Grace POV

Lori pries the window open from outside, slipping through with practiced silence.

"Luna Grace." His eyes find mine, and something shifts in his expression—relief mixed with determination.

"You heard me." My voice comes out hoarse.

"Always. Your father made me swear an oath before he died. To watch over you from the shadows. To protect you when the time came."

"My father knew?" The words stick in my throat. "He knew I'd need—"

"He suspected Damien wasn't what he seemed." Lori's jaw tightens. "He made me promise not to interfere unless your life was in danger. I've been watching, waiting, hating every second I couldn't—"

"Get me out." I grab his arm. "The pack assembly. I need to go. Now."

He doesn't hesitate. "The guard outside your door?"

"Just one."

"Good." Lori moves to the door, pressing his ear against it. "I'll create a distraction. When I give the signal, you run for the servant's stairs at the end of the hall. I'll meet you at the western exit."

"What kind of distraction?"

His smile is sharp. "The kind that involves me accidentally discovering a rogue breach at the eastern border. They'll mobilize everyone." He pulls a small vial from his pocket. "Rogue scent. Bottled. Cost me a favor I'd rather not mention."

I take the vial, our hands brushing. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. Getting out is the easy part." He glances toward the window. "Getting you to that assembly with Damien's warriors hunting us? That's going to be messy."

"I don't care about messy." I meet his eyes. "I care about making him watch while I take back my life."

He grins. "Spoken like an Alpha's daughter. Now get dressed. You're going to need armor."

*****

Lori leaves through the window while I tear through my closet.

Most of my gowns are modest, appropriate, chosen by Damien or his mother to make me look like the perfect submissive Luna. I shove them aside, searching for the few pieces I brought from Aurorawisp—the ones that still carry my father's pack colors.

My hands close on silver silk.

The dress spills out like liquid moonlight, the neckline cut dangerously low, the back almost non-existent. I wore it once, five years ago, before everything fell apart. Before I learned to make myself smaller.

'Not anymore.'

I strip off the ruined clothes and step into the gown. The fabric clings perfectly, and when I catch my reflection in the broken mirror, I barely recognize myself. The woman staring back isn't the defeated Luna who's been hiding in this room.

She looks dangerous.

I sit at my vanity—somehow still intact—and work quickly. Dark liner makes my green eyes sharp. Deep red lipstick that looks like blood or wine. I braid my blonde hair into an intricate crown, weaving in the few pieces of silver jewelry I have left from my mother.

The mate bond screams as I work. Damien must be with Lilith, probably getting ready for the assembly. Let him feel my determination through the connection. Let it choke him.

A howl splits the night—Lori's signal.

Shouts erupt in the hallway. The guard outside my door curses. "Rogues! Eastern border!"

His footsteps pound away.

I don't waste a second. I grab the rogue scent vial, pour half under the door, and run.

The servant's stairs are empty, dark. I take them two at a time, the dress hiked up around my thighs, my heart hammering. Behind me, more shouts. An alarm bell. Chaos spreading like wildfire through Darkrock manor.

Lori waits at the western exit, already shifted. His wolf form is massive, silver-grey and battle-scarred. He crouches low, and I scramble onto his back, fisting my hands in his fur.

"Go!"

He explodes forward.

The forest rushes past in a blur of shadows and moonlight. Lori's powerful muscles bunch and release beneath me as he weaves between trees, leaps over fallen logs, crashes through underbrush. The mate bond stretches, pulling painfully as we put distance between Damien and me.

Good. Let it hurt him too.

Behind us, wolves howl. Pursuit.

"They know!" I shout over the wind.

Lori doesn't slow. He pours on speed, his breathing harsh but steady. We burst onto a road—headlights sweep toward us and he veers away, plunging back into forest on the other side.

The assembly hall rises ahead, lit up like a palace. Cars line the circular drive. Wolves in elegant clothes stream through the massive entrance. Power radiates from the building in waves—dozens of Alphas gathered in one place.

Lori slides to a stop at the tree line. I tumble off his back, legs shaking.

He shifts back, pulling clothes from a bag I hadn't noticed. "That's as far as I can go. They've seen my face at Darkrock. If I walk in there—"

"I know." I straighten my dress, smooth my hair. "You've done enough."

"Grace." He grips my shoulders. "Whatever you're planning—"

"I'm walking through those doors." I cut him off. "I'm crashing Damien's perfect night. I'm going to stand in that room full of Alphas and remind everyone that I exist. That I'm still his Luna. That he can't just—"

Howls erupt behind us. Closer now.

"Go!" Lori shoves me toward the hall. "I'll lead them away. Don't waste this."

He shifts and vanishes into the darkness.

I run.

My heels sink into the grass, then hit pavement. The entrance looms ahead—tall doors, security wolves flanking them, a doorman checking invitations. The wolves in line turn to stare as I approach, breathless and alone.

The doorman steps forward. "Invitation?"

"I—" My mind races.

"Name and pack affiliation?" His eyes sweep over me, taking in the expensive dress, the lack of escort. Suspicion hardens his features.

"Grace Finley. Darkrock Luna—"

"Luna Grace isn't on the guest list." He crosses his arms. "Alpha Damien's companion tonight is listed as Lilith Light. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

The words hit like a slap.

He replaced me. Officially.

"You don't understand—" I start.

"No invitation, no entry." The doorman signals to the security wolves. "Especially not for someone trying to crash—"

"There's a problem?" A voice cuts through the tension—deep, authoritative, laced with boredom.

Everyone turns.

A man stands in the doorway, silhouetted against the golden light of the hall behind him. He's tall, powerfully built, his dark suit cut to emphasize broad shoulders and a lean waist. As he steps forward, the light catches sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, eyes scanning the scene with predatory intelligence.

His hair is dark, styled carelessly, and there's something about the way he moves—fluid, controlled, absolutely confident—that screams Alpha. Power radiates from him like heat.

He was leaving. About to walk out. About to disappear.

Behind me, I hear the howls getting closer. Damien's warriors, crashing through the forest.

I have maybe a minute before they reach the entrance. Before they drag me back. Before this night becomes another humiliation, another failure.

'No.'

I step forward and hook my arm through his.

The man goes completely still.

His scent hits me like a wall—pine and smoke and something wild that makes my pulse spike. But beneath that, something shifts. His aura flares, rippling with sudden intensity. Not anger, but something more primal. His breathing changes, the muscles in his arm going rigid under my touch.

'Oh god, he's pissed.'

"I'm so sorry I'm late, darling." I force myself to smile up at him, to play the role. "Traffic was a nightmare."

His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel it—the full weight of his attention, his wolf surging beneath the surface. The air between us crackles with tension.

I start to pull away. "I didn't mean to—"

His hand clamps over mine where it rests on his arm.

Then he's moving, turning, pulling me with him through those massive doors. The doorman sputters something, but we're already past him, already swallowed by the golden light and music and crowd of the assembly hall.

The doors swing shut behind us with a final, echoing boom.