Luna's Journey to Freedom

The medical supply closet smelled of antiseptic and dried herbs. I counted the vials of wolfsbane extract with practiced efficiency, cataloging each item in my mental inventory. Three bottles of healing salve. Two packets of silver nitrate for emergency wounds. One small blade, sharp enough to cut through rope—or flesh, if necessary.

"Just organizing the healer's supplies," I murmured to myself, practicing the lie I'd tell if anyone caught me. My hands moved steadily, but my mind raced through border patrol schedules I'd memorized over the past week.

Tuesdays: Eastern border, six guards, rotation at midnight.

Thursdays: Northern pass, four guards, blind spot near the old oak grove between two and three AM.

Saturday: The memorial grounds, completely unguarded—too sacred for patrol routes.

I slipped a small vial of scent masker into my apron pocket. The weight of it felt like carrying a loaded gun.

*We could run tonight,* Lyra whispered urgently. *The northern pass—*

*Not yet,* I replied, forcing my breathing to remain steady. *He'll sense any sudden change through the mate bond. We have to wait until he's distracted.*

The pack meeting announcement echoed through the hallways, Marcus's voice commanding attendance. Perfect timing. I closed the supply closet and made my way to the great hall, my bucket and cleaning supplies in hand—my shield of invisibility.

The hall buzzed with excitement. Pack members filled the rows of chairs while I took my position along the wall with the other Omegas, ready to serve refreshments. My eyes found Gideon immediately. He stood at the podium, his shoulders broad, his presence commanding despite his supposed weakness.

"Brothers and sisters of Silver Moon," he began, his voice carrying that perfect note of humility mixed with determination. "Three years ago, I lost my wolf in service to this pack. Many thought I should step down, that a wolfless Alpha could never lead."

Murmurs of sympathy rippled through the crowd. Sarah, the Delta's daughter who'd stepped over me this morning, actually dabbed at her eyes.

"But you stood by me," Gideon continued, his gaze sweeping the room. "You believed that strength comes not just from our wolves, but from our unity, our determination, our refusal to surrender."

I moved mechanically, pouring wine into crystal glasses, the burgundy liquid reminding me sickeningly of blood.

"Today, I stand before you with news that validates your faith." His voice rose with triumph. "The Council of Alphas has unanimously appointed me as Alpha King of the united territories."

The room erupted. Cheers, howls of celebration, pack members embracing. I continued pouring, my hands steady even as my heart shattered with each word.

"This is not just my victory," Gideon proclaimed, raising his hands for silence. "This belongs to every member of Silver Moon who endured these difficult years. To Beta Marcus, whose loyalty never wavered." Marcus stood, accepting the applause with a tight smile. "To our warriors who protected us despite having a weakened Alpha."

More cheers. I reached for another bottle, the motion automatic.

"And yes," Gideon's voice softened, "to those who sacrificed the most. To the memory of my son, Oliver, whose loss reminded us that even in our darkest moments, we must persevere."

The wine bottle slipped slightly in my grip. I caught it before anyone noticed, but inside, Lyra snarled with rage.

*He dares speak Oliver's name?*

*Steady,* I told her, though my own fury threatened to consume me. *We can't show anything. Not yet.*

Carla Brooks rose from her seat in the front row, gliding toward Gideon with practiced grace. She wore a silver dress that caught the light—a future Luna's dress. She placed her hand on his arm, a gesture of public claim, and my stomach turned.

"The coronation ceremony will take place next week," Gideon announced, Carla beaming beside him. "Representatives from all territories will attend. Silver Moon will show them what true strength looks like."

As the crowd surged forward to congratulate their Alpha, I retreated to the serving station. My hands moved automatically, refilling platters, replacing empty bottles. Each task a small anchor keeping me from drowning in the tsunami of rage and grief threatening to pull me under.

"Omega." Carla's voice cut through my focus. She stood before me, her empty glass extended. "More wine."

I met her eyes as I poured, searching for any sign she knew the truth. But her gaze held only dismissive superiority, the look of someone who'd won a game her opponent didn't know they were playing.

"Congratulations on the Alpha King appointment," I said quietly, my voice perfectly neutral.

"Thank you." She studied me for a moment, her lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Some of us were born for greatness. Others... well, they serve their purpose in different ways."

She walked away, leaving me holding the wine bottle, its weight suddenly unbearable. Around me, the celebration continued—a feast built on lies, a crown earned with blood.

My son's blood.

I set down the bottle carefully, deliberately, and returned to my place against the wall. Let them celebrate. Let Gideon bask in his false triumph.

Soon, very soon, I would disappear like smoke in the wind. And he would learn what it truly meant to lose everything.