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Sent to Die: The Defiant Luna's Revenge Novel Cover

Sent to Die: The Defiant Luna's Revenge

Rogues broke into the Pack House, holding a silver knife to my throat while another captive held Brooke, the so-called "Seer." The Rogue leader gave my Alpha, Harrison, three seconds to choose who lived. Without hesitation, he commanded, "Save Brooke." I was gutted with a silver blade and left to bleed out on the carpet while he cradled her. Miraculously, I survived, only to find he had already replaced me. He claimed Brooke was pregnant with his heir—something he said I, a "defective" Omega who couldn't shift, could never give him. To protect his reputation and clear the way for his new Luna, he didn't just exile me. He drugged me with Wolfsbane and threw me onto a fishing trawler rigged with explosives. As the timer ticked down in the dark cargo hold, I finally understood the depth of his cruelty. Years ago, when I miscarried our actual child alone on the bathroom floor, begging for him through the mind-link, he hadn't just ignored me—he had blocked me to pick up his mistress. The boat exploded, turning the ocean into fire. Harrison stood on the cliff, watching me burn, satisfied that his problem was gone. But he forgot that my bloodline doesn't perish in fire. Six months later, I walked back into the Council Hall. I wasn't the weak Omega anymore. I was the legendary White Wolf. And on my arm was the Lycan King—the one man Harrison feared most. "Hello, Harrison," I smiled. "I believe you're sitting in my seat."
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Chapter 3

Ava POV:

I woke up from a fever dream where Harrison stood at the Moon Goddess's altar, his mouth moving in silent vows, but his face kept shifting into a skull.

My wrists were raw, scabbing over with that ugly black tint that silver leaves behind. He had untied me sometime in the early morning, likely when he crept back in to change his shirt, but he hadn't woken me.

I dragged myself to the bathroom. My reflection was a stranger. Pale skin, dark circles under eyes that used to be bright green but now looked like stagnant moss.

I went downstairs. I needed water.

Harrison was in the kitchen. He was cooking. Bacon, eggs, pancakes. The smell turned my stomach.

"You're up," he said, flipping a pancake. He sounded cheerful. Manic, almost. "I made breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," I rasped, leaning against the doorframe for support.

"It's not for you," he said, not looking up. "It's for Brooke. She's having a hard time. The attack triggered her PTSD."

"Her PTSD?" I laughed, a dry, broken sound. "I have a hole in my stomach, Harrison. My wrists are burned because of you."

He slammed the spatula down. "Stop making this about you, Ava! Brooke is a Seer! Her mind is fragile. The trauma blocked her visions. If she can't See, the Pack is blind."

"So she's an asset," I said. "And what am I?"

"You're... difficult," he muttered, plating the food.

"Where is she staying?" I asked, though I already knew.

"The guest room across from ours," he said. "I need to be close in case she has another episode."

Of course. Across the hall. So he could hear her every whimper.

Just then, the kitchen door swung open. Brooke walked in.

She was wearing one of Harrison's oversized t-shirts. My stomach lurched. That was my favorite shirt. The one I wore when I was sick.

"Oh, Ava," she said, her voice breathy and fake. She brought a hand to her mouth. "You look... terrible. Does it hurt?"

"Take off the shirt," I said.

Brooke looked at Harrison, her eyes filling with instant, practiced tears. "Harrison... I didn't know... I just grabbed the first thing I saw..."

"It's fine, Brooke," Harrison soothed her, glaring at me. "It's just a shirt, Ava. Grow up."

He picked up the tray of food. "Come on, let's go eat on the patio. The fresh air will help your visions."

They walked past me. Harrison, the Alpha who demanded strength, waiting hand and foot on a woman who was clearly manipulating him.

"Oh, by the way," Harrison paused at the door. "Get dressed. Something nice. We're taking the yacht out this afternoon."

I blinked. "The yacht?"

"Yes. Just us," he said, his eyes softening slightly, a glimmer of the man I used to love appearing. "We need to talk. To fix this. I know I've been... stressed. Let me make it up to you. A sunset cruise."

A tiny, treacherous part of my heart sparked. Maybe he realized. Maybe he saw how crazy this was.

"Okay," I whispered.

I wore a white sundress, carefully applying makeup to hide the pallor of my skin. I bandaged my wrists and wore long sleeves to cover them.

I drove down to the pier, my heart fluttering with a mix of anxiety and hope.

The Silver Moon , Harrison's yacht, bobbed in the water.

Harrison was waiting on the dock, looking handsome in his deck shoes and linen shirt. He smiled when he saw me.

"You look beautiful, Ava."

He reached out a hand to help me onto the boat. For a second, just a second, I felt the spark. The bond trying to repair itself.

Then I heard the car door slam behind me.

I turned.

Brooke was stepping out of a taxi. She was wearing a bikini top and a sheer sarong, carrying a massive beach bag.

"Hey guys!" she waved, bouncing down the dock.

I froze. I looked at Harrison. "You said 'just us'."

Harrison rubbed the back of his neck, looking annoyed-not at her, but at me for making it awkward. "Her car wouldn't start. She was afraid to be alone at the Pack House because of the Rogues. I couldn't leave a Pack asset unprotected, Ava. Be reasonable."

"Reasonable?" I stepped back. "She's coming on our 'date'?"

"It's not a date, it's a... team building exercise," Harrison said, his voice hardening. "Get on the boat, Ava."

Brooke skipped up to us, linking her arm through Harrison's. "Thanks for letting me tag along, Harry. The water helps me connect to the Moon Goddess."

Harry. She called him Harry.

I looked at the boat. I looked at the water. I should have turned around and driven away.

But the Alpha Command pushed against my mind. Board the vessel.

My legs moved against my will. I stepped onto the deck, feeling like I was walking onto a floating coffin.

"Let's have some fun!" Brooke squealed.

I watched Harrison guide her onto the deck, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. I stood there, the third wheel in my own marriage, the wind from the ocean feeling colder than ice.

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