Alpha’s Breeding Mare🔥

1

Sylvie

Today was the day my half-sister, Violet, would marry Alpha Gideon.

Gideon was the Alpha of the Phantom Moon Pack. They were the most powerful and ruthless wolves in the state. My pack, Oak Heart, was tiny. We had barely two hundred members left. We were poor, our borders were weak, and rogue wolves attacked us constantly. This wedding was our only hope for survival. If Violet married Gideon, his warriors would protect our land. If the wedding fell apart, Oak Heart would be wiped off the map.

I stood in the packhouse garden, smoothing the skirt of my plain grey bridesmaid dress. Outside on the lawn, rows of white chairs were filled with guests. Half the crowd belonged to Oak Heart, looking nervous and hopeful for our future. The other half were Phantom Moon warriors. They wore dark suits, stood tall, with black shades hiding their dangerous expressions, and were… extremely scary.

Alpha Gideon waited at the altar. He was a big and tall man with dark hair and sharp, indiscernible eyes—they reminded me of ice. I heard it snowed all the months of the year there, and ironically, Violet loved beaches and the warm sun.

He checked his expensive watch (that cost the monthly budget of our pack), wondering why the heck my sister was late to her wedding.

Oddly, he and I shared the same thought.

He did not look happy while waiting for his bride.

"Where is she?" Gideon growled at his Beta.

A chill ran down my spine as I heard his scary voice. How will Violet bear this brute? He’s just as rumours defined him… cold, cruel, rude… my sweet sister doesn’t deserve this…

If someone told me I would marry this brute, I would choose to be banished from my pack rather than be a sacrificial lamb…

There were only two things I loved: ballet and Mike.

I’ve been trained in ballet by my birth mother since I was a baby, and when she passed away, dancing remained the only way to remember her.

And Mike… my sweet love and mate, Mike—our mothers were best friends, and naturally we fell in love over time, and imagine my shock when he turned out to be my fated mate.

Back to the present…

The ceremony was supposed to start an hour ago, but again Violet, the bride, was missing.

Violet had been acting strange for days. She barely ate at the rehearsal dinner and refused to talk to anyone.

I thought she was just nervous. An arranged marriage was hard enough, but marrying a terrifying Alpha like him… it would make anyone vomit in anxiety.

But now, my gut told me something was seriously wrong.

I looked around and noted that my mate, Mike, was not around as well…

Where are you, Mike? I tried to mindlink, but I felt a dead signal, which should have been a cue, but I was too dumb to notice anything.

"I will go check on her," I whispered to one of the other bridesmaids as I saw the cruel groom about to set fire to the venue—metaphorically.

I hurried back into the main packhouse. As I reached Violet’s bedroom door, I heard a familiar voice—choking and crying, as if scared someone would hear her.

As I pushed the door open, my stepmother, Claudia, sat on the edge of the bed. Her face was as white as a sheet. Violet’s expensive, custom-made wedding dress that Papa spent his last savings on hung untouched on the closet door.

Violet was nowhere to be seen.

"Claudia?" I asked, stepping into the room. "Where is she? The Alpha is losing his patience."

Claudia did not speak, just cried and held out a piece of paper. Her hands shook violently as she handed it to me.

I took the paper. It was written in Violet’s cursive handwriting. As I read the words, I felt as if I lost my control while I was spinning perfectly in the air…

[Dear Mother,

I cannot do this. I cannot marry Alpha Gideon and live a lie. Life with him will be nasty, brutish, brutish, and short. I love someone else. Mike. I know Father will kill me… I know the punishments he will impose on everyone… Mother, I am sorry for being a bad daughter… I love Mike. I am pregnant with his child… Mike and I have been planning this for months. We are leaving to raise our child with love, something that can never be achieved with a father in our lives. We will go far away where our past can never find us. I am sorry, but I choose love.

I love you and Sylvie! Tell her I am sorry for hurting her like this.

—Violet.]

The paper slipped from my fingers. "No," I breathed. "This has to be a joke."

But it was not a joke. Violet was gone. And she had taken Mike with her.

Mike. My lungs forgot how to work. Mike was a border guard for our pack. But more than that, he was my fated mate. We had found each other when we were teenagers. We were supposed to build a life together. Just yesterday, he told me he needed to go on a long patrol to clear his head. It was a lie. He was packing his bags to steal my sister.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely unlock the screen. I dialed Mike’s number. He answered on the second ring.

"Sylvie," he said.

"Tell me this is a nightmare," I said, my voice cracking. "Tell me you didn't take Violet."

"I'm sorry, Sylvie. Violet and I love each other. We are meant to be together. I never wanted to hurt you… but this is fate.”

