Christiana POV: I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Dhark Pack penthouse, holding a warm cup of black tea while the steam blurred my vision. Across the living room, the holographic projector played the top entertainment news of the night. "Tonight, Supreme Alpha Enzo Roy was spotted leaving an exclusive restaurant with actress Brittanie Cook, who recently returned to the country," the anchor announced. "Our footage shows Roy shielding Cook from photographers with his own jacket draped over her shoulders. His wife of five years, Luna Christiana, was notably absent. Neither Roy nor Cook has responded to requests for comment on their relationship." I set the teacup down on the glass table and hovered my trembling fingers over the control panel. On the floating screen, my husband, Enzo Roy—the Supreme Alpha of the Dhark Pack and billionaire CEO of Dhark Holdings—was shielding the famous actress and national sweetheart, Brittanie Cook, as they walked out of an exclusive restaurant. Enzo's broad, custom-tailored suit jacket was draped over Brittanie's frail shoulders. His usually cold, dark gray eyes held a rare indulgence I had never received in five years of marriage. My stomach dropped into a cold pit, and my fingers dug hard into the leather armrest of the sofa until my knuckles turned white. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to tell myself it was just media spin. Yet deep inside my chest, my inner wolf let out a restless, suffocating whimper, rejecting the image burning into my retinas. I took a deep breath and focused my energy, reaching out through the private Mind-Link that connected mated wolves. In our world, the Mind-Link allowed direct, soul-bound telepathy only between packmates or mates. We still used communicators for outside contacts, business calls, and formal appointments. "Where are you?" I projected my voice into the link. A freezing, heavy force slammed back into my consciousness, feeling like my knuckles striking a locked iron door. Enzo had raised a mental barrier on his end, blocking my reach without hesitation. I opened my eyes. My ice-blue pupils reflected the holographic footage of the two of them getting into his black town car, and a sour heat rose up the back of my throat. The double mahogany doors of the penthouse swung open softly. Hessie Abbott, our senior Omega housekeeper who had served the main estate for decades, walked in carrying a stack of envelopes sealed with the red wax crest of the Elder Council. Hessie kept her gaze fixed on the carpet as she placed the letters on the marble coffee table. "Luna, the Elders sent another formal inquiry urging the birth of a pureblood heir," Hessie whispered. I stared at the bright red wax seals. Five years ago, I had hidden my rare White Wolf bloodline and given up my legal career to become Enzo's Luna, yet failing to produce a pup remained my greatest weakness in this pack. "Leave them there, Hessie," I said, forcing my voice to stay level as my hand instinctively rested over my flat stomach, my fingertips quivering against the fabric of my dress. Hessie let out a quiet sigh and turned to leave the room. The second the doors clicked shut, the heavy mechanical thud of the private elevator echoed from the end of the hallway. I walked briskly from the living room toward the foyer, my high heels sinking silently into the thick wool runner. The motion-sensor lights in the entryway flickered on as Enzo stepped out. He brought a wave of early autumn chill with him, his wide shoulders and tall frame radiating the suffocating dominance of an apex Alpha. He did not look at me. He reached up to loosen his silk tie and casually tossed the suit jacket—the same one that had been wrapped around another woman on the news—onto the console table. I took two steps closer. Beneath his natural, crisp scent of cedarwood hung a thick, cloying trace of sweet lilies—Brittanie's signature scent. "Where were you tonight?" I asked, my voice dry in the spacious foyer. Enzo paused with his fingers on his platinum cufflinks, his dark gray eyes sweeping over me without warmth. "Corporate entertaining. Do you need to interrogate every item on my schedule?" "Does corporate entertaining require draping your jacket over Brittanie Cook?" I did not back down, keeping my gaze locked on the faint crease near the open collar of his dress shirt. His eyes darkened instantly. The crushing weight of an Alpha's Command—a genetic dominance that forces lower-ranking wolves in the pack into physical submission—rippled through the narrow hallway, making my lungs lock up. "Stop being dramatic, Christiana," Enzo warned in a low, freezing tone. "She just returned to the country and ran into some trouble with the press." "Trouble with the press? So you had to slam a wall into our Mind-Link just to protect her?" I ground my teeth together as the faded mating scar on the side of my neck throbbed with a dull ache. Enzo stepped forward, his towering shadow swallowing me whole as he looked down at me. "Know your place. You are still my Luna. Stop acting like a jealous shrew." The sheer indifference in his voice hit me like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. I stumbled back half a step, my spine hitting the cold marble wall. He did not spare me another glance, striding past me toward his study. The sharp click of his leather shoes against the floorboards echoed in my ears until the study door slammed shut with a heavy boom. I turned around and walked slowly back into the living room. My eyes fell on the stack of Elder Council inquiries again, and a suffocating heaviness pressed down on my chest. Picking up the top envelope, I broke the wax seal and unfolded the stiff paper. Every cold sentence accused me of having a weak wolf spirit incapable of bearing an Alpha heir. I crushed the letter into a tight ball and threw it into the fireplace. Watching the orange flames devour the paper, I pulled out my encrypted communicator and tapped the screen to open the appointment portal for the Healer Sanctum. Tomorrow, I would find out the truth about my body myself.

