After His Luna Murdered Our Daughter, I Escaped

I couldn't believe my ears when Lucien told me the news.

"Your old pack members can visit," he said, his voice carefully measured as he stood in the doorway of my Gilded Cage. "I've arranged for them to stay in the old warehouse by the docks."

I clapped my hands together, joy bubbling up inside me like the foam on ocean waves. "Really? Elena will come?"

"Yes," Lucien nodded, his expression softening slightly. "And some others from Moonhaven. But they can't enter the main estate."

"Why not?" I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

"They're... not suitable for polite company," he replied, straightening his tie. "This is a concession, Harper. Don't push for more."

But I was already too excited to care about his conditions. My pack—my family—was coming to see me! After five years of being locked away in this beautiful prison, I would finally see familiar faces.

*They're coming,* Silver whispered inside me, her presence warm with anticipation.

---

Three days later, I sat by the window in my lavish prison, humming a sea shanty my father taught me. The melody flowed from my lips as I gazed out at the city lights, imagining the ocean beyond them.

"*Yo ho, blow the man down,*

*Hoist the mainsail, set the jib...*"

I closed my eyes, feeling the gentle tug of familiar presences through our pack bond. They had arrived! I could sense Elena's fiery spirit, and others—nineteen in total—all bringing the salt-scent of home with them.

"Miss me, Cap'n?" Elena's voice echoed through our bond, making me giggle.

"So much!" I replied mentally, dancing around my room. "I wish you could see my room. It's so pretty, but it's not home."

"*Not home at all, no matter how they gild it,*" Elena agreed through our link.

I sang louder, my voice filling the empty room as I imagined sailing with them again, the wind in my hair and the spray on my face.

---

That night, I dreamed of home. Of waves crashing against the shore and the creaking of fishing boats. Elena stood beside me on the deck of my old vessel, laughing as we hauled in nets heavy with catch.

Then the dream shifted.

Heat. Searing, unbearable heat.

I gasped awake, my body drenched in sweat. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Silver?" I whimpered internally.

Her howl of anguish tore through my mind as flames erupted behind my eyelids. Not my flames—theirs. My pack. My family.

"NO!" I screamed, bolting upright in bed.

Pain unlike anything I'd ever felt ripped through me, nineteen different voices crying out in agony through our bond. I could feel their terror, their confusion, as flames consumed them.

"ELENA!" I shrieked, clutching my head.

I fell to the floor, my body convulsing as if the flames were licking at my skin too. Silver thrashed wildly inside me, trying desperately to reach our pack members through the bond.

"Save them!" I begged Lucien through our mate link, knowing he would feel my distress. "Please, save them!"

But there was only silence from him, and screams from my dying pack members.

One by one, I felt them go dark. Elena last, her final mental whisper cutting through the chaos: "*The warehouse... burning...*"

---

Morning came with gray skies and the acrid smell of smoke hanging in the air.

I lay curled on the floor where I'd collapsed, my throat raw from screaming. When the door opened, I didn't look up.

"Harper." Lucien's voice was heavy with something that might have been guilt. "I need to talk to you."

"The warehouse," I whispered, my voice breaking. "They're all dead."

He knelt beside me, his hands warm on my shoulders. "There was an accident."

I looked up then, searching his face for truth. "What kind of accident kills nineteen wolves?"

"They were smuggling explosives," he said firmly. "Planning an attack on Silvercrest territory."

"No." I shook my head violently. "They were fishermen, not fighters. Elena would never—"

"ENOUGH!" Lucien's Alpha tone slammed into me, forcing submission. "You will accept this explanation, Harper."

I tried to protest, but my voice wouldn't work against his command.

"They died because they were traitors," he continued, his eyes cold now. "And you will mourn them privately, without making a scene."

As he helped me to my feet, I caught a glimpse of something in his eyes—regret? Fear? But it vanished so quickly I couldn't be sure.

All I knew was that nineteen of my pack members were dead, and somehow, I had been made to believe they deserved it.