"You are my mate!" I yelled. Tears finally spilled over my cheeks. "You chose me!"

"Not anymore," Mike replied. "I reject you, Sylvie. I reject our bond."

The pain hit me like a speeding truck. When a mate bond is broken, it destroys you from the inside out—I always felt like I was the champion of balance, but slowly I was losing it all… even in the dance of life.

I dropped to my knees on the bedroom floor, gasping for air.

Agony burned through my veins.

Frustration and dread knocked at my heart.

Silence choked my throat… I could not speak.

"Mike, please."

"Do you know what you are doing? Gideon will kill our whole pack for this! You are leaving us to die!"

"I am just a guard," Mike said softly. "My choices are my own. I chose Violet and my child. Please do not try to find us."

The call ended.

I threw the phone across the room, and it shattered against the wall.

"Get up," Claudia whispered as she grabbed my shoulders and hauled me to my feet. "We do not have time for a broken heart. Look out of the window."

I dragged myself to the glass. Outside, Alpha Gideon was pacing near the altar. The Phantom Moon warriors were whispering among themselves. Their hands rested near the weapons hidden under their jackets.

They were ready for a massacre.

"If we do not give him a bride, he will take it as an insult against him and his pack," Claudia said. Her voice was pure panic. "This is a case of a broken treaty. He will demand blood. He will kill your father and all the other men… When all the men and warriors are dead, the rogues will come for us, women, children, and the elderly. We will be raped, beaten, forced into slavery… He will burn Oak Heart to the ground."

She was right. Pack alliances were sacred. Breaking one on the wedding day was a declaration of war. Oak Heart would not last five minutes against Phantom Moon.

Heavy footsteps pounded the hallway.

"Claudia!" My father’s deep voice boomed through the wooden door. "Bring the bride out now, or I am coming in."

Claudia looked at the door and then at Violet's perfect white dress. Finally, she looked at me. I saw the crazy idea spark in her eyes before she even opened her mouth.

"No," I said, backing away. "Claudia, whatever you are thinking, no."

"You are the same height," she said, stepping toward me. "You have the same build. You will fit right into it."

"Alpha Gideon will know!" I cried. "He will kill me!"

"He has only met Violet three times! Always from a distance," Claudia pleaded. She grabbed the opaque lace veil from the vanity. "The veil covers the face completely—we will say it's the tradition of Oak Heart that a bride is veiled until the wedding. You just need to walk down the aisle and get through the ceremony so he doesn't slaughter us today. Please, Sylvie."

I whispered with wide eyes, "This is insane."

"It is the only way we all can survive!" Claudia shoved the wedding dress into my hands. "Do it, Sylvie. Save the innocent members of the pack. We are a family…"

The handle on the bedroom door began to turn.

"Claudia!" My father barked. "I am done waiting. Bring out your daughter!"

My father was a cruel man; I’ve seen my stepmother taking beatings from him on our behalf. He didn’t care that the groom was waiting outside; he could hurt her even here.

Violet and Mike had just ruined my life. I had nothing left to lose, but my pack had everything to lose. I cannot let my pack, who raised me, loved me, and cared for me, be slaughtered because of my sister’s mistake.

"Fine," I whispered, stepping into Violet’s wedding gown. "Put the veil on me."

Little did I know the wedding was just the beginning of my personal hell.

And what did I say about banishing

2

Sylvie

Claudia’s hands shook as she zipped up the wedding gown. Tears streamed down her cheeks, ruining her makeup. Claudia was not a cruel woman. She had raised me since I was a little girl, and she loved me just as much as she loved Violet. This was breaking her heart. One daughter ran away, and another was being served as a sacrificial lamb.

"I am so sorry, Sylvie," Claudia cried softly. She cupped my face with warm but trembling hands. "I hate myself for asking you to do this. It is completely unfair to you."

"We have no choice, Claudia," I whispered. My own heart was shattered from Mike's betrayal, but I had to hold it together. "If we do not do this, people will die."

"Violet was so foolish," Claudia sobbed, kissing my forehead. "But if Alpha Gideon finds out she ran away, he will slaughter all of us. He will destroy Oak Heart. You are saving all of our lives today, my brave and sweet girl. I will never stop thanking you."

She gently dropped the lace veil over my head.

The world instantly turned white and blurry.

It hid my face completely; even I couldn’t see things properly.

"Claudia!" My father’s voice boomed. "I am done waiting. Bring the bride out."

Claudia quickly wiped her tears. She squeezed my hands one last time. "Just keep your head down," she whispered gently. "Be brave."

She opened the door. Father filled the doorway. He first slapped Claudia across the face hard. “How dare you make me wait?”

I clenched my hands.

“I am sorry, husband.”

