Chapter 2

Nephele's POV

The wedding preparations felt like planning my own funeral.

Three months had passed since Mother's announcement about Magnus's "interest." Three months of fittings, arrangements, and pretending this was what I wanted.

Standing in the bridal chamber, I stared at my reflection. The ceremonial Luna gown was beautiful—silver silk that caught moonlight, intricate beadwork that told stories of ancient bloodlines. Everything a wolf girl should dream of wearing.

Everything except the silver collar hidden beneath the high neckline.

"For your protection," Mother had said when she fastened it around my throat. "Wolfless need... stabilization during important ceremonies."

The metal was cold against my skin. Cold and wrong.

"You look radiant, my dear," Mother said, adjusting my veil with practiced efficiency. Her purple eyes held satisfaction rather than maternal warmth. "Magnus will be pleased."

"Mother," I said quietly, "I'm scared."

Her hands stilled for a moment. "Fear is natural. But you're gaining something most Wolfless never dream of—status, protection, purpose."

"What if I can't be what he expects?"

"Then you learn quickly." Her voice carried warning beneath the silk. "This marriage benefits our entire bloodline, Nephele. Don't forget that."

The ceremony took place under the full moon, as tradition demanded. Both packs lined opposite sides of the sacred stone circle, and I could smell their mixed reactions—curiosity, disdain, confusion about why an Alpha would choose a Wolfless.

Magnus waited at the altar in full ceremonial regalia. He was more imposing than his photographs suggested—broad shoulders draped in black furs, chestnut hair swept back from aristocratic features. His steel gray eyes assessed me like a predator calculating prey's worth.

When he extended his hand, rings glinting on his fingers, his smile was perfect. "Welcome, future Luna."

But there was something underneath the courtesy. Something that made my birthmark burn beneath the silver collar.

The elder began the ritual, offering us the sacred moon dew cup. "Share this, symbolizing your souls' connection."

Legend said true mates felt their souls resonating when they drank the moon dew. All I felt was the cold brush of Magnus's fingers against mine and the bitter taste of herbs I couldn't identify.

"Relax," Magnus whispered as we prepared for the marking ceremony, his breath hot against my ear. "This mark is merely symbolic for a Wolfless. Not like you could truly feel the bond anyway."

The mockery in his tone should have warned me. Instead, I told myself it was nervousness making him cruel.

The marking bite was excruciating—far more painful than necessary. Through tear-blurred eyes, I caught the flash of satisfaction in Magnus's gaze, as though he enjoyed my suffering.

Across the circle, I met Fidelis's guilty gaze. My brother had returned from his Alpha training just for this ceremony, but the regret in his eyes told me everything.

He didn't believe this was right either.

The memory of him slipping into my preparation room earlier that day was still fresh. He'd pressed a small wooden box into my palm, his expression grim.

"Two things inside," he'd whispered. "The silver dagger is for protection. This—" He'd shown me a metal disc etched with Northwind runes. "This is for emergencies. If you're ever in mortal danger, crush the seal."

"But what if you're far away?"

He'd rolled up his sleeve, revealing a matching tattoo. "Alpha bloodlines are stronger than you know. I'll sense it, no matter the distance."

"Give me two years," he'd whispered fiercely. "Two years and I'll bring you home."

Now, as the ceremony concluded and I became Luna Nephele of Sovereign Pack, that wooden box felt heavy in the hidden pocket of my ceremonial robes.

The journey to Sovereign territory was a blur of silent formality. When we finally arrived, the sight was breathtaking—a sprawling compound nestled in Red Rock Canyon, gleaming with silver mine prosperity.

But beauty, I was learning, could hide poison.

Our arrival was met with formal ceremony. Pack members lined up to acknowledge their new Luna, and I caught the whispers:

"Wolfless Luna? How strange."

"What does the Alpha see in her?"

"She's pretty enough, I suppose."

A tall woman approached first, moving with deliberate sensuality. Cinder, the pack's Beta, wore leather that left little to imagination. Each step emphasized her curves as she positioned herself almost territorially close to Magnus.