Christiana POV: After booking the medical slot, I walked from the living room into the master bedroom and lay awake through the freezing night. When morning sunlight slanted through the blinds across the king-sized bed, I reached out and touched the cold, flat sheet beside me. Enzo had never come back to the room. I pushed the duvet aside, got out of bed, and walked into the dressing room to pull on a modest beige trench coat to hide my exhausted face. Walking out of the apartment, I took the elevator down to the underground garage, climbed into the back of the black bulletproof SUV, and told the driver to head to the Healer Sanctum. As the vehicle pulled out of the Dhark Pack headquarters into the busy city streets, my stomach twisted tighter with every block we passed. When we arrived at the Sanctum, I walked up the steps and pushed open the glass door of the senior examination room. The harsh smell of disinfectant mixed with the bitter scent of wolfsbane hit my nose. Dr. Casper Petty, the pack's chief physician, sat behind his desk. He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, a flash of panic crossing his eyes before he masked it with a stiff professional smile. "Luna, the data from your medical chip is ready," Petty said heavily, sliding a glowing blue data chip across the desk. I picked up the chip and slotted it into the reader. Streams of complex biological metrics flashed across the holographic screen before settling into a single line of glaring red text: Severe Wolf-Spirit Trauma and Uterine Scarring. Conception Probability Near Zero. "That's impossible..." I whispered, my fingers clamping around the edge of the desk until my joints ached. "I am sorry, Luna. The hidden internal injuries from ten years ago have permanently destroyed your reproductive foundation," Petty said, lowering his head to avoid my eyes. The room spun around me as my inner wolf let out a hollow wail. Bracing my hands on the desk, I forced myself to stand and stumbled out of the examination room into the bright hallway. At the end of the corridor, Enzo stood outside the VIP ward, looking down at his communicator. I walked toward him quickly, desperate for a shred of warmth from my mate. "Enzo..." He looked up, his dark gray eyes devoid of any heat, and took half a step back as if I carried a contagious disease. "Is the checkup done? What are the results?" he asked in a flat, businesslike tone, as though inquiring about a quarterly financial report. I opened my mouth, the words about my shattered fertility rising to my throat, when a customized, high-pitched chime rang from his communicator—Brittanie's private encrypted ringtone. "It's nothing." I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat and straightened my spine. "Just a routine check." Enzo did not press further. He gave me a cold glance before turning away. "Don't be late for the pack banquet tonight. Maintain the dignity expected of a Luna." I watched his broad back disappear around the corner. A single hot tear spilled over my eyelashes, and I wiped it away roughly with the back of my hand. I walked out of the Sanctum, rode the SUV back to the estate, and sat before my vanity mirror while the stylists dressed me in a heavy black velvet gown that signified the authority of the Dhark Luna. At eight o'clock that evening, my car pulled up to the Royal Manor. Taking a slow breath, I walked up the grand staircase and pushed open the heavy banquet hall doors. The glare of the crystal chandeliers made my eyes ache. Across the hall, high-ranking wolves from allied packs were clinking glasses—note that no silver utensils ever touched a werewolf banquet table, as silver was our only fatal poison. The moment I stepped inside, the lively chatter froze for several seconds. I took a glass of champagne from a passing tray and walked toward a group of noblewomen I usually socialized with. As soon as Mrs. Beaumont, an Elder's wife, spotted me approaching, she turned her back, raised a feathered fan to cover half her face, and whispered to the women beside her with a sneer. I stopped in my tracks, my enhanced hearing picking up her deliberately loud voice. "Did you hear? She's a barren defective wolf who can't even carry a pup. Alpha Enzo is going to strip her from the pack registry any day now." My hand jerked, pale gold champagne sloshing over the rim onto my knuckles. Petty's diagnosis had only been issued this morning, yet the entire upper class already knew. Cold stares pressed against me from every corner of the room, making my skin prickle with humiliation. I locked my knees and stood my ground, refusing to run. Suddenly, the main doors of the banquet hall swung wide open again. A wave of cloying sweet lily scent rolled over the crowd. The guests parted automatically. My breath caught in my chest as I turned my head—Brittanie Cook was walking into my territory with her hand tucked securely into the crook of Enzo's arm.

