Chapter 3

Louise POV:

Ivy's smile was triumphant, believing she had won. She tapped a perfectly manicured nail against her temple, a smug look on her face.

"My Alpha, darling, there's a little Omega causing a scene here. You should come and deal with it."

I felt the ripple of her Mind-Link transmission, a crude and public broadcast compared to the intimate connection I shared with Vincent. It was like hearing someone shout in a library.

And I felt the response. A familiar presence, drawing near. My mate.

The heavy oak door swung open.

Vincent Harper, my husband of ten years, the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, stood silhouetted in the doorway. He was as handsome as the day I met him, his broad shoulders filling the frame, his presence radiating a power that made the air crackle.

His eyes scanned the room, and for a fraction of a second, they locked onto mine. I saw shock flicker in their depths, a brief, unguarded panic. He saw me. He saw Michelle, bruised and trembling.

Then, it was gone. A mask of cold indifference slammed down, so complete it was terrifying. He looked at me, at his own daughter, as if we were complete strangers.

"Vincent, darling!" Ivy cried, rushing to his side and clinging to his arm. "This crazy woman, she attacked our Lacey! She broke her nose!"

Lacey, playing her part perfectly, sobbed into his expensive suit jacket. "Daddy, she said she was your mate! She's insane!"

The other parents in the room, seeing their Alpha, immediately began to clamor.

"She's a lunatic, Alpha!"

"She forced her way in here!"

"She claims to be from a dead pack!"

Vincent listened, his face a stony mask. He looked at me, and his voice, when he spoke, was the voice of a judge passing sentence. It was not the warm, loving tone he used on our private channel. It was a voice I had never heard directed at me.

"I don't know who you are," he said, each word a shard of ice piercing my heart.

This was a public disavowal. A desecration of the Laws of the Fated Mate. To deny your mate in front of others was one of the greatest sins, a wound that cut deeper than any physical blow. I felt our sacred bond tremble and crack, a searing pain lancing through my soul.

"She needs to kneel and apologize, Daddy!" Lacey demanded, pointing at me.

Vincent didn't even look at me. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod to the two pack Warriors who had followed him in. "Punish the trespasser."

It was an Alpha's Command. The undercurrent of power in his voice was undeniable, a force designed to compel obedience from any lower-ranking wolf.

But I was no ordinary wolf. The White Wolf in my blood, the blood of Alphas and Lunas stretching back to the Moon Goddess herself, bristled against the command. I could resist it.

But I let them come.

Two burly Warriors grabbed my arms, their grips like iron. They forced me to my knees on the cold, hard floor. The humiliation was a physical thing, a heavy cloak settling over me.

Lacey snatched a heavy wooden ruler from a teacher's desk. It was an old, ornate one, inlaid with thin silver lines for decoration.

Her eyes gleamed with malice. "This is for touching me," she snarled.

She raised the ruler high and brought it down across my back.

A line of pure fire erupted across my skin. The silver inlay made it more than just a blow; it was torture. Another strike, and another. Each one sent a jolt of agony through me, the scent of my own burning flesh filling my nostrils.

Across the room, Vincent stood watching, his face impassive. But I saw it. I saw the veins standing out on his clenched fists. I saw the muscle jumping in his jaw. Through our damaged bond, I could feel a ghost of my pain echoing in him. The mate bond works both ways. My suffering was his.

And still, he did nothing. He stood and watched as his mate was beaten for a plan he had set in motion.

I coughed, a spray of blood and saliva hitting the polished floor. I raised my head, my hair plastered to my face with sweat, and met his eyes.

I gave him a bloody, broken smile.

"You will regret rejecting your Luna," I rasped, my voice weak but clear.

As the words left my lips, a new sound filled the air. A low, deep thrumming that grew rapidly louder. It was the sound of heavy rotors beating the air into submission.

WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP.

Everyone froze, looking towards the large windows.

Three military-grade helicopters hovered outside, their searchlights flooding the room with blinding white light. Ropes dropped from their open doors, and figures in black tactical gear descended with terrifying speed and precision.

The windows shattered inwards. Soldiers, armed and clad in the insignia of the Werewolf High Council, poured into the room, securing it in seconds.

Their leader, a stern-faced officer with silver streaks in his hair, strode directly to me. He ignored the Alpha, the bullies, everyone. He stopped before my kneeling form and dropped into a low, formal bow, an ancient wolf gesture of fealty.

"Luna Harper," he said, his voice booming with authority. "The Silvermoon Oath has been answered. The High Council Guard is at your command."

The entire room went dead silent. The power had just shifted.