Chapter 3

The next morning, Damon informed me we'd be attending the Full Moon Gathering with the Blackwoods.

"Pack tradition," he said, adjusting the collar of his dark shirt in the mirror. "My father expects us both."

I nodded and reached for my ivory dress. The costume of a compliant mate.

The Blackwood ancestral grounds were deep in the forest, where ancient oaks formed a natural cathedral. The pack filled the clearing, dropping to one knee as Alpha Aldric Blackwood took his place on the raised stone platform. I knelt beside Damon, head bowed, wolf submissive beneath my skin.

The moonlight made my eyes water. Or maybe it was the hypocrisy.

"You look beautiful tonight," Damon murmured, his lips brushing my ear. "Like you were born to stand beside me."

Like a lamb, I thought. Dressed for slaughter.

I smiled and laced my fingers through his.

Across the clearing, Aldric Blackwood caught my eye. Damon's father was sixty-three, with silver-streaked hair and the cold gaze of an Alpha who had buried more challengers than he could count. His wolf pressed against the gathering—heavy, ancient, demanding submission from every wolf present. He studied me for a long moment—assessing, calculating—before turning back to address his pack.

Did he know? Did he suspect what his own son was planning?

After the gathering, the inner circle lingered beneath the oaks. Damon's hand rested on my lower back as we made the rounds—the Blackwoods' future Luna, presented like a prize.

Then Aldric appeared at my side.

"Seraphina. Walk with me."

It wasn't a request.

We strolled along the tree line where elder wolves once performed bonding rites. Two enforcers followed at a respectful distance, their wolves alert in the shadows.

"My son is fortunate," Aldric said quietly. "A Thornwood bride. Your brother's territory. A strong alliance."

"I'm the fortunate one, Alpha Blackwood."

He stopped beneath an ancient oak scarred by generations of claw marks. "After you're mated, I'll need you to guide him. Keep his wolf steady." His eyes met mine—amber bleeding into the human brown. "A good Luna can civilize even the most reckless Alpha."

A good Luna. As if I were a leash. A muzzle.

"I would be honored to support my mate," I said. "In whatever way the pack needs."

Aldric nodded slowly. "You have your mother's scent. Elena was always the clever one." He began walking back toward the gathering. "I hope you're clever enough to survive what's coming."

The words hung in the air long after he disappeared into the trees.

The next morning, I slipped away to meet Reid.

The old mill on Thornwood territory had been in our family for generations. Through the rusted doors, past the dormant machinery, was a chamber where no outside wolf could hear.

My brother was waiting. He looked like our father—dark hair, sharp jaw, the same stillness that could erupt into violence without warning. At thirty-two, he was already more feared than Papa had ever been.

He didn't rise when I entered. Just watched me with those calculating eyes, his wolf a quiet presence beneath the surface.

"Play it," I said.

I handed him the drive. He plugged it into a laptop, and Damon's voice filled the room.

Reid's jaw tightened. He listened to the whole thing—the supply routes, the mating ceremony timeline, the plans for our family's territory.

When it ended, silence.

"If we move now," he said finally, "we break the treaty. War between packs. Hunters crawling through our forests for years."

"If we do nothing, we lose everything. He's not just betraying our bond, Reid. He's selling us to Crimson Vale."

"So we handle it quietly. Hunting accident. Rogue attack."

"No." I leaned forward. "I want to do it at the mating ceremony. In front of everyone—all four packs, the Council elders, the witnesses. All of them watching when his lies come crashing down."

My brother's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because if I expose him privately, the Blackwoods bury it. They handle him quietly, and I become the loyal Luna who saved the Alpha's life—trapped in that bond forever as my reward." I held his gaze. "I want out. Completely. The only way that happens is if every wolf present sees what he is."

Reid studied me for a long moment. Then something shifted in his expression—respect, maybe. Or recognition of a predator he hadn't known existed.

"Alright. We do it your way." He leaned back. "But you'll need more than what's on that drive. Insurance. Something even the Blackwoods can't make disappear."

"I know someone who might help. Margot Ashford."

His eyebrows rose. "The widow? She doesn't grant audiences to anyone."

"She'll see me." I stood. "Mama was her goddaughter."

Two days later, I sat across from Margot Ashford in the stone cottage at the edge of neutral territory.

Margot answered the door herself—seventy-one years old, draped in charcoal wool, still striking in the way of she-wolves who had survived everything.

Her mate, Cornelius, had been Alpha of Alphas until his assassination fifteen years ago.

Everyone expected her to fade into grief, to let her wolf wither without her bonded mate. Instead, she'd become something else entirely: a keeper of secrets, the wolf you sought when you needed things done without leaving tracks.

"Seraphina Thornwood." She gestured me inside, her movements fluid despite her age. "You have your mother's face. That caged-wolf look. Elena had it too, toward the end."

I stiffened. "I'm not my mother."

"No." Margot's eyes glittered as she poured tea from an iron kettle. "Elena waited for your father to save her. You came to save yourself." She set down the pot. "What do you need?"

"Evidence. Enough to bury Damon Blackwood so deep he never climbs out."

"You have evidence already. I can smell it on you—you're carrying something sharp."

"I need more. Insurance."

She reached into a wooden box and withdrew a slip of paper. Aged parchment, elegant script. A single name in black ink: Thea Vance.

"Former Council investigator," Margot said. "Discreet. She specializes in finding things wolves try to hide." She slid the paper across the table. "She's helped females like you before. Females who mated into... complicated bloodlines."

I took it. "What do I owe you?"

"Consider it a gift. I was fond of your mother." She lifted her teacup, and her smile turned sharp. "Make him suffer, cara. It's the only language males like that understand."

That night, I sat in the dark of Damon's manor, the paper turning over in my fingers.

I thought about my mother's earrings, hidden in their velvet box.

About the way Damon slept beside me every night, his wolf rumbling in satisfaction, certain I would never be more than what he'd made me.

I pulled out my phone and began typing. His schedule. His meetings. His patterns.

Every trail a hunter needs to track her prey.