My Husband Tried to Make Her Luna

The small vial felt heavy in my palm as Dr. Rivers examined it under the microscope. His weathered face was illuminated by the lamp, casting shadows that danced across his concerned features.

"It's a match," he finally said, looking up at me with grave eyes. "The wolfsbane strain in this sample is identical to the traces I found in Alpha Richard's tissue samples."

I closed my eyes, Goldie howling in grief within me. "You're certain?"

Dr. Rivers nodded, his voice steady. "I ran the tests three times. This particular strain of wolfsbane is rare—it's cultivated in only one location on the East Coast."

"Christian's private greenhouse," I whispered, the pieces falling into place. "Marcus found the plants there."

Parker's hand found mine under the table, his touch grounding me as rage threatened to consume Goldie and me both.

"We have enough evidence," Parker said, his voice low and certain. "The Lycan Council can't ignore this."

I opened my father's journal, pointing to the final entry. "And this proves he knew Christian was poisoning him."

Dr. Rivers carefully collected the vial, placing it in a sealed evidence container. "I'll keep this safe until the Grand Gathering."

---

"The Grand Gathering is our only chance," I said, spreading the territorial maps across Parker's desk. "All the neighboring Alphas will be there, along with the Lycan Council."

Parker nodded, his amber eyes studying the layout of the Silver King Pack House. "If we move against Christian before the Gathering, he can claim we're rogues attacking a legitimate Alpha."

"And during the Gathering, the Council will witness everything," I finished. "They can't ignore a formal rejection performed before them all."

Parker moved behind me, his presence warm and solid. "You'll need strength for this, Elena. The rejection will drain you."

I felt his proximity like a physical touch, Goldie stirring within me. "I know."

His hands hovered near my shoulders, not quite touching. "Let me mark you before the Gathering. My strength combined with yours would ensure—"

"No." I stepped away, turning to face him. "I need to do this as Elena King, daughter of Alpha Richard. Not as your mate."

Parker's expression softened, understanding in his eyes. "I'm not trying to claim you, Elena. I'm offering you strength."

"I know," I repeated, my voice softer. "But I need to stand alone when I reject him. I need the pack to see me as their Alpha, not as someone who needed rescuing."

---

The nightmare came without warning—silver chains burning into my flesh, Christian's laughter echoing in the darkness, my father's lifeless eyes staring at me in accusation.

"You failed me," he seemed to whisper. "You chose wrong."

I bolted upright in bed, gasping for air that wouldn't come. The cabin walls closed in around me as memories of the cellar flooded back—the darkness, the helplessness, the betrayal.

"Elena." Parker's voice cut through my panic as he appeared in the doorway. "Breathe with me."

I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. My chest constricted as if bound by invisible chains.

Parker crossed the room in two strides, but instead of gathering me into his arms as I expected, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet.

"Enough," he growled, his eyes flashing amber. "Your wolf is stronger than this."

I stared at him, uncomprehending. "I can't—"

"Can't or won't?" he challenged, stepping back and gesturing to the open space between us. "Your father didn't raise a victim, Elena. He raised an Alpha."

Goldie surged within me, responding to his challenge. Without thinking, I lunged forward, my body remembering instincts that had been suppressed too long.

Parker blocked my attack with practiced ease, but I was ready. I feinted left, then swept his legs from under him. We crashed to the floor, my body pinning his, my forearm across his throat.

"Submit," I growled, feeling Goldie's power flow through me.

Parker's smile was fierce as he yielded. "Never to anyone but you."

---

The pre-Gathering banquet glittered with false opulence. From my hidden vantage point in the shadows of the great hall, I watched Christian hold court, his arm possessively around Anya's waist.

She wore my mother's emerald necklace—the one Christian had promised would never leave our family line.

"More wine," Anya commanded, snapping her fingers at an Omega server who hurried to obey.

The young Omega's hands trembled slightly as she poured, and a few drops splashed onto Anya's designer dress.

"You clumsy little bitch!" Anya shrieked, slapping the girl hard across the face. "Do you know how much this costs?"

The Omega cowered, tears streaming down her face. "Please, Luna, I'm sorry—"

"I am not Luna yet," Anya hissed, though her eyes gleamed with anticipation. "But when I am, you'll wish you'd never been born."

A glass shattered against the wall. Estelle Blackwood stood there, red wine dripping from her fingers onto the marble floor.

"How clumsy of me," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "But then, I've never been good with serving tools."

Anya's face contorted with rage. "You did that on purpose! Christian, she needs to be punished!"

Christian's eyes narrowed at Estelle, recognition dawning. "You're Marcus's mate."

"Was," Estelle corrected coldly. "Before you had him executed for questioning your authority."

The room fell silent. Even Christian's most loyal supporters shifted uncomfortably.

"Take her to the punishment room," Anya demanded, her voice shrill. "Have her whipped until she learns respect!"

But no one moved. The Deltas exchanged uncertain glances, and even Christian's Beta looked away.

In that moment of hesitation, I saw it clearly—the cracks in Christian's power, the first signs of his control slipping away.