Chapter 4

When Lane Conlay stepped back into her bedchambers, the air still smelled faintly of the expensive charcoal she had purchased for Brenda’s wing. She closed the heavy wooden door behind her, letting out a long, slow breath, only to freeze when her eyes caught the vanity.

Right in the center, next to her crystal perfume bottles, sat a heavy, brass-capped glass jar filled with coarse grey sand.

She walked over to it, her expression remaining completely blank as she picked it up. Ethan had gone to the northern border and scooped up this dirt from the exact site where her father and five brothers were slaughtered, thinking it would act as a perfect bribe—a cheap token of his "faithfulness" to keep her quiet while he claimed a second Luna.

With a cold, steady hand, Lane carried the jar over to the furthest, darkest corner of the room and set it carelessly on the floor. She didn't need it anymore. Ethan thought she was a fragile, sheltered lady who needed a man to fetch her memories for her. He forgot that once she legally severed this bond and stripped the Blackwood Pack of her wealth, she would be entirely free. She could pack her things, ride to that far-off land herself, and stand on that earth with her own two feet.

As she stared at the jar in the dark, a powerful, comforting warmth bloomed inside her chest.

*‘Let him keep his dirt,’* her wolf’s voice echoed in her mind, deep, resonant, and fiercely proud. *‘We do not need the scraps of a traitor.’*

Lane's wolf was not the weak, docile creature Ethan claimed she was. She was an Alpha-ranked wolf, carrying the pure, unbroken bloodline of the Silvermoon commanders. The only reason she had been dormant, the only reason Lane hadn't reached her full, devastating potential, was because traditional wolf law required a female Alpha-blood to merge with a mate's bond to fully unlock her power.

*‘We are perfectly fine without a mate,’* Lane whispered back to her, her jaw tightening as she looked out the window at the moonlit territory. *‘We can manage on our own. We don't need a man's mark to be strong.’*

*‘Agreed,’* her wolf purred, a dangerous, low growl vibrating beneath her words. *‘We will show them what a true Alpha bloodline looks like when it is no longer holding back.’*

The next morning, before the sun could even break over the horizon, Lane and Maya slipped out of the Blackwood packhouse through the servants' entrance. They carried only two modest trunks containing their absolute essentials, leaving behind a castle that was bound to freeze the moment Lane's lawyers froze the bank accounts.

They took a small, unmarked carriage, but before heading toward the Royal Capital, Lane made one final request. "Pass by the Silvermoon territory first, Maya."

When the carriage finally slowed to a halt, the silence that greeted them was heavy and suffocating. Lane stepped out onto the damp grass, looking over the sprawling, broken gates of her childhood home. It was completely empty. No living soul walked the paths. No pups laughed in the distance.

Standing there, the terrifying memories of the night she rushed home from the academy came rushing back to her. She remembered the biting, glass-sharp cold in the air. She remembered the horrifying sight of hundreds of her pack members lying lifeless in the courtyards, their blood soaking into the frozen earth. Only a handful of traumatized omegas and children had survived, hidden away in the deep cellars, whom Lane had immediately relocated and funded out of her own pocket.

Maya stepped up beside her, pulling her cloak tightly around her shoulders. She looked around the unusually clean courtyards, her brow furrowing. "Milady... it’s strange. I heard from the border merchants that someone usually comes here to clean up. They said a squad of elite royal soldiers is sent to tend to the grounds and maintain the main structures almost every single day."

Lane blinked, looking at the swept stone pathways. The royal soldiers? Why would the crown waste resources maintaining a ghost pack’s empty territory?

Before she could ponder it further, the sheer weight of grief pulled her down. She sank to her knees on the damp earth right before the ruined ancestral hall, her hands resting against the soil. Maya immediately knelt beside her, her head bowed in deep respect.

"Father... brothers," Lane whispered, her voice cracking as tears finally welled in her eyes. "I am sorry. I promised mother before she passed that I would live a good life. I thought a safe life with Ethan, a life of peace, was what she meant. But I cannot do it with him. I cannot let him trample over our family's honor."

She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, her gaze turning rock-hard as she stared at the empty halls. "I only want to live a good life. A dignified life. And I will find a way to do it on my own terms. Please, watch over me."

Hours later, the carriage arrived at the massive, towering golden gates of the Alpha King’s royal palace. The white stone walls stretched into the sky, guarded by armored sentries who looked down at them with cold, unmoving expressions.

When they requested an audience, they were flatly denied. The King was busy with war councils; a lone she-wolf without an Alpha escort had no standing to demand entry.

Refusing to turn back, Lane walked to the stone pavement directly outside the main gates, smoothed out the skirts of her dark green travel gown, and knelt down.

"Milady, please," Maya whispered frantically, kneeling right beside her, her eyes darting nervously toward the mocking stares of the royal guards. "We should leave. This is humiliating. The Alpha King won't let us in like this. He is the ruler of the entire continent; he won't lower himself to look at us."

"Keep kneeling, Maya," Lane said, her voice steady, her posture perfectly straight as she stared directly through the iron bars of the gate. "We are not leaving."

Lane knew the risk, but she also knew the history. The Alpha King had a deep, personal connection to her family. Decades ago, before he ever wore the crown, Lane's father had been his mentor, his commanding general, and his closest confidante on the battlefield.

Images of her childhood flashed through her mind. She remembered the King visiting their estate when he was just a young prince. He used to sit at their grand table, laughing boisterously, and would teasingly nudge her father, asking if Lane would grow up to become his queen and the future Luna of the continent. Her father, completely unimpressed by royal titles when it came to his only daughter, would always reach over and smack the young prince upside the back of his head, telling him to stop talking nonsense before he threw him out of the territory.

The King had loved her father like a brother. He would not ignore the Conlay name forever.

Back at the Blackwood packhouse, Alpha Ethan Blackwood sat in his office, reviewing the inventory reports from the war. The room felt strangely cold, and for some reason, the servants were moving around the estate with frantic, terrified expressions, though he couldn't care less to ask why.

Suddenly, the heavy office doors burst open. A breathless pack guard rushed in, sweating profusely, and dropped to one knee.

"Alpha Ethan!" the guard gasped. "We have a report from our scouts stationed near the Royal Capital. It's... it's about Luna Lane."

Ethan paused, a smug, knowing smirk spreading across his handsome face. He leaned back in his leather chair, interlocking his fingers. "Let me guess. She realized she has nowhere to go, got scared of the rogues, and is crying at the border?"

"No, Alpha," the guard swallowed hard. "She bypassed our borders entirely. She and her personal maid are currently kneeling outside the main gates of the Alpha King's palace. She is demanding an audience with the King himself."

Ethan’s smirk instantly vanished, replaced by a wave of pure irritation. He let out a sharp, mocking laugh, slamming his hand onto the desk.

"That dramatic, foolish woman," Ethan muttered, shaking his head in utter disbelief. "She actually went to the Capital? She thinks she can beg the Alpha King to cancel my upcoming marriage to Maris? She thinks the King cares about a woman's petty jealousy?"

He stood up, walking over to the window, his chest swelling with the absolute certainty of his own power. He had just won a war for the crown. The King had personally signed the decree allowing Maris to be recognized for her military service.

"Let her kneel," Ethan scoffed coldly, turning back to the guard. "Tell the scouts to just watch her. Don't interfere. Her efforts are completely useless. The King is a busy man; he doesn't have time to entertain the tantrums of a weak, coddled she-wolf. Once her knees start bleeding and she realizes the royal court doesn't give a damn about her broken heart, she will come crawling back to the Blackwood pack on her own. And when she does, she will finally learn to accept her place."