REBIRTH OF THE MUTE HYBRID LUNA

Athena's POV * The doors didn't open quietly. It exploded. I was awake before the wood stopped splintering. My hand found the dagger under my pillow as boots thundered into our bed chamber. "On your feet, Luna." Five of them. Silver chains dangling from gloved fists. I didn't ask questions. I moved. The first one went down with my knee in his throat. The second one caught my elbow to the temple. The third got the dagger—not deep, just enough to make him drop. But the fourth was faster. The fifth was behind me. The chain came around my neck. The burn hit like I'd swallowed fire. I clawed at my own throat. My wolf, Mia, slammed against my ribs, snarling. Silver. They're using silver. "Get it off me." They didn't listen. Another chain around my wrists. My skin sizzled. I could smell myself cooking. "What is the meaning of this?" I twisted, trying to throw one of them off. "I am your Luna. And you will tell me what is going on." Nobody answered. I knew every enforcer in the royal guard by name. Brennan, near the left pillar, had danced at our wedding reception yesterday with his wife. Elijah, by the door frame, had actually wept when Torin placed Luna's crest around my neck. These were not strangers. These were men I had broken bread with fewer than twelve hours ago. "We have orders from the King," Elijah said. He still wouldn't look at my face. The King. My mate. Just last night, his mouth was on my neck. *You have no idea what you do to me,* he'd murmured, voice thick with want. *Sitting on the moon throne, watching you walk through those doors. I can smell your arousal from across the room, you know that?* I laughed. *That's embarrassing for you, my king.* *Embarrassing?* He'd pulled me closer just enough to look at me, eyes black with desire. *I sat on the moon throne for an hour, hard as rock, because my wife's scent was driving me insane. Every time you shifted in your seat, I thought I'd lose my mind.* "Move." The present day snapped back like a whip. The palace halls were full of people. They stepped back as the enforcers dragged me through. Like they were clearing a path for something contagious. I caught fragments of whispers. What happened? Mia was pressed against my ribs, low and tense. What happened between last night and now? I didn't have an answer. And in the silence, Mia pressed forward, frantic, reaching for the bond the way you reach for a light switch in a dark room. Certain it will be there. Certain because it has always been there, since I was eighteen years old and looked across a crowded treaty hall and felt something in my chest snap into place like a bone setting itself. Torin, she called through the mate bond. Nothing. She reached further. Torin, answer me. A wall. Cold and deliberate. Not the muffled sensation of him sleeping or distracted or far away. A wall. Built by someone who knew exactly where the door was and had chosen to seal it. Cold ran through me. The great doors to the throne hall opened before we reached them. Nobles. Elders. They lined the walls like vultures and at the centre of it all—the moon throne. Torin was sitting in it. He sat the way he always sat on that throne. Dark hair. Jaw set. Dressed in full ceremonial black, the Lycan King's sigil at his collar. He was looking at the middle distance. Not at me. My husband. My mate. The man who had held me three hours ago and whispered I love you against my hair while I drifted off to sleep. He wasn't looking at me. "Kneel." They threw me to my knees in the throne hall. Pain shot up my legs, chains clanging harshly against the marble, but I refused to stay down. I pushed up, forcing myself to stand despite the burn eating into my skin. "Athena of the North.” The voice came from my left. Callis. The King’s Beta. Late fifties. Known for exactly two things: kissing ass and hatred for me and my father. His daughter had once been betrothed to the King, until the mate bond snapped between Torin and me He was holding a scroll. "You stand before this court," he said, "accused of the highest crime against Alpha blood." My brow pulled together. "The poisoning," Callis said, "of Alpha Dean of the North." The room went very still. And then, slower than it should have, like my mind was protecting me from the speed of it — the words rearranged themselves into meaning. Alpha Dean of the North. Papa. My father. The floor dropped out from under me. "My father," I said. "You're saying my father—" "Alpha Dean passed before dawn." Callis didn't flinch. "The pack doctor has confirmed the presence of nightbloom extract in his blood." He paused. "Administered yesterday." Yesterday. The memory crashed in. My father, smiling, as I handed him the ceremonial wine. His eyes wet. Torin's hand on my waist. To my daughter, my father had said, raising the glass. And the Lycan King. May their bond outlast the mountains. He'd drunk. We'd all drunk. Oh god. I looked up at Torin. He was still staring at the middle distance. Somewhere above my head. "Torin." My voice cracked. "Tell them. Tell them it's not true. Why would I kill my own father?" He didn't move. "Your father was found dead three hours ago," Callis continued. "The poison was in the wine you gave him. Every cup was clean except his." "That's not—" I shook my head. "That's not possible. Someone put it there. Someone else—" "The evidence is clear." "Then it's wrong!" I tried to move. The chains pulled me back. Mia thrashed inside me, clawing at the silver burn. "You can't do this. I demand a trial. I am a princess of the North and your Luna, and you will not—" "Enough." Torin's voice cut through everything. It was not the same voice he'd used last night. Not the one that had told me come here, sweetheart, and let me take care of you, and I'd burn this world down before I let anyone hurt you. But when his eyes finally met mine, there was nothing in them. "Athena of the North." He said my name like a stranger would. "For the murder of your father, Alpha Dean, I sentence you to death by hanging at moonrise." The room erupted. "A trial." I was begging. I could hear myself begging, and I couldn't stop. "Torin, please. Please. Give me a fair trial. Let me prove—" "Moonrise," he repeated. "The sentence is final." "No." The word ripped out of me. "You can't. We're mates. You know me. You know I wouldn't… you held me last night." For a fraction of a second, something flickered across his face. Pain. Maybe. And then he looked away. Like I was nothing. Like the past six years meant nothing. Like last night—my body still aching from his hands, his mouth, the way he'd said mine over and over until I forgot where I ended, and he began. Like none of it had ever happened. The enforcers pulled me to my feet. The crowd parted. And as they dragged me toward the dungeons, I reached for the bond one more time. Torin.