Luna Rena steps forward, her face dark with displeasure.

"You demand to see the Alpha?" Her voice is cold, controlled. "And who, exactly, do you wish to report?"

The courtyard has gone silent. Everyone watching. Waiting.

I force myself to stand straight despite the fear coursing through me.

"You," I say. "I'm reporting you, Luna Rena."

Gasps ripple through the crowd.

Luna Rena's expression doesn't change, but something flickers in her eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or anger.

"And what, precisely, are you reporting me for?"

"For being unfair to pack members." My voice shakes but holds. "For failing in even the most basic kindness and mercy that a Luna is supposed to show."

The watching nobles burst into laughter.

"Listen to her!"

"An Omega judging the Luna!"

"How absurd!"

One of the Beta wives—a woman dripping in jewelry—steps forward. "Luna Rena is the kindest, most just leader this pack could ask for. How dare you suggest otherwise!"

Another voice, sharp and derisive: "The Alpha is away on business. Luna Rena hasn't even seen him in weeks. What makes you think he'd see you?"

"Pack law says—"

"Enough." Luna Rena raises one hand.

Silence falls instantly.

She looks at me with cold calculation. "You've said quite enough."

She snaps her fingers.

Two warriors grab me. Before I can react, one shoves a cloth into my mouth, gagging me.

I try to scream, to struggle, but the fabric muffles everything.

"I understand you're upset," Luna Rena says, her voice carrying across the courtyard. She's performing now, playing to the audience. "But making wild accusations won't help your case."

I thrash against the warriors' grip, trying to speak around the gag.

Luna Rena turns her attention to Mother. "Your daughter destroyed valuable property. She must be punished."

"Please—" Mother is sobbing. "She's just a child—"

"She's seventeen. Old enough to be accountable." Luna Rena's gaze shifts back to me. "However, I am not without mercy."

She looks at Mother again. "You haven't done anything wrong, have you? You're simply a mother trying to protect her child."

Mother nods frantically.

"Then you won't be punished." Luna Rena's smile is cold. "I am merciful, after all."

Mother nearly collapses with relief.

But I know better. This is all theater. All performance to make Luna Rena look generous.

"Marcus," Luna Rena says. "Ten lashes. Begin."

The silver whip whistles through the air.

*****

Pain.

That's all there is.

White-hot, searing pain that consumes everything else.

Silver burns werewolves. Even those of us without our wolves yet can feel it—like acid, like fire, like every nerve exploding at once.

The first strike tears through my dress and into my back.

I try not to scream. Try to stay silent.

I fail.

By the third lash, I'm sobbing into the gag. By the fifth, my vision is going white. By the seventh, I can't feel anything except pain.

Through it all, I hear Mother. Screaming. Crying. Begging them to stop.

And Luna Rena's voice, calm and steady: "This is for your own good, child. You must learn."

When it's finally over, I'm barely conscious.

Someone removes the gag.

Luna Rena's face appears above me, concerned and kind.

"Take her to the garden recovery room," she instructs. "Have the healer treat her wounds. She may rest there for two days."

She looks down at me, her voice carrying to the watching crowd.

"I punish you because you broke the rules. But I will heal you because I care for all my pack members. That is what it means to be Luna."

The crowd murmurs approval.

I want to laugh. Want to spit in her face.

But I can't move.

*****

The recovery room is the nicest place I've ever been.

Thirty square meters. A real closet. A desk. A window with curtains.

It would be pleasant if my back wasn't screaming with every breath.

The healer—a middle-aged male—applies medicine to my wounds with efficient, impersonal movements.

"This will prevent infection," he says. Then he's gone.

A female Omega enters next. She's around my age, her face cold and expressionless. She sets down bread and milk on the bedside table without a word.

Then she leaves too.

The door locks.

I'm alone.

I curl onto my side, careful not to let my back touch anything, and close my eyes.

*****

The sound of the lock clicking wakes me.

It's dark now. Past midnight, maybe.

'The healer. Coming to check on me.'

But the footsteps are wrong. Too heavy. Too confident.

The door opens.

A figure slips inside.

My heart stops.

Lucien.

He crosses the room quickly, his hand clamping over my mouth before I can scream.

