Chapter 3

"However," the contact continued, "the Witch arrived in your territory yesterday. She left strict orders. She will deliver her final instructions right before the ceremony."

"I will try to reach her and have her get back to you. Goodbye."

The call ended.

Jocelyn gripped her phone, turning her head slowly to look at me.

"Did you hear that?!" Livia jumped up, her finger almost poking my nose. "You lying little freak!"

Jocelyn stepped right into my personal space, her eyes glowing with malice. "Trying to impersonate the witch? Trying to sabotage tomorrow and ruin my alliance with Alpha Kaelen? Rowan, you are purely toxic."

"Marcus, look at her!" Livia hid behind Marcus, fanning the flames. "She just can't stand seeing Jocelyn succeed! She wants to ruin this alliance and drag the whole pack down!"

It was a carefully rehearsed play. All I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion.

Marcus didn't know, of course, that the Moon Witch title was a maternal bloodline trait, never easily revealed to mates.

But blind rage had already taken over his face. His chest heaved. The veins in his neck popped.

"You ungrateful bitch!"

His werewolf strength exploded in a brutal kick to my stomach. I flew backward, slamming hard against the stone edge of the fireplace.

My vision went black. I heard the sickening crack of my ribs. I coughed up a huge mouthful of blood, staining my shirt red.

But he didn't stop.

"You want to ruin my pack?" Marcus stormed over. His leather shoes rained kicks on my ribs, my back, my limbs. "Nothing but lies! Jealous! You're just as sickening as your dead mother!"

I curled up on the floor, clenching my jaw tight. I refused to scream. The taste of copper flooded my mouth.

Through my blood-blurred vision, I saw Jocelyn standing to the side. Her arms were crossed, a smug smirk on her face.

Livia let out a fake gasp, covering her mouth. "Oh, Marcus, stop, you'll kill her... Even if she is a traitor..."

But her eyes were dancing with manic glee. She wanted me dead.

Finally, Marcus tired himself out. Pacing and panting, he looked down at me in my own blood.

"You're exactly like your mother," Marcus mocked viciously, nudging my face with the toe of his shoe. "Always thinking you could step over me, the Alpha. Always overstating your pathetic little contributions to the pack. You're nothing."

I spat out bloody foam. My body was screaming in pain, but my mind was eerily quiet. A cold, dead kind of peace.

Propping myself up with blood-soaked hands, I slowly raised my head and stared right at him.

"Pathetic contributions?" I managed a broken, mocking smile. "Marcus, how do you think you got that Alpha title? This pack belongs to my mother's bloodline. It belongs to the former Luna and her legacy. You were just the consort she chose."

His face distorted. "Shut your mouth!"

He roared, grabbed a heavy brass alliance trophy off the mantle, and smashed it down on my head.

Crash.

Agony exploded across my skull. Hot blood gushed down, blinding my left eye. My world spun, and I collapsed back into the bloody puddle.

"Marcus, don't get worked up over a psycho. It's not worth it." Livia’s heels clicked on the marble as she sauntered over, looking down her nose at me.

"She's totally lost her mind." Livia suggested coldly, "Lock her in the silver cellar. The silver chains will suppress her pathetic wolf. We can't risk her breaking out and ruining Jocelyn's big day tomorrow."

I lay there, my vision blurring. But I used the last of my strength to look at the cracked, dull moonstone on the coffee table.

"I'm telling you... one last time..." I rasped. "If you want to save tomorrow's ceremony... fix that amulet. Restore its power now..."

My father glanced at Livia. Her face turned beet red with rage.

"You dare bring up that stupid rock!"

Livia snapped completely. Screaming, she lunged at the table, grabbed the moonstone, and hurled it at the floor with everything she had.

The fragile stone shattered into a dozen pieces.

"You want a witch? I'll give you a witch! You want to ruin my daughter's future?" She shrieked, stomping wildly on the shards with her sharp stiletto heels.

"Fake witch! Fake amulet! It's trash!"

She stomped and stomped until the sacred relic—once filled with powerful lunar magic—was ground into a pile of gray dust.

I watched the dust quietly.

The last shred of love I had for this family—for this pack—crumbled to dust right along with it.