When My Mate Marked Another at Our Luna Ceremony

Three months. Three months since I'd been dragged through the mud and left to die. Three months since I'd lost everything—my pack, my status, my unborn pup. The forest had become my home, my prison, my battlefield.

I crouched behind a fallen log, my breath steady despite the hunger gnawing at my insides. The deer had been drinking from the stream when I spotted it—a young buck, unaware of the predator watching from the shadows. My fingers tightened around the makeshift spear I'd crafted from a broken branch.

*Now*, Luna whispered inside me.

I lunged forward, driving the spear into the deer's neck. It thrashed wildly, blood spraying across my face, but I held firm. This was how I survived now. No more ceremonies. No more pretense. Just kill or be killed.

"Nice kill," a rough voice called from behind.

I spun around, blood dripping from my chin. Five wolves emerged from the trees—low-level rogues by their unkempt appearance. Their eyes gleamed with hunger as they stared at my prize.

"Sharing is caring, sweetheart," the largest one sneered, taking a step forward.

I didn't recognize any of them. They weren't from Black Moon territory. That meant they didn't know who I was. Who I had been.

"The deer is mine," I said, my voice hoarse from disuse.

"Or what?" Another one laughed. "You'll call for your Alpha? Oh wait—you don't have one anymore."

They knew. Somehow they knew.

"Last warning," I growled, letting my wolf surge forward. My eyes flashed gold, my nails extending into claws.

The leader charged first. I ducked under his swing, driving my claws into his side. He howled in pain as I ripped through flesh. The second one came at me from behind. I spun and slammed my forehead into his nose, feeling it crunch beneath the impact.

The others rushed me together. I fought dirty—clawing, biting, using every dirty trick I'd learned in these months of survival. Blood soaked my clothes as I tore through them like a force of nature.

When it was over, four rogues lay unconscious or bleeding. The fifth crawled away, eyes wide with terror.

"Tell the others," I called after him, my voice carrying through the clearing. "Tell them the Black Moon traitor is not to be trifled with."

---

The border of my old territory was marked by a line of white stones—a warning to stay away. But I had something buried there. Something I needed.

I waited until nightfall before crossing into the forbidden zone. The scent markers made my wolf whine with nostalgia and pain, but I silenced her. We weren't here for memories.

The oak tree stood just as I remembered, its roots creating a natural hollow in the ground. I dug frantically with my hands until my fingers closed around a waterproof bag.

Inside were the documents I'd hidden years ago—insurance against a future I never thought would come. Among them was my mother's leather-bound diary.

I opened it with trembling hands, flipping to the pages I'd marked long ago. The handwriting was elegant but hurried:

*"Today I learned the truth about Richard's affair. The woman is a servant from the eastern territory. Their daughter is a year younger than Cleo. He wants to bring her into the pack, but I cannot allow it. Not after what happened to Cleo's position as heir. The girl will remain hidden, but I fear this secret will haunt us all..."*

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. Nina. My father's bastard daughter. The one who had stolen everything from me.

It wasn't just about Levi. It was about her taking my place, my identity, my birthright.

---

I was so focused on the diary that I didn't hear him approach until it was too late.

"Cleo."

The voice sent ice through my veins. I spun around, claws extended, ready to fight.

Dillon Graham stood ten feet away, his hands raised in surrender. The Beta of the Silverfang Pack looked exactly as I remembered—tall, broad-shouldered, his brown hair longer now and tied back.

"Stay away," I snarled, backing up.

"Cleo, it's me," he said softly. "I'm not here to hurt you."

To my shock, he lowered himself to his knees. A Beta—kneeling to me? A rogue? A traitor?

"What do you want?" My voice cracked with exhaustion.

Instead of answering, he lowered his head in submission. "I'm no threat to you."

Something in his gesture broke through my defenses. The diary fell from my hands as I stumbled backward.

"Cleo," he said again, rising slowly. "Come with me. The Silverfang Pack offers you sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?" I laughed bitterly. "There's no such thing."

"There is." His eyes held mine steadily. "Not as a prisoner. Not as a charity case. As a wolf who deserves freedom."

I wanted to run. To disappear back into the forest where no one could find me. But my body betrayed me, weakness overtaking my will.

"Freedom," I whispered, the word foreign on my tongue.

Then darkness claimed me, and I collapsed into his waiting arms.