He snorted and looked at me. “Walk fast and be presentable. Don’t offend your husband. Don’t forget your promise. You have to give him three children in two years. I hope your mother taught you how to be a good lay for your husband.”

“Husband, she is just a child—”

“Child?” My father snorted. “You were pregnant when you were eighteen; she is still twenty-three! How is she a child?”

My father was forty when he married Claudia in an arranged marriage. Before that, my mom, a ballerina prodigy (barely legal), was raped—she gave birth to me. I was his bastard child, born out of sin.

“Alpha Gideon is restless,” he said. “Walk faster!”

I did…

Now standing in front of Alpha Gideon at the altar.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I stopped breathing.

I was terrified he would see right through the disguise.

"Finally," Gideon growled. "Are you ready?"

I nodded slowly, keeping my head bowed.

"She is just very nervous, Alpha," Claudia said smoothly, stepping between Gideon and me like a protective shield. Her voice was cool, even though I knew she was terrified. "She is ready now."

Gideon stared at me for a long second. He was an Alpha. He could smell fear, and I was drowning in it. But he seemed to accept Claudia's excuse for some reason.

Maybe he thought a young woman marrying a powerful and feared Alpha was bound to be terrified.

"Let us go," Gideon said. He held out his arm.

"She looks beautiful," a woman whispered.

"Oak Heart is saved," an old man muttered happily.

Every word made my stomach twist into tight knots.

They were celebrating a total lie.

"We are here to join two packs," the priest said loudly. "Alpha Gideon of Phantom Moon and Violet of Oak Heart. They come together to form a chosen mate bond, securing peace and protection for all."

The words made me shiver. A chosen mate bond…

"To seal this chosen bond," Silas announced, "the Alpha must claim his mate before the Goddess and these witnesses. The claiming bite will bind your souls together forever."

My blood ran cold.

The claiming bite.

I had been through this once, and I was betrayed.

Gideon stepped closer to me, and I smelled mint, tobacco, and alcohol on his body—it almost made me gag, but I controlled it. He was so tall I had to tilt my head back just to look at him through the white lace.

"Do not be afraid," Gideon murmured softly. For a second, his voice actually sounded gentle. "It will only hurt for a moment."

He raised his large hands to my shoulders and stepped into my space, his chest brushing against the silk of my dress. He leaned his head down, moving toward the crook of my neck.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I tilted my head to the side, giving him access.

My whole body was shaking.

His hands on my body were producing a tingling sensation I had never felt before.

Fear and excitement… the feeling I get before every dance performance…

Dear lord, what’s wrong with me?

Gideon’s fingers brushed against the lace of my veil as he pushed it aside to reach the bare skin of my neck. He breathed warmly on my neck, and I felt goosebumps all over my body. I heard his soft chuckle. “So responsive already…”

I turned red.

Stupidly, with my face, my whole body turns red as well!

Suddenly, he made a sound in his throat and sank his fangs into my neck. I felt a little pain and a sensation of the formation of a mate bond—it felt intense and so strong.

Right at that exact second, a sudden and powerful gust of wind swept through the garden.

The wind caught the lace veil just as Gideon pulled his face away after the sealing of the bond.

Unluckily, the fabric ripped away from the pins in my hair. The veil flew backward, soaring through the air like a white bird before fluttering to the grass feet away.

The bright sun hit my face.

The cool breeze touched my skin.

And just like this, I was completely and utterly fucked!

Gideon froze.

The gentle look in his eyes vanished instantly, and he stared down at me with a terrifying, cold, and cruel look, enough to burn me had he been a dragon instead of a werewolf.

He looked at my brown eyes, my freckles, and my pale and terrified face.

He realized I was not the woman he had agreed to marry.

Finally, the crowd gasped in shock.

The Phantom Moon warriors instantly went rigid, their hands dropping to the weapons hidden under their coats.

Gideon took a slow step back. An overwhelming and suffocating pressure radiated off him. It was pure and unbottled Alpha rage.

"You are not my Violet."

3

Sylvie

"You are not my Violet."

Before Gideon could say another word, a loud, furious roar tore through the crowd. It was my father, Alpha Thorne.

My father was a cruel, selfish, and violent man. He ruled Oak Heart through fear. As he shoved his way to the front, my stomach dropped. I knew my end was near.

"What is the meaning of this?" my father bellowed. "Sylvie? What are you doing in that dress?"

He didn’t know about Claudia’s plan.

"Alpha Gideon," my father said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. "I swear to you, I knew nothing about this trick! There has been a mistake."

I had never seen my father—arrogant and merciless—beg before.

Gideon didn’t even glance at him. His dark, furious eyes stayed locked on me.

