Bite the hand

Lila’s pov “You swore I was enough, Darius!” My voice cracked through the opulent ballroom like a whip, trembling with the fury and desperate devotion warring inside my chest. “Tell me to my face that those pups’ blood isn’t on your hands!” The full moon’s silver light poured through the towering crystal chandeliers, casting everything in an ethereal glow that felt cruel tonight. My heart hammered so hard against my ribs that it drowned out most of the sudden hush falling over the gathered pack elites. Their eyes burned into me from all sides—some with pity, most with the hungry excitement of wolves watching a weaker one fall. My wavy chestnut hair felt too tight in its elegant pins, pulling at my scalp, and my ivory gown, once a symbol of my position as luna, now felt like a heavy costume I was about to be stripped of. Darius stood before me, tall and imposing in his tailored black suit that hugged his broad shoulders and muscular frame. His golden eyes, the ones I had stared into so many nights with love, flashed with irritation instead of affection. His jaw clenched, that familiar muscle ticking along the sharp line I used to trace with my fingertips. “Lila,” he growled, his voice low but carrying clearly in the silence. “This is neither the time nor the place for your delusions. Control yourself.” A crystal champagne flute slipped from someone’s hand nearby and shattered on the marble floor, the sound exploding like gunfire. Growls rippled through the crowd in response. The full moon pulled at my wolf, making every emotion sharper, every scent stronger—the aged wine, roasted meat, and the underlying musk of barely restrained power. Tears burned my wide hazel eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not yet. I had been the soft luna for so long. The one who visited the sick pups with herbal teas and stories, who mediated petty fights with kind words, who warmed his bed with genuine love even when politics demanded distance. Even when another female’s perfume clung to his collars. Even when he came back later and later. “I saw the evidence you tried to hide,” I said, stepping closer despite the way my knees wanted to shake. My gown brushed softly against the cool marble. “The planted scents, the forged claw marks that smelled like mine but weren’t. Why, Darius? Was our bond so worthless that you’d frame your own mate for the murder of innocent pups?” Murmurs spread through the ballroom like a rising wind. Elegant she-wolves in shimmering dresses clutched their partners’ arms tighter. Elders in formal robes exchanged heavy glances, their faces set in judgment. The air grew thick with the scent of anticipation and judgment. I could feel their eyes judging me, weighing my softness against the pack’s need for strength. Darius’s hand shot out and gripped my wrist hard enough to bruise. The pain shot up my arm, grounding me in the moment. Up close, I could see the faint shadow of something in his handsome face—maybe exhaustion, or maybe satisfaction at how this was unfolding. “Enough,” he snarled, his breath warm against my face. “You’ve always been too weak for this life, Lila. Too soft. The pack needs real strength now. Alliances that matter. Not a luna who plays house and cries over every little thing.” His words cut deeper than any claw ever could. Memories flooded through me in a painful rush. Our mating ceremony under a full moon just like this one, his strong arms around me as he whispered promises of forever. The way he used to scoop me up after long council meetings, laughing as I teased him about his serious alpha scowl. Late nights where I waited up for him, telling myself the cold side of the bed was temporary. I had ignored so many signs, convincing myself that real love meant staying loyal no matter what. That devotion would eventually bring him back to me. Before I could find more words, the massive oak doors at the far end of the ballroom burst open with a heavy thud. A dozen enforcers in dark uniforms poured in, their silver badges catching the moonlight. At their head strode Elara Thorne, Darius’s mistress. She was tall and confident with sleek raven hair cascading down her back and a deep emerald gown that clung to her curves like a second skin. She moved through the crowd like she already owned the room, heading straight to Darius’s side. “Darius,” she purred, her voice silky and triumphant as she placed a hand on his arm. “The council is ready. Let’s end this farce once and for all.” I yanked my wrist free from Darius’s grip, rubbing the tender skin. Anger and hurt boiled up inside me. “You,” I spat at her. “You did this. Those pups— their deaths are on your hands, not mine.” “Accusations from a failing luna?” Elara cut me off with a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed through the hall. “How predictable. The evidence speaks for itself, darling. Your scent was all over that scene.” An elder stepped forward, clearing his throat loudly. “Alpha Kane, the charges have been reviewed by the council. i*********e. Treason against the pack bloodline. The law demands justice.” Darius straightened to his full height and looked directly at me with eyes as cold as winter frost. There was no love left in them. No regret. Just a hard, final decision. “Tonight,” he announced, his powerful alpha voice booming across the entire ballroom, silencing every whisper, “I, Darius Kane, Alpha of Silverfang, publicly dissolve my bond with Lila Voss. She is no longer luna. She is stripped of all titles, protections, and privileges. For the crimes of murdering our pack’s innocent pups and conspiring against the throne, she is declared a traitor to Silverfang.” The words slammed into me like physical blows. Gasps and murmurs exploded throughout the room. A young she-wolf I had once comforted after she lost a fight covered her mouth in shock, her eyes wide. Others nodded in approval, their faces showing relief that the “weak” luna was finally gone. My knees buckled under the weight of it all, but strong hands from the enforcers grabbed my arms from behind, hauling me roughly upright. “No,” I whispered, my voice breaking completely now. Tears finally spilled down my cheeks. “Darius, please. I loved you. I gave you everything—my heart, my body, my loyalty. I still—” The words caught in my throat, choked by the shattering pain. Devotion had kept me blind for so long, but the truth was ripping me apart in front of everyone. Elara leaned in close to Darius, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered something I couldn’t quite hear. His hand slid possessively around her waist, pulling her against him right there in front of the entire pack. The public claim stung worse than silver chains ever could. It was clear to everyone: she was the new luna now. The enforcers started dragging me toward the side exit. My beautiful ivory gown tore at the hem as my feet stumbled, pearls scattering across the marble like fallen tears. The crowd watched every step—some with pity in their eyes, others with open satisfaction at seeing the pack’s softness removed. The full moon’s light followed me like a spotlight on my humiliation. As we passed a shadowed alcove near the corridor leading to the holding cells, a rough hand brushed against mine in the chaos. A hooded rogue—one of the neutral outsiders invited to the gathering—slipped a small, hidden knife into my palm. The blade was cool and wrapped in cloth to mask its scent. “They’re coming for you at dawn,” he whispered urgently, his voice barely audible. “Don’t let them break you, girl. Fight.” The enforcers didn’t notice. They shoved me forward into the dimly lit holding cell on the lower level of the estate. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind me with a sound of finality that echoed in my bones. Silver chains hung on the far wall, humming faintly with magic designed to suppress any shift or strength. I sank down onto the cold, damp stone floor, still clutching the knife tightly. Moonlight filtered weakly through a small barred window high above, casting long shadows. My mind raced with flashing images: Darius’s cold golden stare, Elara’s triumphant smirk, the innocent pups I had never harmed, the years I had poured into a love that was never real. Devotion had been my cage. But execution waited for me at dawn. With the knife pressed against my palm, something deeper stirred inside me—a faint, warm spark I had always kept hidden. My curse. It whispered promises of strength I could take if I dared. I tested the blade’s edge carefully against one of the chains. The metal sang a soft, defiant note in the quiet cell. I won’t die here, I thought, a quiet resolve beginning to cut through the heartbreak and shock. Not like this. Not after everything.