THE LUNA OF TWO LIVES: REBORN FOR VENGEANCE.

The library of Highridge Manor was once a place of sanctuary. When my mother was alive, it smelled of beeswax, expensive tea, and the wild, snowy scent of the North that she carried in her hair. Now, it smelled of neglect. The air was thick with the dust of stories no one cared to read anymore, much like me. I dipped my quill into the inkwell, my fingers trembling slightly. It was the eve of night of the Eclipse Convergence, and while the rest of the Ironclaw Pack was drowning in ale and moonlight, I was hunched over a ledger that detailed the winter grain shortages. “Never let them see you blink, Sera,” my mother’s voice whispered in the back of my mind. It was her favorite mantra. She had been Elena of the Frostwyn line, a woman of ice and steel who had married my father for love, a rarity in our world. She had tried to forge me into a blade, but she had died before the tempering was complete. I was ten when the "accident" happened. A rogue attack, they said. I remember my father, Thomas Vale, howling in the courtyard as her body was brought back. He had been a strong Beta then, a man who looked at the world with clear eyes. But his grief was a vacuum, and Camille was the shadow that rushed in to fill it. Six months. That was all it took for my father to replace a Northern Queen with a Southern Viper, Camille. "Still scribbling, little mouse? You’ll go blind in this light, and then you’ll be even more useless than you already are." The voice was like honey poured over glass. Camille stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. Behind her, Lyra….only a year younger than me but a head taller and twice as broad in the shoulders…..smirked. Lyra is the daughter from her previous marriage. The one my father sees and accepts as his second biological daughter. "The Alpha requested these reports before the ceremony, Camille," I said, not looking up. Using her name was my only act of rebellion. She hated that I didn't call her 'Mother.' "It’s Mother Camille to you, girl," she snapped, stepping into the room. She snatched the quill from my hand, splashing ink across my half-finished page. "Look at you. Covered in soot and ink. You’re an embarrassment to this family. If your father saw you now, he’d be reminded of why he spends his nights at the bottom of a bottle." "My father is in the Great Hall," I replied, my voice tightening. "He’s there because you put the drink in his hand." The slap was so fast I didn't see it coming. My head snapped to the side, the sting blossoming into a dull throb across my cheek. "Don't you dare," Camille hissed, her face inches from mine. "I saved this pack. I saved your father from the pathetic mess your mother left behind. You’re lucky I haven't tossed you into the kitchens to scrub pots with the Omegas." "Why haven't you?" I challenged, finally looking her in the eye. "Is it because none of you can read a ledger? Is it because without me, Draven would have realized moons ago that you’ve been skimming from the treasury for Lyra’s jewelry?" Camille’s eyes widened, then narrowed into lethal slits. Beside her, Lyra let out a huff of indignation. "You think you’re so smart, Seraphina," Lyra sneered, walking over to the shelf and casually knocking over a row of first-edition histories. "But intelligence is a poor substitute for a mate. Tommorrow, the moon will rise. Draven will see me. He will see a Luna. And you? You’ll still be the girl sitting in the dark, playing with numbers." "Draven values results," I said, though my heart was hammering. "He values the strength of the pack." "Draven values whatever I tell him to," Camille whispered, leaning over the desk. She grabbed my chin, her nails digging into my skin. "Finish the reports. Then, you will stay here. You are not to enter the Great Hall. You are not to show your face until the ceremony is over. If I see so much as a strand of your hair near the Alpha, I’ll make sure your father finally signs those papers to have you exiled." They left then, Lyra’s laughter echoing down the stone corridor. I sat in the silence, the ink on the page blurred by a single, traitorous tear. I thought back to the day my life had almost changed. Two years ago. The pack had been failing. Draven Blackmoor had just taken the mantle of Alpha after his father’s death, and he was drowning. I had been in this library, hidden behind a stack of maps, when he stormed in, frustrated and alone. He had slammed his fist into a table, cursing the debt, the borders, and the famine. I should have stayed hidden. But I had seen the error in his map. "The Eastern pass isn't closed because of snow, Alpha," I had whispered, stepping out from the shadows. "It’s closed because the traders are being bribed by the West." He had turned, his hazel eyes fierce, ready to snap at the intruder. But he stopped. He looked at the girl in the oversized sweater with ink on her nose. "Who are you?" he had asked. "The Beta’s daughter," I had said. "The one no one talks about." He hadn't laughed. He had walked over to the map, looked at my notes, and then looked back at me. "Show me," he had murmured. For almost two years, we were a secret. Every night, he would come to the library. We would work by candlelight. He would bring me small treats, a piece of chocolate, a rare book and he would listen. He made me feel like the architect of a kingdom. "You are my secret weapon, Seraphina," he had told me once, his hand resting on the small of my back. The heat of it had radiated through my entire body. "One day, everyone will know that the Ironclaw Pack was saved by a girl with a quill." I had fallen for him then. Not because he was an Alpha, but because he was the only person who had ever looked at me and seen a person instead of a ghost. I had even told Lyra and Camille about us, hoping they would see my value through his eyes. But Camille had been clever. She had positioned Lyra as the face of my work. She had whispered in Draven's ear that I was "troubled," that I "helped" Lyra with the busy work because I couldn't handle the social pressure of being a Beta's daughter. And Draven... Draven had played along. I looked at the ledger again. I had to finish. I wanted him to be proud of me tonight. I wanted him to look at me during the Eclipse and realize that the soul he was looking for wasn't wearing crimson silk. It was right here, in the dark. I picked up the last book… the one he had asked me to audit specifically. "Private Western Trade," it was labeled. I began to cross-reference the numbers. My eyes skipped over the totals, then halted. 30 Omegas. Transfer to 'M'. Payment: 50,000 Silver. I froze. The pen slipped from my hand, leaving a giant black blotch on the parchment. 30 Omegas? I turned the page. More names. Names I recognized. Sarah from the laundry. Peter from the stables. They hadn't run away. They hadn't been relocated to the Southern farms. I looked at the date. It was the same night Draven had brought me a wildflower from the border. The same night he told me I was his "little star." My world didn't just c***k; it shattered. The man I had built an empire for... the man I thought was my mate... was selling our people like cattle or am I mistaken? Could it be a misconception? And then, I heard the click of the door. I didn't have time to hide the book. I didn't have time to wipe the horror from my face. The scent of cedar and rain filled the room, but for the first time, it didn't smell like safety. It smelled like a grave.