He Chose Glass Over His Diamond Luna

Katarina POV: The annual Alpha Summit was a display of teeth and diamonds. The ballroom of the Grand Hotel smelled of expensive champagne, roasted venison, and the overwhelming, musk-heavy scent of fifty different Alphas marking their territory. It was a suffocating mix of ego and power. I walked in alone. Alessandro was somewhere ahead, likely parading Aria around like a prize poodle. I didn't care. I wore a gown of midnight blue velvet, heavy and regal. Around my neck hung the De Luca family heirlooms-emeralds that had belonged to Alessandro's grandmother. They were cold against my skin, grounding me. I held my head high. I was the Luna. Even if my husband treated me like furniture, the blood of the White Wolf demanded I show no weakness. "Luna De Luca," a deep voice purred. I turned. Antoine, the Alpha of the French lycan faction, bowed low over my hand. He ignored the empty space beside me where my mate should have been. "You look formidable tonight, Katarina," Antoine said, his eyes lingering on the emeralds. "Like a storm waiting to break." "The storm has already broken, Antoine. I'm just the aftermath." He chuckled and moved on. I took a glass of sparkling water, scanning the room. That was when I smelled it. Synthetic vanilla. Aria appeared from behind a pillar near the terrace doors. She wasn't wearing white tonight. She was wearing gold. It was flashy, tight, and completely inappropriate for a summit of this caliber. She waved me over. I shouldn't have gone. But the smirk on her face suggested she held a knife, and I needed to know how sharp it was. I walked to the secluded corner, my cane-a sleek ebony stick I used for my healing leg-clicking softly on the marble. "What do you want, Aria?" I asked. "Is your allowance gone already?" "You think you're so smart," Aria hissed, her voice dropping the sweet act. "Freezing the accounts. Recording my calls." My heart skipped a beat. She knew about the bugs? No, she was guessing. She was fishing. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said, keeping my face blank. "It doesn't matter," she said. She pulled a phone out of her clutch. "Because I have something that trumps money." She tapped the screen and shoved it in my face. The video was grainy, shot in low light. It was from two years ago. It was me. I was in the master bedroom, curled on the floor, sweating, my hair matted to my forehead. I was in Heat. The biological Heat is a sacred, agonizing time for a female wolf. It is when our bodies demand a mate to breed. It strips away logic and leaves only raw, aching need. It is private. It is holy. It is meant only for the eyes of a Fated Mate. In the video, I was reaching out to the person holding the camera. "Please," the video-Katarina moaned, her voice broken and desperate. "Alessandro... please... it hurts. Just touch me. Please." The camera shook as Alessandro laughed. Not now, Katarina. You look ridiculous. Aria pulled the phone back. She was grinning. "Imagine," she whispered, leaning in. "The Ice Queen, the perfect Luna, begging like a common bitch in heat. What would the Elders think? What would the press say?" The blood drained from my face. My hands turned to ice. "He gave that to you?" I whispered. "That is... that is a violation of the Mate Bond." Sharing images of a mate's Heat was a crime in the old laws. It was the ultimate betrayal of intimacy. "He thinks it's funny," Aria shrugged. "He showed it to me the first night we slept together. Said he wanted me to see what a 'desperate' woman looked like." She checked her nails. "Here is the deal. You go to the podium tonight. You announce that your health is failing. You step down as Luna. You name me as your successor." "You are insane," I breathed. "You have five minutes," she said, tapping her watch. "Or I send this to every tabloid in the city." I looked across the room. Alessandro was laughing with a group of Betas, holding a drink. He looked over, saw Aria cornering me, and quickly looked away. He knew. He wasn't just letting it happen. He had armed her. The pain in my chest wasn't heartbreak anymore. It was the sensation of a chain snapping. My wolf, Winter, stood up in the back of my mind. She shook off her slumber. She threw back her head and let out a soundless roar that vibrated through my very bones. No more, Winter growled. "Five minutes," Aria repeated. I looked at her. I looked at the phone. "No," I said.