"Where is Violet?" Gideon demanded. "Where is the woman I came to claim? Where the fuck is my mate?"

A loud bang echoed from the packhouse doors.

Everyone turned.

Claudia stood in the doorway, barely holding Violet upright.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

My hands flew to my mouth.

Violet… looked destroyed.

Her beautiful blonde hair was tangled with dirt. Her dress was torn. But the worst part—the part that made my stomach drop—was the blood.

She was covered in it.

She sobbed like a broken doll. I had never seen her like this. Not even when Father beat us with his belt to vent his rage.

Slowly, dread crept up my spine.

I looked at my father.

And for the first time, I noticed the dark red stains on the cuffs of his white shirt.

Something inside me went cold.

A sharp pressure pierced behind my eyes.

The pack mindlink opened.

‘Sylvie.’

Claudia’s voice echoed inside my head, frantic and trembling.

‘Sylvie, please… look at me.’

I kept my face still, but shifted my gaze toward her.

She was staring straight at me.

Your father caught them at the border, she cried in my mind. He killed Mike. He tore his throat out right in front of Violet. The blood on her… it’s Mike’s. He killed Violet’s baby too… she’s broken… I know you’re angry at her, but child… she is suffering… please…

Mike was dead.

The man who had been my fated mate.

The man who had shattered me.

The man who had chosen my sister over me.

Dead.

My father had murdered him… to protect this wedding.

Violet collapsed to her knees, clutching herself as sobs wracked her body. For the first time, I truly saw it—

She had loved him.

And now she had lost everything.

Listen to me, Claudia begged. Your father dragged her back. If Alpha Gideon finds out Violet ran away to reject him, he will slaughter us all. And if Gideon doesn’t kill her… your father will.

I looked at Gideon.

He was staring at the blood on Violet.

His jaw was clenched, his entire body coiled with violent rage.

He looked ready to tear the world apart.

He cared.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

My mate and my husband-to-be…

Both loved my sister.

Sylvie, I am begging you, Claudia pleaded desperately. Save her. Save our people. Take the blame. Say you attacked her.

My chest cracked open.

What are you asking me, Claudia? I whispered back. Do I not mean as much as your real daughter?

Her reply came without hesitation.

I raised you after your mother died. I accepted you. Now you must save mine.

The words cut deeper than any blade.

Was I never truly hers?

I stood there in a stolen wedding dress, mourning a dead mate who had betrayed me… and now I had to become the villain.

For my father.

For my sister.

For a pack that would never choose me.

Why, Goddess… why me?

But when I looked at Violet—bloody, broken, shattered—

I knew.

She didn’t deserve to die.

I closed the mindlink and took a deep breath.

And stepped forward.

If I was going to lie, I would make them believe it.

"It was me."

My voice rang out, trembling with fake hatred.

Gideon turned toward me slowly.

"What?" my father snapped, feigning shock.

"I did this!" I shouted, pointing at Violet. Tears burned in my eyes as I forced them to fall. "I’m sick of her! The perfect daughter! She gets everything—love, respect, a future! And me? I’m just the mistake. The bastard hidden in the shadows!"

Gasps spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"I watched you give her everything!" I cried, glaring at my father. "And then you gave her him too? The Alpha of Phantom Moon? No. I wanted that life. I wanted that power. I wanted to finally be better than her!"

I turned to Gideon, letting a wild, broken smile twist my lips.

"So I attacked her. I left her bleeding in the woods and took her place."

Silence.

Violet looked up at me, her face streaked with tears and blood.

She understood.

"Is it true?" Gideon asked her.

Violet’s lips trembled. Her eyes flicked to our father… to Gideon… and then back to me.

Slowly, she nodded.

"It’s true," she whispered. "Sylvie attacked me. She’s always been jealous."

Relief flooded my father’s face.

Of course.

He was more than willing to let me carry his sins.

He stepped forward, raising his hand. "You selfish, evil—"

"Stop."

Gideon’s voice sliced through the air.

My father froze instantly.

No one disobeyed the Alpha of Phantom Moon.

Gideon walked toward me slowly, stopping inches away. His presence was suffocating.

His eyes searched mine.

But I gave him nothing.

Years of dance had taught me control.

"You attacked your own sister for power?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

He studied me for a moment longer.

Then something in his expression shifted. Not anger. Disgust.

Gideon turned to my father.

"The treaty stands," he announced. "Oak Heart will have my protection."

My father exhaled sharply in relief. "Thank you, Alpha Gideon. I will have Sylvie imprisoned immediately—"

"No."

Gideon’s voice dropped, cold and final.

He turned back to me.

"She wanted to be my bride so badly that she spilled her own blood."

Before I could react, he grabbed my arm, hard enough to hurt.

