After My Mate Made My Sister Luna, I Fought Back

I woke to the sound of my own silence.

Five years. Five years since Axl Morrison had marked me as his mate, standing before the entire Shadowclaw Pack and declaring me his Luna. Five years since he'd endured the Alpha's Trial—a brutal beating from his father that left him bleeding but triumphant—just to claim me.

And now, on our fifth anniversary, I lay curled on a thin mattress in what had once been a closet. The servants' quarters. My new home.

My fingers traced the familiar ache in my throat as I sat up. Not a physical pain, but something deeper—a magical constriction that made my voice box feel like it was wrapped in iron. The Alpha Command had been renewed so many times over the years that it felt permanent, a collar I could never remove.

"Up already, mute?" A voice sneered from the doorway. Tessa, one of the newer Omegas, leaned against the frame with a basket of laundry. "I thought you'd at least sleep in on your special day."

I didn't respond. Couldn't respond. My wolf, Serafina, stirred weakly inside me, a faint whisper where she should be a roar.

"Come on, say something." Tessa stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh wait, you can't." She opened her mouth wide, mimicking a scream, then clamped her hand over her throat, eyes bulging. "Like this? Is this what it feels like to be you?"

The others joined in, their laughter echoing in the small space as they mimicked my silence, my stillness, my brokenness.

"The Alpha doesn't want broken things," Tessa said, dropping the basket at my feet. "These need washing. By hand. No machines for the pack's embarrassment."

I took the basket without protest, my hands already red and raw from yesterday's work. The pack doctor had once told me that stress could worsen my condition, but what choice did I have?

---

By midday, I'd finished the laundry and moved on to scrubbing the pack house floors. My knees ached against the hard wood, but I kept working. Maybe if I worked hard enough, quiet enough, invisible enough...

A scent caught my attention—Axl's distinctive pine and smoke aroma, mixed with something else. Rose petals. Champagne.

My heart stuttered. Today was our anniversary. Could he...?

I followed the scent trail like a ghost through the pack house, my bare feet silent on the stairs. The Alpha's private suite—a place I hadn't been invited to in years—lay at the end of the hall.

The door was ajar. I pushed it open slowly, hope fluttering in my chest like a dying bird.

Rose petals scattered across the floor, forming a path to the bed. Champagne flutes sat on the nightstand, still holding remnants of golden liquid. And there, among white silk sheets, lay Axl.

With Megan.

My half-sister's red hair spilled across his chest as she traced patterns on his skin. The room reeked of their betrayal—her vanilla perfume mingling with his scent, marking their claim on each