Chapter 2

Five years ago—

“Congratulations, Macie. You will be the most suitable luna our pack could ever have.”

Grandmother raised a finely cut crystal glass, her voice carrying clearly along the entire length of the table so that every wolf could hear. Candlelight reflected in her silver hair, like the Moon Goddess herself was blessing this engagement.

My parents exchanged a knowing smile, their expressions certain, as if this marriage had been carved into the family records long ago.

I didn’t say yes.

In fact, I said nothing at all.

And of course, they never asked Miranda.

In this family, Miranda was the one protected—the princess most cherished by the Silverfang pack. Her future was full of choices, while mine held only the path already laid out for me.

“She’s too sensitive, not suited for the responsibilities of a luna,” my father told me the night before the engagement. “You’re steady, practical—the kind of alpha’s wife who can be relied on.”

In their eyes, I was not a daughter, but an investment.

The first time I met Alpha Vincent was at a family dinner hosted by my grandmother.

He walked in wearing a sharply tailored suit, his gaze steady, his jawline tense—the alpha presence so heavy it silenced the entire room.

He extended his hand, the grip just right, as though he were forging an alliance with an important business partner rather than greeting his future mate.

“Macie.” His voice was low, his gaze resting on me for only a heartbeat. “You will be well taken care of.”

“That sounds… secure,” I replied, forcing the disappointment into the curve of my smile.

From the first moment, I understood that, like me, he had not chosen this marriage.

But whatever he wanted, it was not in me.

Or perhaps, what he needed was my position—not the person I was.

His family wore polite smiles in public, but behind them was the look of an alpha assessing prey.

A week before the bonding ceremony, I happened to pass by the study and heard his cousin Lily on the phone.

“I still can’t believe they chose Macie,” she laughed. “If it were Miranda, we’d have real leverage. Macie… she’s not terrible, just boring.”

I should have walked away.

But I didn’t.

I stood there, each word slicing across my chest like claws.

Our bonding ceremony was grand, attended by members of the Elder Council, the Moon Goddess’s sacred emblem hanging high above.

I wore a pure white gown, the mark at the side of my neck tingling—that sign that I was about to form a permanent mind link with my alpha.

But Vincent didn’t look at me during the vows. His gaze passed over me and fixed on the officiant, as if silently counting the seconds until it was over.

Just before the kiss, he leaned down and murmured, “Smile.”

I did, because the entire pack was watching.

In the first year of bond, I spent every ounce of strength trying to keep up the facade of harmony.

We sat at the same table, but rarely spoke.

We slept in the same bed, but never touched.

He always came home late, carrying scents that weren’t blood—scents that belonged to other omegas.

One quiet dinner, I finally asked, “What do you want from this marriage?”

Without even lifting his eyes, he said, “Stability.”

“I want love,” I told him.

“Love isn’t for us,” he replied, in the tone of a negotiation that had already failed.

By the second year, the pretense had completely collapsed.

His family no longer bothered to feign respect. Lily openly mocked me at a pack gathering: “Say less tonight—a quiet luna is always more likable.”

“So I’m just decoration,” I said evenly.

“Oh, Macie, you really are slow,” she laughed.

When I told Vincent what she’d said, he only shrugged. “She’s my cousin. Don’t waste your energy on things like this.”

I remember the night of the charity gala.

I wore a red gown—Miranda’s favorite color.

Vincent looked at me, started to speak: “You look…”

I waited.

“Never mind,” he said, turning away.

I knew he’d been about to say, You remind me of her.

Then there was the rainy night when he came home drunk, collapsing onto the sofa.

When I tried to help him up, he grabbed my wrist, the grip so tight it nearly crushed bone.

“Why not you…” His gaze was unfocused, his throat working. “Why can’t you be like her…”

The rest was swallowed by the smell of alcohol, but I saw the redness in his eyes—that rawness I had never seen before, and it wasn’t for me.

When he let go, my wrist bore five dark bruises, like a shameful brand.

The next morning, when he saw the marks, he said simply, “Sorry, I was drunk.”

I looked straight at him. “You called her name last night.”

He froze, then adjusted his tie. “You misheard.”

“I didn’t.” I stepped closer, meeting his evasive eyes for the first time. “Vincent, how long have you been treating me as her shadow?”

He didn’t answer—just slammed the door and left. He didn’t come home for two weeks.

A year later, I asked outright: “You love her, don’t you?”

He was unbuttoning his shirt, not pausing in the motion.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

“I want the truth.”

He looked at me, his eyes as cold as a moonless night. “And what will you do if you know?”

“I’ll make everything different.”

He said nothing, walking into the bathroom.

Miranda never contacted me after she left.

She missed my wedding, my birthday, even our grandmother’s funeral.

Rumors spread through the pack—some said she had bonded with a powerful alpha in the outer lands, others claimed she had undertaken a special trial from the Moon Goddess.

I grew used to being the “stand-in luna,” until five years later, she returned.

That night, at the pack banquet, Vincent saw her across the crowd, and in an instant his eyes lit with a fire—one that had never belonged to me.

“You look well,” he said, his voice laced with a rare tenderness.

He had never spoken to me that way.

Miranda came over, hugged me, her voice syrupy sweet: “Thank you for keeping my place warm all these years, sister.”

I pushed her back slightly, keeping my smile. “I’m not your omega, Miranda.”

“No, you’re my only substitute,” she laughed, striding toward Vincent.

They thought I would be silent, as I always had been.

But they didn’t know—in these five years of silence, I had learned other things. How to fight back in the games of the pack. How to make others pay.

I overheard them whispering behind closed doors—plotting to pin the pack’s financial troubles on me, and cheating, to make the Elder Council doubt my position, to force me to sever the bond myself.

They thought I was weak.

They forgot that once a silent luna strikes, she is no longer prey.

I lifted my head, looking toward Vincent and Miranda standing in the center of the hall, and made a silent vow:

This time, they would learn that a luna bites—and when she does, she bites deep.