"She wanted a monster," he said, a dark smile forming on his lips.

"Now she will have one."

His grip tightened.

"She’s coming to Phantom Moon with me."

4

Sylvie

Gideon did not let go of my arm when I stumbled over the hem of Violet’s wedding dress as he dragged me through the crowd of my own people.

I kept my head high, playing the role of the jealous sister, but inside, I was bleeding out.

The people I had grown up with looked at me with pure hatred. Women sneered at me, calling me an ungrateful bastard.

Ungrateful for what? That my father raped a girl who was barely legal and used a child to keep her captive?

Men spat on the ground as I walked past, muttering that women like me ruin families.

Women like me?

I was a dancer. Did that make me immoral? If I worked in the pack’s kitchen, I would be called virtuous—but if I did what I was born to do, I became a homewrecker?

I looked at my father, Alpha Thorne, who stood tall with his chest puffed out in victory.

He had murdered an innocent man today—and now he was getting rid of his unwanted bastard daughter while keeping his precious alliance. He looked relieved. Completely unbothered that I was walking straight into hell for his crimes.

Behind him stood Claudia and Violet.

Violet was still crying, clutching her blood-soaked clothes.

Mike’s blood.

The blood of my fated mate.

Claudia met my eyes for a brief, agonizing second. Her lips moved silently : I’m sorry.

I scoffed inwardly.

Sorry?

How do I forgive you, Claudia? You chose your daughter over me. I will die every day in Gideon’s hands. He will break me…humiliate me…turn my life into something I won’t even be able to speak about.

And you let it happen.

Gideon shoved me forward.

I stumbled and fell into the back of an SUV.

The door slammed shut behind me, sealing me in.

A moment later, Gideon slid into the seat across from me.

The engine roared to life, and the SUV sped away from Oak Heart.

I curled my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. The air conditioning blasted against my bare skin, but the real cold came from within.

My chest felt hollowlike something inside me had rotted away.

The mate bond I had shared with Mike was gone. Completely gone. Torn apart by his rejection and destroyed forever by his brutal death.

My soul felt chewed up and spat out.

Mike is dead.

The words echoed in my mind, bringing a fresh wave of pain.

He had betrayed me. He had broken me. He had chosen my sister.

But he was still the boy I had loved since I first understood what love meant.

And my father had ripped his throat out like an animal.

Tears burned the back of my eyes. I wanted to scream. I wanted to collapse and sob until I couldn’t breathe.

But I couldn’t.

If I cried, Gideon would notice.

Gideon believed I was a power-hungry, jealous woman who had attacked her sister for a throne. A woman like that wouldn’t mourn a dead guard.

If he saw even a crack in my act, he would know the truth. And then he would go back. And he would kill them all. Including Violet. I hated her. But I loved her too. Love is a curse. I wished I were selfish. Cold. Empty. Someone who didn’t feel this much. But I wasn’t. So I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.

I swallowed my tears. I swallowed my grief. And I let the pain turn me numb.

Gideon sat across from me, watching me with eyes as cold as winter ice. He looked relaxed, but his jaw was tight. He radiated pure disgust.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I slowly lifted my head and met his gaze.

"You thought this was a game," Gideon said, his lip curling. "You thought you could put on a white dress, spill your sister’s blood, and become the Luna of Phantom Moon."

I wanted to laugh.

I wanted to scream.

I don’t want your throne.

But I said nothing.

Men like him didn’t listen. They only wanted obedience.

"Let me make something very clear to you, Sylvie," Gideon growled, leaning forward. "You are not my Luna. You will never be my Luna. I am so disgusted by the sight of you that I won’t even bother drafting a contract for our marriage. You are not worth the paper."

Good.

"You wanted luxury?" he continued. "You’ll get dirt. When we arrive, you won’t live in the packhouse. You’ll live in the Omega quarters. In the basement. You’ll scrub floors on your hands and knees. Wash the warriors’ bloodstained clothes. Eat scraps."

He wanted to humiliate me. To break me. But all I felt was… relief. At least I wouldn’t have to be near him.

"The only reason I accepted this bond," Gideon said coldly, "is because my mother is dying. Her final wish is to see me mated and producing an heir."

His eyes darkened.

"So you will be my breeding mare."

My stomach twisted.

"When the time comes, I will use you to give me a child. But I will never kiss you. Never touch you beyond what is necessary. And the moment that child is born, I will take it from you—and you will go back to scrubbing floors."

I dug my nails into my palms until it hurt.

Pain grounded me. It controlled me and kept me from breaking.

He leaned back, watching me closely. Waiting. Waiting for me to scream. To cry. To beg. I had lost everything. My mate. My home. My place in the world. Scrubbing floors didn’t scare me. Nothing could hurt me more than I was already hurting.

