha Killian of the Duskwood pack. She broke Tristan's heart and ran straight into Killian's arms.

I was twenty-two then, fresh out of university with a degree in corporate strategy, when I felt the unmistakable, electric spark of the mate bond at a celebration my father had thrown for my graduation. Tristan was there. Both our fathers saw it as a blessing from the heavens. As the sole heir of the Shadowvale pack, my marriage to Tristan, heir of the Silvercrest pack, united two powerful territories.

I threw myself into his life, restructuring their pack's failing enterprises and turning their economy around. My business background allowed me to patch every leak in their financial system, yielding incredible prosperity. But when my father passed away a year into our marriage, our territories officially merged under the Silvercrest banner.

Tristan took over as Alpha just two months ago after Alistair’s sudden passing—and like clockwork, Genevieve reappeared. Before her return, Tristan's devotion to me had been absolute. Now, this anniversary party wasn't a celebration of our marriage; it was a public declaration of her reinstatement.

"I've missed you so terribly, Tristan," Genevieve whimpered, her eyes glistening with theatrical tears as she rested her cheek against his chest. "Being away from you was torture."

Tristan stroked her back, his voice thick with emotion. "We're going to make this right, Gen. I promise."

Humiliation burned like acid in my throat. *Make what right?*

I clenched my fists, forcing my spine to straighten. I wouldn't let them drag my dignity through the mud in front of our neighbors. Walking over with a polite, sharp smile, I cut in.

"I imagine adjusting will be difficult for you, Genevieve. But as you can clearly see, Tristan is my husband and my bonded mate. There is no room for a mistress in this pack house. Perhaps you should focus on repairing whatever mess you left behind with Alpha Killian."

I turned my eyes to Tristan. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

Genevieve’s jaw dropped. Instantly, she burst into dramatic tears and fled the hall.

"Genevieve, wait!" Tristan called out.

Inside my mind, my wolf, Vesper, bared her fangs. *Let me tear her apart. Let me shift.*

"Tristan," I said, forcing Vesper down. "This is a disgrace."

Tristan snapped his gaze to me, his eyes dark with absolute fury. He didn't say a word, but the coldness in his glare spoke volumes. He remained for the rest of the evening, but the moment the guests departed, he didn't return to our bedroom. He walked straight toward the west wing—toward the guest suite where Genevieve was staying.

"Tristan!" I called, racing down the corridor.

He spun around, letting out a low, warning snarl that made me flinch. He slammed the guest room door behind him.

I spent the night tossing and turning, the silence of our empty bed suffocating me. I wanted nothing more than to march down there and drag her out of my house, but at three in the morning, a sudden, agonizing spasm ripped through my abdomen.

I gasped, collapsing off the bed onto the hardwood floor. Panting, I stumbled to the ensuite and violently threw up everything I had eaten.

When the dry heaving finally stopped, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My mascara was smeared, my eyes bloodshot and swollen.

It wasn't food poisoning. It was the bond.

In our world, when a marked mate betrays the bond and sleeps with another, the physical agony is projected onto the faithful partner—a cruel, twisted design of the Moon Mother that punishes the wronged instead of the cheater. If only Alpha Alistair were still alive; he would have never tolerated this disrespect.

Filled with a bitter, burning rage, I waited for morning.

I refused to play the victim. I bathed and dressed in a striking emerald silk slip dress—Tristan’s favorite color on me. I braided my long blonde hair, applied a fresh coat of mascara to make my green eyes pop, and resolved to reclaim my territory.

Pitying looks followed me from the pack staff as I skipped breakfast in the dining hall and marched straight to the guest wing.

Two sentries stood guard outside Genevieve's door.

"Forgive us, Luna Briar," one said, crossing his arms to block my path. "We cannot let you pass. Direct orders from the Alpha."

"I am his wife and the Luna of Silvercrest," I spat, my voice dripping with ice. "Step aside."

They exchanged uncomfortable, nervous glances. "The Alpha was very specific, ma'am. He said if you wish to speak with him, you'll need to schedule an appointment."

I stared at him in disbelief. "An appointment? To see my own husband?"

"Luna Briar," a voice called out.

I turned to see Beta Cassian approaching. "The Alpha is... heavily occupied. It might be best if you request a formal lunch meeting later."

"Cassian, this is absurd! You cannot honestly expect me to—"

Before I could finish, a loud, breathless moan echoed through the heavy oak door.

*"Tristan... yes, right there..."*

Another wave of blinding, white-hot pain slammed into my gut, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the floor, tears spilling over my cheeks as I gasped for breath.

"Luna!" Cassian gasped, immediately scooping me up into his arms. "I'm taking you back to your chambers. I'll summon the pack doctor right away."