Christiana POV: Brittanie wore a dazzling silver-white couture gown. The small red mole beneath her left collarbone stood out starkly against her diamond necklace as she leaned against Enzo like a proud swan. Enzo made no move to push her away. He stood under the flashing cameras and murmuring crowd without once scanning the room for me. My fingers tightened around the stem of my champagne flute. Drawing a deep breath into my tight chest, I stepped forward in my twelve-centimeter heels and walked straight toward them. "Enzo, you're late," I said, stopping a single pace away. My voice was calm, carrying the undeniable authority of the pack's Luna while positioning my body to cut Brittanie out of the reporters' camera angles. Enzo's brows drew together, but before he could speak, Brittanie covered her mouth and let out a soft gasp. "Oh, Luna! I am so sorry. I ran into some trouble on the road, so Alpha Enzo was kind enough to pick me up on his way here." She emphasized the words "on his way," releasing a thick wave of her lily scent to press against my senses in an obvious attempt to dominate me. "Is that so? What bad timing," I replied, looking at her with flat, cold eyes. "Though I don't recall the Dhark Pack sending banquet invitations to unranked outsiders." Brittanie's eyes turned red instantly, and she looked up at Enzo with a trembling lip. "Enzo, am I causing trouble for you?" "Enough, Christiana," Enzo snapped, a low pulse of his Alpha aura pressing against my chest. "She is my invited guest. Watch your attitude." My heart gave a sharp, painful squeeze at his public favoritism, but I lifted my chin higher. "Since she is a guest, have the ushers seat her in the visitor section." I turned my back on both of them and walked toward the head table, ignoring the burning stares following my every step. Halfway through the dinner, the heavy air in the hall became suffocating. I excused myself from the table and walked down the long marble corridor to the restroom to touch up my makeup. When I pushed the heavy door open, Brittanie was standing alone in front of the gilded mirror, applying bright red lipstick. Seeing me in the reflection, she dropped her fragile act immediately, her lips curving into a vicious sneer. "How much longer do you think you can wear that Luna crown, Christiana?" "At least it is still on my head tonight," I said, walking to the sink and turning on the faucet without looking at her. "Really? A barren waste of a wolf who can't even give the pack an heir—how long do you think Enzo will tolerate you?" she hissed, stepping closer to me with triumph gleaming in her eyes. I whipped my head around and locked my ice-blue gaze onto hers, letting a cold flash of my hidden bloodline surface. Brittanie flinched and stumbled a step back. "Don't celebrate too early, Brittanie," I said, pulling a paper towel to dry my hands. "Lies always rot from the inside out." She let out a sharp scoff and clicked out of the restroom in her heels. As she brushed past me, beneath her heavy lily perfume, my nose caught a faint, foul stench of decay—the unmistakable scent of a packless Rogue. Frowning at the disturbing smell, I left the restroom and walked out onto the quiet terrace to clear my lungs in the cool night breeze. "A solid counterattack, though heavy on defense and light on offense," a crisp, commanding female voice spoke from the shadows of the pillars. I turned to see a short-haired woman in a dark gray tailored suit stepping into the moonlight, leaning lightly on a carved ebony cane. It was Deanna Rhodes, the senior partner of Sterling & Thorn, the most powerful legal guild on the continent. "Ms. Rhodes." I nodded respectfully toward the iron lady of the high courts. "You graduated first in your class at the Supreme Law Academy, Christiana," Deanna said, walking up to the railing beside me with eyes as sharp as a hawk's. "Don't let a rotten political marriage dull your claws." "My claws were filed down by five years in the estate," I replied with a bitter curve of my lips. "The law never rusts as long as you still have the spine to wield the gavel." Deanna reached into her suit pocket and held out a gold-edged business card. "Sterling & Thorn always has a seat for you. Provided you are ready to crawl out of this decaying contract." My pulse sped up as I stared at the card. Taking it with steady hands, I slid it into my clutch. "Thank you, Ms. Rhodes. I will think about it carefully." When I walked back into the banquet hall, Brittanie was already gone. The memory of the Rogue scent clinging to her skirt kept my nerves pulled tight until the banquet ended late at night. I walked out to the manor entrance and waited on the cold stone steps for forty minutes before Enzo's car finally pulled up—bringing a freezing draft and a lily scent twice as thick as before.