Chapter 1

My mom is the Luna of the Thorne Pack. Seven males walked into her bedroom tonight. One by one. The one who set it all up is my Alpha father.

He stood in the doorway the entire time, his new whore in his arms, smiling.

"The proud Luna." he says. "You always thought you were better than Brielle. But now..."

"Half the males in the pack have seen your skin. Touched it. So you'll finally agree to let me take Brielle as my second, won't you?"

It wasn't the first time. I know.

And this time, Mom doesn't scream. She doesn't fight. She doesn't even cry.

That night, she just slips the mating pendant from her neck — the one my father gave her the night they mated— and drops it straight into the flames.

The next morning, he throws Brielle the loudest mating ceremony the Thorne Pack has ever seen. Bigger than the one he gave Mom. Louder. Brighter. Every Alpha and Luna from three territories shows up.

I sit beside Mom in the back row in a plain gray dress, digging my claws into my own palms hard enough to bleed.

Then, right when the howls go up the loudest — drawings starts raining down from the rafters.

Filthy drawings. My mother's body. Naked.

I scramble across the floor, ripping them, stuffing them under the tables, my whole face on fire.

My father's eyes go black.

"So you like showing off that much?" he roars at her. "Your're nothing but a slut! Warriors — drag the Luna to the Pit!"

The warriors close in. Two of them grab Mom by the arms. They don't even wait for her to stand. They haul her up — her feet barely touching the floor — and drag her straight through the hall.

I scream. I claw forward.

I have to get to her. I have to pull my mom back.

But the old nursemaid clamps a hand over my mouth and drags me out kicking.

All I can do is watch. Watch the warriors drag her past me — pulling her one way, while the nursemaid pulls me the other.

The dark swallows her whole.

Soon, the howls begin.

Something inside my chest breaks.

And their laughter keeps coming.

"Any wolf who comes out of the Pit alive can't even shift again. Useless. Broken."

"Generous of the Alpha, letting his own Luna feed the Pit…"

"Pretty Luna. She's sweeter than any rogue. But it won't be pretty anymore when they're done with her wolf."

I go cold all the way to my bones. I tug the nursemaid's sleeve, voice shaking. "What's the Pit?"

She just shakes her head, eyes wet. "The cruelest thing they've ever done to a wolf. That's all I'll say."

...

The howls go on for hours.

I'm locked in my room. I don't know how long. I don't sleep. I don't speak.

Then — footsteps in the corridor outside. Heavy. Dragging.

I throw myself at the door. Pounding. Screaming.

The door swings open.

I tear out into the corridor.

I crash into Mom's room — and the smell hits me first. Blood. Sweat. Strangers. My stomach flips.

She's lying on the bed, eyes wide open, staring at nothing.

Her robe is so thin I can see right through it — she's bruised everywhere. Every inch of her.

"Mom…"

My voice cracks. My fingers hover over her arm — I'm too scared to touch her. I spin around to run for a healer.

The curtain slams open.

My father walks in with Brielle tucked under his arm, her face painted, perfume sharp. She wrinkles her nose at the smell and hides behind him.

He looks down at Mom like she's a stain.

"Maren. Drop the act."

"Yur wolf is still there, and I told every male not to actually touch you. Stop playing dead."

I open my mouth — she has bruises everywhere, can't he see?

But Mom grabs my wrist first. From under her pillow she pulls something out. Then she lifts her chin and looks her mate dead in the eye.

"Damon Thorne. I, Maren Ashford, reject —"

"ENOUGH."

The Alpha command cracks through the room so hard the windows shake. My knees buckle. Mom's voice locks in her throat. He used his power on his own Luna to shut her up.

"You don't get to say it," he hisses. "Not a word more!"

He paces. Then, like the words cost him nothing, he says, "Where would you even go, Maren? Your father's dead. Your brother's dead. Your mother's been gone for years. There's nothing left of the Ashford Pack but bones. I'm all you have."

I freeze.

So he remembers.

He remembers her brother died to draw the rogues away from him — shredded by a hundred hunters, bones still buried somewhere in the northern sand without a single marker.

He remembers her father tore his own throat open in the middle of the council hall, on his knees, begging other Alphas for backup. Bled out on the floor. Just so he could come home alive.

He remembers kneeling at the Ashford ancestors' altar, swearing on the moon: I, Damon Thorne, will protect Maren Ashford until my last breath. One mate. One Luna. Forever.

Forever lasted three years.

He came home from the Northern War with Brielle on his arm. Said she was a rogue. Said Mom should be gracious and give up the Luna's quarters. Mom did.

Brielle sneezed at the moonflowers in the garden — Mom's moonflowers, five years of her own hands in the dirt — and he tore them all out the next morning.

Then Mom got pregnant. A boy. The pack heir.

Brielle whispered one sentence into his ear, "The pup's spirit clashes with mine, my Alpha. If he lives, I won't."

That same night, he held Mom down himself and poured the wolfsbane tonic into her mouth.

Mom bled out the pup on the bedroom floor, screaming loud enough that every wolf in the pack heard her.

But not one came.

And out front, in the great hall, my father had Brielle on his lap, laughing, drinking, drums pounding — like he couldn't even hear her. Like she wasn't worth hearing.

That was the night I knew. My father, who used to lift me onto his shoulders, who held my mother's hand under the full moon, was already dead.