"Don't make a sound," he whispers. His breath reeks of alcohol. "If you scream, I'll kill you. Understand?"

I try to nod, terror flooding through me.

"Good girl." His other hand strokes my hair. "Now here's what's going to happen. You're going to let me fuck you. Right here. Right now. And if you cooperate, I might let you live."

I try to struggle, but my injured back screams in protest and my body is too weak from the whipping.

"That's it," Lucien murmurs. "Just relax. It'll be over soon—"

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Someone's pounding on the door.

Lucien freezes.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"Gaia? Gaia, are you in there?"

Mother.

It's my mother's voice.

Lucien's hand tightens over my mouth. "Don't—"

I bite down. Hard.

He jerks back with a curse, and in that split second, I grab the blood pressure monitor from the bedside table and swing.

It connects with his temple.

Lucien's eyes roll back. He crumples to the floor.

I don't wait. Don't check if he's unconscious or dead.

I just grab his keys and stumble to the door.

My hands shake as I unlock it.

Mother is there.

She catches me as I fall.

"Gaia—oh Goddess, Gaia—"

Everything goes dark.

*****

I wake to the smell of beef broth.

For a moment, I think I'm dreaming.

But the scent is real.

I open my eyes. I'm back in our basement room. Mother sits beside me, and on our makeshift table sits a small electric hot pot with actual beef simmering inside.

"You're awake." Mother's voice breaks with relief.

"What—" My throat is dry. "What happened?"

"Alpha Owen came back early. To prepare for Lysander's return." She touches my face gently. "He found out what Luna Rena did to you. He was furious."

She gestures to the supplies around us. "Three pounds of beef. One hundred dollars. And this."

She holds up a small amber bottle. "Special healing medicine. He said to apply it twice daily. You should be recovered in two weeks."

"And Lucien?"

"The Alpha is investigating." Her voice hardens. "He promised he'll be punished."

I close my eyes. Two weeks. We're supposed to leave in three days.

"Mother—"

"I know. I've already packed everything. As soon as you're well enough to travel, we go."

The next morning, someone knocks on our door.

Mother opens it.

Alpha Owen steps inside.

He's tall, authoritative, but his face is heavy with guilt.

"Gaia," he says. "I owe you an apology. What happened to you should never have occurred. I should have seen it sooner."

"It's not your fault, Alpha."

"It is." His voice is firm. "I'm the Alpha. Everything that happens here is my responsibility."

He sits on Mother's cot. "I've investigated the dress incident. And I'm taking action regarding Lucien. He will be punished severely."

"Thank you."

"I also want to make you an offer." He leans forward. "After your birthday, if your wolf doesn't manifest or you don't find your Mate here, I'll arrange a match for you. There's a kind male Omega—Marcus. I could help you establish a good life together."

It's generous. More than I ever expected.

But it's not enough.

"Alpha Owen." I meet his eyes. "May I speak freely?"

He nods.

"I'm disappointed in Silver Wing Pack. In everyone except you." The words feel dangerous. "I don't want my Mate to be here. I don't want to build a life here. I want to leave."

Mother gasps softly.

"I want to leave before my eighteenth birthday," I continue. "Before my wolf manifests. My mother and I—we want to go peacefully. We're asking for your permission to leave the pack. And for some financial help to start over."

Silence.

Alpha Owen's face is unreadable.

Then, slowly, understanding dawns. Followed by something that looks like shame.

"You're right to be disappointed," he says quietly. "I've failed you both. For years."

He stands, pacing. "If you truly want to leave, I won't stop you. I'll help you."

Hope flares in my chest.

"But I need to know—" He turns back to me. "Are you absolutely certain? This is your home. Your pack. Leaving won't be easy."

I don't hesitate.

"I'm certain."

He studies my face for a long moment.

"Then after Lysander's ceremony, we'll discuss the details." He moves toward the door. "You have my word—you'll leave safely, with resources to start fresh."

His hand is on the doorknob when he pauses.

"Have you truly decided?" he asks. "Is this really what you want?"

I look at Mother. She squeezes my hand.

Then I look back at Alpha Owen.

"Yes," I say. "I've decided."