“Congratulations.” I said it to the woman wearing my crown. Selene Ward froze mid-smile. Three hundred wolves went silent. Somewhere behind me, a champagne flute stopped halfway to a mouth. Because my husband had just announced, in front of the entire Silvercrest Pack, that the Luna of the Blood Moon Ceremony would not be me—his mate of five years—but her. Again. Fifth year running. They were all waiting for it. My annual breakdown. The feral girl from the western mountains, screaming and clawing at her Alpha over a title she’d never be allowed to hold. I just smiled. Because I’d been waiting for tonight too. For five years. My brother Rhys made a deal with me once, on the hood of his truck, back when I still thought love was enough. Five years, Wren. If he hasn’t put that pendant on you by then, you come home with me. And don’t you dare complain about how I clean it up. Tonight was the deadline. My calm cut Kieran deeper than any scream could have. He crossed the ballroom, took my face in one hand almost tenderly, and unhooked the moonstone drops from my ears himself. Then he turned and fastened them to Selene’s. “These were always meant for her.” Right on cue, Selene tipped her wine. Red bloomed across my pale silk, warm as blood, and she watched my eyes, hungry for the flinch. I brushed the stain flat and smiled at her. “You’ll catch a chill in a damp dress. Should I have someone bring you a wrap?” Kieran’s jaw locked. His little ritual of public humiliation had gone dead in his hands. He thought this was the fifth time he’d successfully broken the wild thing he’d dragged down from the mountains. He was wrong. This was never a test. This was the funeral I’d spent five years planning. For him. For his mother. For every polished stone in Silvercrest. I didn’t wait for Selene to answer. I waved over one of the pack omegas and instructed her myself—cold water, white cloth, blot the hem before it sets. Then I untied the thin scarf Kieran had tossed at me earlier as “compensation” and pressed it into Selene’s hands. “Keep it. The color suits you better.” She stared at me like I’d slapped her. Kieran’s voice dropped low enough that only the first three rows heard it. “Wren. Who gave you permission to give away what I gave you?” I looked up at him. “She’s hardly a stranger.” I let my gaze slide between them. “Isn’t she the Luna of this house tonight?” For one perfect second, the Alpha of Silvercrest had nothing to say. His eyes went black, like the water under winter ice. I stood. “Excuse me. I’m going to change.” I felt his stare the entire way up the staircase, hot as a hand on the back of my neck. Only when the bedroom door clicked shut did my chest cave in. My phone buzzed on the vanity. Encrypted line. Rhys. Five years, Wren. You lost the bet. Extraction is live. Come home. Five years of held breath snapped all at once, and my eyes burned. I didn’t even get to reply. Cold hands settled on my waist. Kieran pressed against my back, and I felt the laugh rumble through his chest before I heard it. “I knew you were faking it. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be up here crying.” I blacked the screen before he could see. “I was thinking about how ugly I’ve been,” I said. “All these years.” It was almost true. I barely recognized the woman I’d become in this house. He turned my face and kissed the tears off my cheek—a punishing kiss, the kiss of a man who thinks he’s finally gentled something wild. “Now you understand how you’ve embarrassed me.” His thumb traced my lip. Then he asked for something crueler. “To prove you’ve learned, you’ll pin the moonstone on Selene yourself. In front of the whole pack.” My whole body went rigid. That pendant is the Luna’s crest. It has been for two hundred years. Kieran released me like he’d lost interest. “Being my mate isn’t the same as being some mountain princess out west, Wren. Learn to accept things.” At the door, he paused. “Behave, and maybe next year I’ll let you sit at my mother’s table.” He went downstairs to comfort Selene. I lowered my eyes and smiled at the floor. But Kieran— There is no next year.