"Okay," I whispered. "If that’s my punishment."

Gideon frowned.

He stared at me, clearly thrown off.

This wasn’t the reaction he expected. A greedy woman would have fought him. A proud woman would have cried. But I just turned my head and looked out the dark, tinted window, watching the trees blur past. That too silently.

For the rest of the long drive, Gideon said nothing.

But I could feel his eyes on me. Watching and studying me.

“Playing hard to get?” he said with a dry and mocking laugh.

I didn’t respond.

What was wrong with this man?

Was he always this eager to misunderstand everything?

5

Sylvie

The SUV stopped outside a mansion.

I looked out the tinted window. The Phantom Moon packhouse was not just a house but a big, sprawling stone mansion surrounded by towering trees and blanketed in snow from all sides. It looked like a fortress built for royalty. Hundreds of strong wolves milled around the front steps in long winter coats and high boots, waiting to welcome their Alpha and his new Luna.

This was it. This was the moment Gideon would drag me out by my hair. This was where he would strip me of this wedding dress, throw me into the mud, and tell his entire pack that I was a vicious, jealous monster who hurt her own sister for a crown and I would have to close my eyes and bear the sneers.

I braced myself for the screaming and the hatred.

I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the pain.

"Get out," Gideon ordered, his voice gruff.

I slid across the leather seat slowly and stepped out into the cool evening air, keeping my head bowed.

I waited for him to shout to the crowd about my sins.

I waited for him to point his finger at me and condemn me to the basement.

Gideon reached out and grabbed my arm. His large hand wrapped around my bicep. But the crushing, bruising grip from earlier was gone. Instead, his hold was firm and strangely careful.

For some reason, I could see the war fighting inside him.

I could see the frustration burning in his eyes.

"Walk," Gideon finally muttered.

Instead of dragging me toward the servant's entrance, Gideon pulled me straight up the grand stone steps.

The Phantom Moon pack members bowed their heads in deep respect as we passed. No one yelled. No one threw dirt at me. Gideon led me right through the front doors and into the warm, brightly lit foyer of the main packhouse.

I blinked in confusion. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Thick and plush carpets lined the floors. Why wasn’t he taking me to the damp basement? Why was he letting me walk through the front door like a real Luna?

"Gideon?" a weak, raspy voice called out from the next room.

Gideon instantly stopped. The cold and terrifying Alpha vanished.

In his place, I saw a vulnerable, exhausted son—shoulders slightly slumped, worry etched into his face.

He gently led me into a beautiful sitting room.

Sitting in a plush chair near the fire was a frail and older woman. A blanket was wrapped around her thin shoulders. Her skin was pale, and she looked very sick. But when she saw Gideon, her tired eyes lit up with pure joy.

This was his mother. I could just tell.

"Mother," Gideon said softly. He let go of my arm and knelt beside her chair, taking her fragile hand in his. "I am back."

"My brave boy," she whispered, patting his cheek. Then, she shifted her gaze to me.

My breath caught in my throat. I stood frozen in the ruined, wrinkled wedding dress. I was the wrong girl. I was the bastard sister. If Gideon didn’t expose me, surely his mother would.

The old woman looked at my brown eyes, my stupid freckles, the tear stains on my pale cheeks.

She didn’t scream or look angry.

Instead, a warm, gentle smile spread across her face. It was as if she didn’t care about the name on the treaty—she only saw a terrified, heartbroken girl standing in her living room.

"Oh, come here, child," she said softly, reaching her trembling hand out to me.

I hesitated. I looked at Gideon. He gave me a sharp warning look. Play along.

I slowly walked forward and knelt on the floor beside him. The old woman took my cold, shaking hand in both of hers. Her touch was so warm and motherly that it made my shattered heart ache. I hadn’t felt a mother’s true and selfless comfort since I was a child.

"You are beautiful, my dear," she whispered. "I am sorry, I forget your name. I am a little sick… I just cannot recall things anymore."

“I…” I tried to speak as Gideon’s gaze burned into me.

“I… I am Sylvie.”

She repeated it softly. “Sylvie…”

Then a smile bloomed across her pale face. “I may not remember many things… but I remember Gideon having a ballerina doll named Sylvie. He became obsessed with it after seeing a ballet performance in the capital.”

I glanced at Gideon. He looked uncomfortable. “Mom…”

She turned to him gently. “What? She is your wife now. Are you going to hide your truths from her? You may be a powerful Alpha, but inside this home, you are a son… a partner… a husband. A Luna is not just a title. She is your equal. You must share everything with her—love, respect, secrets… everything.”

A lump formed in my throat. I had to swallow hard to keep from crying.

