After My Mate Crowned His Mistress Luna, I Fled

I stood before the mirror in my small room at the edge of the pack house, smoothing down the white dress I'd spent weeks altering. The fabric was worn at the seams, but I'd carefully sewn tiny pearls along the neckline to hide the imperfections. Tonight was supposed to be my night—the night Zane would finally mark me as his Luna under the full moon.

"It has to fit perfectly," I whispered to my reflection, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My fingers trembled slightly as I fastened the last button. "The Goddess doesn't make mistakes, Amelie. You are his fated mate."

My wolf, Luna, stirred weakly inside me. She'd been quiet for years, beaten down by the pack's whispers that we were too weak to be Alpha material. But today she seemed to hold her breath with hope.

I grabbed the small bouquet of moonflowers I'd picked at dawn—a traditional gift for a Luna's coronation. Their silver-blue petals glowed faintly in the dim light of my room.

"You look...adequate," came a voice from the doorway. I turned to see Mira, one of the Omega staff, eyeing my dress with undisguised contempt. "Though I doubt it matters what you wear. Everyone knows tonight is just a formality."

I swallowed hard but forced a smile. "Thank you for your help with the alterations."

She snorted. "Just doing my job. Though I pity the needle that had to work on that ancient thing." She flicked her wrist dismissively. "The main hall is almost ready. Though between us," she leaned closer, lowering her voice, "I heard they're setting up something special for Peyton."

My heart stuttered. "Peyton?"

"Just gossip," she shrugged, already turning away. "Probably nothing."

But the knot in my stomach tightened as I made my way through the pack house. Whispers followed me, eyes darting away when I caught them staring. I'd endured years of this—being the "weak" fated mate, the she-wolf who couldn't shift properly, who couldn't command respect.

Tonight would change everything.

* * *

The grand doors to the banquet hall loomed before me. I paused, smoothing my dress one last time, and pushed them open.

Music blasted me—not the traditional Luna coronation chant but something modern and raucous. Streamers hung from the ceiling in bright colors, balloons bobbed against the walls, and a massive banner stretched across the far end:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEYTON!

My bouquet slipped from my fingers as I froze in the doorway. The hall was packed with pack members, all dressed in party attire, drinking and laughing. No one noticed me standing there, a ghost in a white dress.

"Amelie?" Marcus, Zane's Beta, appeared at my side, his expression unreadable. "You shouldn't be here yet."

"I—I was told to come at eight," I stammered.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Look, maybe you should—"

But I was already moving through the crowd, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. That's when I saw them.

Zane stood at the center of