Florence Barnes POV: "Luna, it's terrible! Corbin... he ran away!" My bridesmaid and loyal maid Ruby burst through the heavy oak door of the church dressing room, her eyes red and her voice shaking as my fingers froze over the intricate lace of my wedding gown. My grip on the lipstick tube tightened until my knuckles turned white, and I dug my fingernails deep into my palm to keep my voice steady. "Catch your breath first. Who did he run away with?" Ruby bit her lip, hot tears splashing onto the back of her hand as she let out a furious hiss. "That wandering Rogue girl named Jesenia Dillon! They drove an off-road vehicle across the territory border overnight!" A loud buzzing filled my ears, and a bone-deep chill washed over my fragile Omega frame. In our world, genetics dictated hierarchy from birth; as an Omega at the bottom of the pack order, being abandoned at the altar for a packless Rogue was a death sentence for my reputation. Corbin Berger, the adopted Alpha heir of the Shadow Claw Pack, had just trampled my dignity into the dirt in front of the entire pack. Through the half-open door, the muffled whispers and shameless snickers of the guests in the main hall were already drifting down the corridor. Ruby rushed forward and grabbed my ice-cold hands, choking on her sobs. "Miss, let's slip out the back door! Before the Elders come to hold us accountable, we have to leave, or you'll become the laughingstock of the entire Shadow Claw Pack!" I slowly pulled my hands back from my loyal servant's grasp, staring into the vintage carved mirror at my pale face and the sharp glint hardening in my eyes. "Leave? The eldest daughter of the Barnes family never tucks her tail and runs." I stood up abruptly, ripped the heavy veil—a symbol of meek obedience—right off my head, and tossed it onto the dusty carpet. Ignoring Ruby's stunned gasp, I lifted my heavy hem and marched out of the dressing room in my twelve-centimeter heels down the long corridor toward the main hall. Wall sconces stretched my shadow across the red carpet like a blade. When I pushed open the massive carved doors of the sanctuary, the noisy hall fell dead silent. Hundreds of high-ranking werewolf eyes pinned me to the spot. Pity, mockery, and gloating thickened the air, and several lower-ranked Betas and Omegas didn't even bother hiding their derisive snorts. I straightened my spine, enduring the probing territorial pressure from all sides, and walked straight down the aisle toward the pure obsidian altar at the front. Atop the dais stood Dorthy Armstrong, the former Luna of the Shadow Claw Pack. Resting her hands on a rosewood cane, the silver-haired matriarch studied me with sharp gray eyes. I stopped at the bottom of the steps and lifted my chin. "Madam Dorthy, is the wedding still going to proceed?" Gasps rippled through the pews. Carie Campbell, who had married into the Campbell family's senior branch, shot to her feet with a shrill, venomous laugh. "Are you out of your mind? The groom ran off with a wild woman! Who do you think you're going to marry—the air in this church?" I didn't spare Carie a single glance. I dug my nails into my palm again, using the sharp sting to anchor myself as I locked eyes with Dorthy. Dorthy struck the stone floor hard with her cane, the heavy thud silencing the hall before she narrowed her eyes at me. "Florence, what do you propose?" I drew a deep breath into my tight chest and spoke clearly enough for every ear in the sanctuary to hear. "The blood contract between our packs is already signed. Since I am standing here today, I will leave carrying the Campbell name. Since Corbin fled, we simply change the groom." The hall erupted into chaos. Several Elders exchanged shocked glances, while the young Alphas looked on with wary amusement, terrified of getting dragged into this mess. Dorthy remained silent for a beat, a flash of approval crossing her aged eyes. "Well spoken. So long as an unmarried male of the Campbell family is willing, you may take your pick." Carie's face turned livid, and she immediately shoved her fifteen-year-old son Ari behind her back as if guarding him from a thief. I turned around, sweeping my gaze across the young Alphas and Betas without pausing on a single face for more than a second. I didn't want a pathetic substitute; I wanted supreme power that would crush Corbin under my heel. My gaze bypassed the younger generation entirely and locked onto the dark-gold throne in the center of the front row. Seated there in a tailored jet-black suit was a man with long, powerful legs crossed and slate-blue eyes as cold as a northern glacier. He was Conor Campbell—the billionaire CEO, Chief Magistrate of the Allied Werewolf High Tribunal, supreme Alpha of the Shadow Claw Pack, and Corbin's adoptive father. Following my gaze, the crowd plunged into a suffocating silence. Braving the terrifying Alpha Dominion that made my knees tremble, I walked up to his throne, stopped three paces away, and raised my finger to point straight at the tip of his nose. "A father pays his son's debts. Lord Conor, since your adopted son broke his oath, you can fulfill this wedding in his place." The air froze solid, yet Conor didn't lash out; he simply narrowed his deep slate-blue eyes and tapped his fingers twice against the mahogany armrest.