“Okay, Mom.”

“Madam—” I began.

“Call me Mom, like he does,” she said warmly. “And if that feels too soon, you may call me Catherine.”

“Mom.” The word slipped out naturally.

Her smile deepened. “Oh, sweet girl.”

She slid the diamond bangles from her wrists and placed them into my hands. “Gideon’s father gave these to me on our first anniversary. I have never taken them off… but now they feel too heavy. Perhaps it is time.”

Her fingers curled gently around mine. “Keep them for me. Wear them whenever you wish. And when you do… please think of us.”

“Mom…” both Gideon and I said softly.

She chuckled weakly. “I am not going to live forever. Do not make me work too hard.”

Then she took our hands and pressed them together.

Her grip trembled as a wet and rattling cough escaped her lips, making Gideon stiffen with worry.

“My time is very short, Gideon,” she whispered. “The healers say only a few months… maybe less.”

“Do not speak like that, Mother,” Gideon said, his voice thick.

“It is the truth,” she replied gently.

Then her gaze shifted between us, filled with quiet desperation.

“Please, I only have one wish left. Give me a grandchild. Let me hold your heir before the Goddess takes me away.”

The room fell into silence.

My blood ran cold.

An heir.

I looked at Gideon. He stared at his dying mother, completely trapped. He could not refuse her. He could not break her heart. He had brought me here to punish me but now he was forced to play the role of a loving husband.

And I was trapped right beside him.

I was already grieving a brutally murdered mate, hollowed out from the inside and now I was expected to create life in this nightmare.

“We will, Mother,” Gideon finally choked out. He didn’t look at me. “I promise.”

Do you remember those glass globes where a tiny ballerina spins endlessly while snow drifts around her?

I was that ballerina.

6

Gideon

I stood outside my own bedroom door, staring at the polished brass handle for a long moment, as an unfamiliar tightness settled in my chest and refused to loosen no matter how steadily I tried to breathe. I had promised my dying mother a grandchild, had stood there and given her my word without hesitation, and yet now, faced with the simple act of walking into my own room, I felt a sharp, restless anger rising inside me, coiling tighter with every passing second.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath, more to silence my own thoughts than out of any real conviction, before finally pushing the heavy oak door open and stepping inside.

Sylvie was already there.

She stood near the tall window, her figure framed by the faint moonlight spilling in from outside, as she looked out into the dark forest stretching endlessly beyond the packhouse grounds. She was wearing a pale blue silk nightgown, one that my mother had chosen carefully weeks ago for Violet, and the sight of it on the wrong woman stirred something bitter and uneasy in me.

Violet had always been tall, radiant, golden in a way that drew admiration without effort, while Sylvie was entirely different, with her pale skin and dark, unruly hair that cascaded over her bare shoulders, giving her the fragile, haunting appearance of something out of an old painting. There was something about her that reminded me, strangely and unwillingly, of a swan—graceful and delicate, yet carrying a quiet, unsettling sadness beneath the surface.

The silk fabric draped loosely over her small frame, emphasizing just how slight she was, and yet there was a strange, unintentional elegance in the way she held herself, even now.

I had heard she was a dancer, though I had never seen her perform myself, only heard the whispers that followed her name. Men talked, as they always did, twisting things into something dirtier, something easier to mock.

“She dances for money,” one of my warriors had said earlier, his tone laced with crude amusement.

“In places where decent women don’t go,” another had added, laughing under his breath.

The memory made my jaw tighten, a flicker of irritation burning low in my chest, though I refused to examine it too closely.

“I have no issue with women earning honestly,” I muttered to myself, my voice low and edged with frustration, “but liars, manipulators, women who claw their way up by destroying others… those are the ones I cannot stand.”

And yet, that was exactly the kind of woman I had been forced to marry.

What a cruel twist of fate that the mother of my future child would be someone like her, someone I could neither respect nor trust, someone who now wore my mother’s precious bangles as though she had any right to them.

The soft click of the door closing echoed faintly behind me, and at the sound, she turned to face me, her entire body going still for a fraction of a second before she instinctively stepped backward, pressing herself against the cold glass of the window as though she could somehow disappear into it.

I noticed immediately that her bare feet made no sound against the wooden floor, her movements so light and silent that they felt almost unnatural, like watching a shadow shift rather than a person move.

I told myself I hated her, that I despised everything she represented, from the blood she had spilled to the lies she had spoken, and yet, as I stood there looking at her, something in my body betrayed me in a way I had not expected.

My throat went dry, and deep inside, my wolf began to stir, restless at first, then agitated, pacing back and forth as though it had been caged for too long.

It wanted to get closer to her.

