Luna Faked Her Death

The silver light of the full moon filtered through the trees as I made my final rounds with the night patrol. My muscles ached pleasantly from the evening's exertion, and my inner wolf, Sarah, hummed with contentment beneath my skin. These moments—moving through our territory with purpose, feeling the pack's collective strength—were when I felt most like a true Luna of the Moonstone Pack.

"Everything's secure along the eastern border, Luna Chloe," reported Delta Jackson, his posture straightening as he addressed me.

"Good work tonight," I smiled, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Tell the others they can return to their families. I'll check in with Alpha Ryan."

The pack house loomed ahead, its windows glowing amber against the night. Ten years I'd called this place home—five as Ryan's chosen mate and five as his Luna. Each stone and timber held memories of our life together, the partnership we'd built. I paused at the entrance, inhaling deeply. Something felt... off. The air carried a tension I couldn't quite place.

Sarah whined softly. *Something's wrong.*

*It's probably just pack business,* I assured her, though uncertainty prickled along my spine.

I made my way through the quiet corridors toward Ryan's office. The door was closed, but light spilled from beneath it. As I raised my hand to knock, Ryan's voice cut through the wood.

"Enter."

The command carried the unmistakable weight of his Alpha tone—a rarity when we were alone. My heart stuttered as I pushed open the door.

Ryan stood by the window, his broad shoulders tense, moonlight casting half his face in shadow. He didn't turn when I entered, his gaze fixed on something distant beyond the glass.

"You wanted to see me?" I kept my voice steady, though Sarah paced anxiously within.

"Close the door."

I complied, the soft click sealing us into a silence that felt suddenly oppressive. When he finally turned, his eyes held none of the warmth I'd grown accustomed to over our years together. They were the eyes of an Alpha, not a mate.

"We have a situation," he said, gesturing for me to sit. I remained standing.

"What kind of situation?"

"The Silver Ridge Pack to the north and the Black River Pack to the west have formed an alliance." His voice was clinical, detached. "They're planning to absorb our territory within the month if we don't secure protection."

Ice formed in my veins. "That's impossible. We have treaties—"

"Treaties mean nothing when power shifts." Ryan's fist came down on his desk, making me flinch. "We need a stronger alliance, one that no pack would dare challenge."

"Then we'll negotiate," I said, stepping forward. "I can speak with the neighboring Lunas, find common ground—"

"It's beyond that." He cut me off, his expression hardening. "There's only one alliance that would guarantee our safety: the Alpha King."

The Alpha King Theron. Even his name carried weight. The supreme ruler of all werewolf packs, his power was legendary, his favor sought by Alphas across the