Florence Barnes POV: Conor stopped tapping the mahogany armrest and rose slowly to his feet. His 189-centimeter frame cast a suffocating shadow over me, sucking the remaining oxygen right out of the sanctuary. He looked down at me from his towering height, his slate-blue eyes devoid of anger, filled instead with the dark, calculating scrutiny of an apex predator sizing up its prey. Carie was the first to break the silence, her voice pitching into a shrill scream. "You've gone mad! You shameless Omega, how dare you set your sights on the Supreme Alpha!" Several Elders jumped up from their pews as well, barking harsh accusations that I was trampling on the sacred hierarchy of the Shadow Claw Pack. My calves trembled under the weight of the room's hostility, so I bit down hard on the inside of my lower lip until I tasted copper, refusing to take a single step back. A low, cold chuckle rumbled from Conor's chest. It wasn't loud, yet every shouting Elder and collateral relative snapped their mouths shut at once as if an invisible hand had choked them. "A father pays his son's debts?" Conor took a long stride forward, closing the distance between us until his overwhelming male heat and his signature scent of crisp cedarwood wrapped around me completely. Stopping less than half a meter away, he leaned down slightly, his deep voice vibrating against my eardrums. "Florence, are you quite certain you know who you are provoking?" I tilted my head back to meet his chilling gaze head-on. "I only know that an Alpha of the Campbell family never cowers from responsibility. Or does the Supreme Alpha lack the nerve to clean up the mess his own adopted son left behind?" Up on the obsidian altar, Dorthy suddenly let out a hearty laugh and tapped her cane against the stone. "Conor, the girl has a point. Corbin disgraced our pack's name. As his father, you do owe the Barnes family an explanation." Carie whipped her head toward her mother-in-law in disbelief, her voice rising eight octaves. "Dorthy! Conor is our Supreme Alpha! How could he possibly marry secondhand goods cast aside by his own son?" Conor's eyes turned to ice. Without even turning his head, he gave a single command: "Silence." With that low bark, the physical force of an Alpha's Command slammed through the hall like a shockwave. No lower-ranked wolf within the same Pack could physically resist an Alpha's Command, a biological law that only failed against outsiders or higher bloodlines. Carie's face drained of all color, her knees buckled, and she collapsed hard onto her chair, unable to make another sound. Watching the usually arrogant first-branch wife slump in utter humiliation sent a rush of fierce satisfaction through my chest. So this was what absolute power tasted like. Conor returned his gaze to me, his eyes flicking down to my white knuckles before he reached out and brushed his rough thumb across my tight jawline. A sharp tingle shot across my skin. Every instinct screamed at me to flinch away, yet I forced myself to stand still beneath his touch. "You want to be my Luna?" He lowered his voice so only the two of us could hear. "That throne isn't easy to sit on. It can tear you to pieces at any moment." I held his gaze without blinking. "So long as you dare to give it, I dare to keep it. The value I bring will far outweigh that runaway fool." Conor studied me for a long moment before withdrawing his hand. Turning to face the silent crowd, his expression hardened into absolute authority. "Since the Barnes family demands the fulfillment of the pact, the Shadow Claw Pack never defaults on a debt." Gasps echoed across the pews as the unmarried, iron-fisted Chief Magistrate unbuttoned his suit jacket with casual grace and walked toward the altar. "What are you standing around for? Prepare the Blood Oath." The officiating priest jolted and scrambled to fetch a ceremonial silver tray, only for Conor's voice to lash out like a whip. "Get that disgusting silver out of my sight." A dangerous shadow crossed Conor's face as the faint, jagged scar along the side of his neck seemed to throb. "Use the obsidian dagger." I noted his violent aversion to silver—the only substance in existence capable of burning werewolf flesh and destroying our inner wolves—remembering the rumors of an old injury he had suffered years ago. Dorthy smiled with satisfaction and swept her gaze over the guests. "From this day forward, Florence Barnes is the Luna of the Shadow Claw Pack." Under Conor's crushing aura, every guest in the hall bowed their heads in submission to their new matriarch. Exhaling a slow breath, I watched Conor turn back toward me and extend his broad, calloused palm.