The realization made my expression harden instantly, disgust rising just as quickly as the instinct itself.

The air in the room felt thick, heavy with the faint, intoxicating scent of her skin, and before I could stop myself, I found my attention drawn to the way her hair fell over her shoulders, to the quiet rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

For a brief, dangerous moment, I wanted to close the distance between us, to reach out and pull her closer, to bury my face in her hair just to understand why the bond was reacting this way.

“No,” I said sharply, more to myself than to her, as I dug my fingernails into my palms to ground myself in something real.

“This is nothing more than the artificial mate bond,” I told myself firmly, clinging to the explanation with stubborn certainty, “just the effect of the moonwater, just magic trying to force something that does not exist.”

It was not real.

She was not real to me.

“You have the room you killed for,” I said finally, my voice cold and controlled despite the storm building beneath it.

She flinched at my words, the reaction immediate and unguarded, and her gaze flickered briefly toward the large bed before snapping back to me, as though even looking at it unsettled her.

I slowed my steps, my eyes narrowing slightly as I studied her more carefully, because something about her reaction did not make sense.

For someone who had fought so ruthlessly to secure this position, she did not look victorious.

She looked terrified.

There was no pride in her expression, no satisfaction, no trace of the ambition she had so boldly displayed earlier. Instead, there was only a deep, hollow sadness that seemed to swallow everything else.

“She is pretending,” I told myself, though the thought did not sit as comfortably as it should have.

At the altar, she had spoken with confidence, even defiance, claiming her actions without hesitation, yet now she looked as though the ground beneath her feet might give way at any moment.

A woman who had won did not stand like this.

A woman who had won did not tremble like prey cornered by a predator.

Her fear irritated me, because it felt false, like another carefully constructed lie meant to manipulate the situation.

“Do not play the victim now, Sylvie ,” I said sharply, my tone cutting through the silence as I took a deliberate step closer to her. “You wanted this, and now you have it.”

She shook her head faintly, the movement so small it might have gone unnoticed if I had not been watching her so closely, and yet she still did not speak.

“You beat your sister and took her place,” I continued, my voice growing harsher with each word, “you fought your way into this room, into this marriage, so do not stand there pretending you had no choice.”

Still, nothing.

“Answer me,” I demanded, my patience snapping as I closed the remaining distance between us, my presence towering over her slight frame.

“You wanted to be my Luna, you wanted my power, you wanted to give me an heir,” I said, each word deliberate and heavy, “so why are you standing there shaking like you are about to be executed?”

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet mine, and for a moment, the sight of her expression caught me off guard in a way I had not anticipated.

Her eyes were not filled with defiance or calculation, but with something far more unsettling.

They were filled with pain.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice so fragile that it barely carried across the space between us.

The single word made something in my chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Please what?” I pressed, forcing the moment away as I leaned closer, unwilling to let her silence disarm me. “Please pretend you are innocent, or please be rewarded for what you have done?”

My voice dropped lower, colder.

“You are a liar, Sylvie , and you got exactly what you wanted,” I said, holding her gaze firmly. “You wanted to be in my bed, so stop pretending otherwise.”

I gestured toward her lightly, my tone sharpening. “Take the robe off.”

For a moment, nothing happened, and then a single tear slipped down her cheek, followed quickly by another.

She did not make a sound as she cried, did not plead or argue or attempt to defend herself, and somehow, that silence was more unsettling than any outburst could have been.

She simply stood there, as though something inside her had already broken beyond repair.

The moment her tears fell, my wolf reacted violently, slamming against the walls of my control with a force that nearly made me stagger.

She is hurting. Fix it. Protect her.

The instinct roared through me, raw and overwhelming, demanding that I move, that I close the distance, that I do something—anything—to stop the quiet pain etched across her face.

My hands twitched at my sides, a sudden, almost unbearable urge rising within me to pull her into my arms, to wipe away her tears, to shield her from whatever had caused this broken, hollow expression.

The realization made me feel physically ill.

Why did this matter to me?

Why did her pain feel like it was pressing against my own chest, tightening until it became difficult to breathe?

“She deserves this,” I told myself harshly, clinging to the anger as the only thing that made sense. “She hurt Violet, she created this situation, and now she has to live with it.”

And yet, despite every logical thought, the feeling refused to disappear.

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too heavy, the bond between us tightening like something alive and suffocating.

I could not stay there.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, turning away abruptly before I did something I would regret.

“Pathetic,” I added, though whether I meant her or myself, I could not say with certainty.

Without another word, I walked out of the room and slammed the door shut behind me, the sound echoing sharply through the hallway.

And just like that, I left my new bride standing alone in the dark, her silent tears the only thing lingering in my mind long after I had forced myself to walk away.