I proposed to my boyfriend of three years — Alpha Wyatt — and planned to finally come clean about who I really was. Instead, he ran. I found him that same night at a bar, another woman in his lap, his words cutting clean to the bone: he would never marry someone with my bloodline. Three years of warmth and sweetness, and it had all been a performance — just to get me into bed. Heartbroken and drunk, I gave my first time to a stranger I met that night. I didn't find out who he was until the pack dinner. Damian. The Silvermoon Alpha. Wyatt's own uncle. Three months later, Wyatt announced his engagement — to my half-sister. I walked into that engagement party on Damian's arm. The second Wyatt saw me, the color drained from his face. "Damian — why are you with her?" Damian's hand settled on my waist, his voice low and unhurried. "She's my Luna. Your aunt."