Florence Barnes POV: Staring at the broad, rough-palmed hand Conor held out to me, I didn't hesitate for a second before placing my cold fingers into his grasp. The instant our skin touched, a violent jolt of electricity shot from my palm straight to my scalp, making my heart skip a beat. Conor's slate-blue eyes darkened, his grip tightening abruptly as his crisp cedarwood scent flared hot and heavy around us. Trembling, the priest stepped forward holding an obsidian tray carved with ancient pack totems, with a sharp black stone dagger resting in the center. Conor released my hand, picked up the obsidian blade, and sliced a deep gash across his own palm without blinking. Dark red blood welled up instantly. He handed the dagger to me, his gaze locking onto mine in one final, silent warning. I took the hilt, pressed the cold stone edge against my palm, and drew it across my skin. A sharp sting made my brows furrow as warm blood trickled down my lifeline. Conor caught my hand again, lacing his fingers tightly through mine so our bleeding palms pressed flush together. The moment our blood mingled, an intoxicating scent of cedarwood mixed with dangerous gunpowder hit my senses—a scent meant only for my soul. My blood boiled in my veins, goosebumps rose across my arms, and my knees went so weak that I would have collapsed right onto the altar if Conor's iron arm hadn't snapped around my waist to hold me up. An overwhelming sense of peace and wholeness flooded my hollow chest, as if my twenty-one years of solitary wandering had finally found an anchor, while deep inside my mind, my dormant inner wolf let out a fierce, possessive roar: "Mine!" Every adult werewolf knew the five undeniable signs of the Recognition Ritual gifted by the Moon Goddess—the scent, the physical surge, the soul's peace, the inner wolf's roar, and the electric sparks of first touch. I snapped my head up in shock, only to find Conor's breathing ragged and heavy, his slate-blue eyes swirling with barely restrained primal hunger. Even as his Alpha healing factor already began closing the cut on his palm while my weaker Omega flesh still bled, the truth hit me like thunder: the feared Chief Magistrate was my fated Mate. Standing beside us, Dorthy watched the fierce tension crackling between us with a knowing smile and raised her voice. "In the name of the Moon Goddess, the Blood Oath is sealed!" Deafening howls erupted from every wolf in the sanctuary, a primal chorus of submission and congratulations to their new Luna. Conor let go of my hand and pulled a dark gray silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, wrapping it around my bleeding palm with movements that looked rough yet felt remarkably gentle. "From this moment on, you are my wife." His low, gravelly voice brushed against my ear. "Don't make me regret today's decision." I forced down the frantic pounding in my chest and curved my lips into a flawless, polite smile. "Of course, my dear. I promise I will be a perfect Luna." During the toast that followed, I held Conor's arm as we moved through the hall. Carie approached us with a wineglass, her smile twisted and sour. "The new Luna certainly has impressive tricks, climbing to the top branch in the blink of an eye." I clinked my glass lightly against hers with a serene smile. "You flatter me, Carie. Since we are family now, I look forward to your guidance—as your elder in rank." The crushing weight of Conor's presence beside me forced Carie to swallow her bile and retreat with a stiff face. Yet halfway through the reception, I noticed Conor's complexion turning pale. An abnormal flush crept around the old silver scar on his neck, and his knuckles turned white around his crystal glass as his breathing grew labored. Realizing the prolonged release of his Alpha aura had triggered the backlash of his old silver wound, I covered the back of his hand with mine and turned to Dorthy. "Dorthy, Lord Conor has had a long day. I'd like to accompany him back to the penthouse to rest first." Dorthy caught on immediately and nodded. "Go on. I will handle things here. Take good care of him." Supporting half of Conor's heavy weight against my shoulder, I walked him out of the hall under hundreds of awe-struck gazes and stepped into the private elevator leading straight to the top floor of the headquarters tower.