Bella's POV

The sound of horses thundering across the courtyard wakes me from a restless nap. I've been hiding in Rowan's chambers all day, too afraid to venture out after Margaret's threats this morning. But curiosity finally wins over fear, and I make my way to the window.

Below, a magnificent procession is arriving at the fortress. The lead carriage is pure white with gold trim, pulled by four black horses that look like they stepped out of a fairy tale. Behind it, at least twenty riders in matching uniforms form an impressive escort.

But it's not the pageantry that makes my breath catch. It's the woman stepping out of the carriage.

She's absolutely stunning. Long, honey-colored hair cascades down her back in perfect waves, and even from this distance, I can see she's dressed in a gown that probably cost more than most people earn in a year. Everything about her screams nobility and grace.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Grace's voice makes me jump. I hadn't heard her enter the room, but she's standing behind me with a tea tray, watching the scene below with a grim expression.

"Who is she?" I ask, though something in my gut already knows the answer won't be good for me.

"Luna Giovanni Rosetti," Grace says, setting the tray down with more force than necessary. "Rowan's betrothed."

My stomach drops to my feet. "His what?"

"Arranged marriage," Grace explains, pouring tea with practiced efficiency. "Been planned for years. She's from the Southern Pack a powerful family with lots of political connections. The marriage was supposed to unite two territories and strengthen both packs."

I watch as the beautiful woman is greeted by a crowd of pack members who bow respectfully. Even Margaret appears, all smiles and false warmth as she welcomes the newcomer.

"Was supposed to?" I ask weakly.

Grace gives me a meaningful look. "That was before he bonded with you."

The implications hit me like a sledgehammer. Not only am I a hunter in a werewolf stronghold, not only am I bound to their Alpha against my will, but I've also apparently destroyed a political alliance and stolen another woman's intended husband.

"Oh God," I whisper. "She's going to hate me."

"Hate is a mild word for what Luna Giovanni is feeling right now," Grace says grimly. "Word travels fast in our world. She heard about the bonding before she even reached our borders."

As if summoned by our conversation, there's a commotion in the courtyard below. Luna Giovanni is speaking animatedly to Margaret, her hands gesturing wildly. Even without hearing the words, her body language screams fury.

"Grace," I say slowly, "I need you to help me understand something. What exactly is a Luna?"

Grace settles into the chair Rowan had occupied that morning, looking older than her years. "In werewolf society, the Luna is the Alpha's mate. She's second in command of the pack, responsible for the welfare of the women and children, and acts as advisor to the Alpha on important matters."

"So if Rowan and I are... bonded," I struggle with the word, "that makes me...?"

"Technically, yes. You're Luna now." Grace's expression is sympathetic but worried. "But titles don't mean much if the pack doesn't accept you. And a hunter becoming Luna? That's unprecedented."

I sink into the other chair, feeling overwhelmed. "What about Margaret? How does she fit into all this?"

"Margaret is Rowan's adopted mother," Grace explains. "She found him when he first awakened from his curse thirteen years ago… confused, violent, barely human. She helped him remember how to be civilized, taught him pack politics, guided him to power."

"She loves him," I realize.

"Like a son," Grace confirms. "And she's spent years planning his future, arranging alliances, building power. To her, you represent the destruction of everything she's worked for."

A loud crash echoes up from somewhere in the fortress, followed by shouting. Grace and I exchange worried glances.

"That would be Luna Giovanni expressing her feelings about the situation," Grace says dryly.

More shouting erupts, and I catch fragments of words carried on the wind through the open window. Words like "whore,""betrayal," and "hunter bitch" that make my cheeks burn with shame and anger.

"Grace," I say quietly, "what happens to me now?"

The older woman's face creases with worry. "Child, I'll be honest with you. Your position here is more dangerous than you can imagine. You're not just an outsider… you're the enemy. Hunter families have been killing werewolves for generations. Some pack members will see your very existence as a threat."

"But Rowan said I was under his protection."

"And he is the Alpha," Grace agrees. "But even Alphas can be challenged if the pack loses faith in their leadership. If enough wolves decide you're too dangerous to live..."

She doesn't need to finish the sentence.

"So what do I do?" I ask desperately.

Grace leans forward, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. "You learn fast. Study werewolf customs, show respect to pack hierarchy, and whatever you do, don't give them more reasons to hate you."

Another crash echoes through the building, this one closer.

"And Luna Giovanni?" I ask.

"Be very, very careful around her," Grace warns. "She's beautiful and charming, but she's also ambitious and ruthless. She expected to be Luna of this pack, and you've stolen that from her. Women like that don't forgive easily."

As if summoned by our conversation, footsteps echo in the hallway outside. Multiple pairs, moving with purpose.

Grace stands quickly, gathering the tea service. "I need to go. Remember what I told you… watch, listen, and trust no one completely."

She hurries toward the door, then pauses. "Child, one more thing. In werewolf politics, showing weakness gets you killed. Whatever you're feeling… fear, confusion, homesickness… don't let them see it. Predators can smell weakness from miles away."

With that encouraging thought, she slips out of the room, leaving me alone just as the footsteps stop outside the door.

A moment later, the door swings open without so much as a knock.

The woman who enters is even more beautiful up close, but there's something cold in her dark eyes that makes my skin crawl. She's changed from her traveling clothes into a flowing red dress that hugs her perfect figure and makes her look like a goddess of war.

Luna Giovanni Rosetti studies me with the intensity of a scientist examining an interesting specimen. When she smiles, it's all sharp edges and hidden knives.

"So," she says, her voice honey-sweet with an underlying current of poison, "you're the little hunter who thinks she can take my place."

I stand up slowly, trying to remember Grace's warning about showing weakness. My legs are shaky, but I force myself to meet her gaze.

"I didn't take anything," I say quietly. "I didn't choose any of this."

She laughs, and the sound is like breaking glass. "Oh, sweet child. You think this is about choice? This is about power, politics, and destiny. And you, my dear, are standing in the way of mine."

She takes a step closer, and I catch her scent, expensive perfume mixed with something wild and dangerous.

"I've been preparing my whole life to be Luna of this pack," she continues. "And I won't let some pathetic little hunter ruin everything I've worked for."

The threat in her voice is clear, even wrapped in silk and honey.

"What do you want from me?" I ask.

Her smile widens, showing teeth that seem just a little too sharp.

"I want you gone.”