"Welcome, Luna," she purred, but her eyes evaluated me like competition. "I hope you'll find everything to your satisfaction here."

Magnus's hand found my lower back with possessive pressure. "Our Luna comes from Northwind Pack. Though Wolfless, her mother Luna Ophelia has assured me of her... other valuable qualities."

Heat flooded my cheeks. He'd just announced my shameful status to everyone present.

"Smile, Luna," Magnus murmured, his grip tightening until it hurt. "You represent my choice now."

That first night should have been our wedding night. Instead, Magnus led me to quarters far from the Alpha chambers.

"These are your rooms," he announced coolly. "I prefer my privacy."

The message was clear: this was a marriage in name only.

By the second month, any illusions I'd harbored were gone. During my first council meeting, I'd suggested improvements to the pack's medical facilities.

"A Luna should focus on internal affairs," Magnus had declared, cutting me off mid-sentence. "Don't attempt to participate in Alpha decisions. Especially a Wolfless Luna."

The council members exchanged knowing glances while Cinder smiled with barely concealed satisfaction.

"Perhaps our Luna would be better suited to organizing festivals?" one woman suggested sweetly. "Something... simpler."

The humiliation was constant. Cinder became my daily tormentor, delighting in setting me up to fail.

Once, hours before hosting a visiting Alpha, she reassigned all the staff I'd scheduled for preparations. I spent that afternoon scrubbing floors and changing linens myself while wearing formal Luna attire. When I arrived at the banquet breathless and disheveled, Magnus's mockery was swift.

"Our Luna seems to struggle with time management," he'd announced coldly. "One would think that without a wolf's duties, she'd excel at simple human tasks."

The visiting Alpha had laughed. Others had joined in. I'd stood there, dressed in silk but smelling of cleaning supplies, while my husband humiliated me for sport.

After one year, the indignity became more public. During an important full moon celebration, I'd prepared to lead the traditional moonlight blessing as Luna. I'd spent weeks studying the ritual, determined to perform it perfectly.

As I began, Magnus suddenly rose, interrupting me mid-ceremony.

"Please forgive my Luna," he announced to the gathered crowd. "She doesn't understand true ritual. The Wolfless cannot sense the Moon Goddess's will."

He took the blessing cup from my hands, publicly pushing me aside to complete the ceremony himself.

Around us, guests whispered while Cinder led the subtle laughter.

That night crystallized everything: I wasn't his Luna. I was his trophy, displayed when useful and humiliated when he needed entertainment.

Two years of careful existence had taught me that invisibility was my best defense. I found purpose in small ways—improving conditions for Omegas, maintaining pack historical records—tasks beneath an Alpha's notice.

But today was different. Today, urgent trade documents required Magnus's signature, and duty compelled me to his study.

My soft knock met only muffled sounds. After a moment's hesitation, I pushed the half-open door.

The sight froze me in the doorway.

Magnus and Cinder, entwined on his desk. Documents scattered on the floor. Both naked and oblivious to my presence.

Magnus noticed me first but didn't stop. Instead, he met my eyes with deliberate challenge.

"Close the door on your way out, Luna," he said, never breaking rhythm. "Or perhaps you'd like to stay and watch how a real she-wolf pleases her Alpha?"

Cinder's mocking laughter cut through me, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

My stomach twisted. Not from jealousy—I felt nothing romantic for this man. But from complete humiliation. They didn't even have the decency to hide it.

Memories flooded back: the faint female scents clinging to him on mornings when our paths crossed. The knowing smirks from other she-wolves in the hallways. The way Cinder touched him publicly while I pretended not to see.

For two years, I'd told myself this was the price of political marriage. But this crossed every line.

They continued, shameless. A rage I'd never felt before rose in my chest. The star-shaped birthmark beneath my collar began to burn with strange heat.

Two years of tolerance. Two years of humiliation. Two years of pretending I was grateful for scraps of respect.

Enough.

I stepped forward into the room, my voice cutting through their shameless display like a blade.

"We need to talk. Now."