It was Billy.
He was sitting at a small table.
In front of him was a simple cupcake with a single, unlit candle.
His shoulders were slumped, his lower lip trembling just the way it did when he was trying so hard to be brave. He wasn't smiling.
A voice, distorted and mechanical, spoke from behind the camera. "Make a wish, Billy. Your mother is watching."
His big, warm brown eyes, so full of unshed tears, looked directly into the lens.
"I… I wish Mommy would come get me." His voice was a tiny, broken thing. "I want to go home."
The distorted voice was sickeningly gentle. "She's coming soon. Be a good boy."
The video ended. The screen went black, reflecting my own horrified face back at me.
The silence in the room was shattered.
A raw, guttural sound tore from my throat. It wasn't a sob; it was the sound of my soul being flayed.
He was alive. He was safe. But he was so, so sad. And they were using his sadness to control me.
They were making him perform his own heartbreak for the camera.
She's coming soon.
The words were a promise and a threat. They knew. They knew about the deal. They were orchestrating this.
I slammed my fist against the floor, the pain a bright, sharp counterpoint to the agony in my chest.
I typed a frantic message to the number. Who are you? Let me talk to him!
Message failed to send.
I called. A robotic voice informed me the number was no longer in service.
They had given me a gift and yanked it away, leaving only the hook of desperation buried deep in my heart.
They were reminding me who was really in control."
I picked up the burner phone, my thumb hovering over the screen.
There were no words adequate for this. No grand speech. Just a single, stark syllable that felt like signing my own death warrant.
I typed my reply to the Alpha of the Midnight Sun Pack.
Yes.
I pressed send.
The message whooshed away, a silent detonation. There was no immediate response. No confirmation. Just the terrible, waiting silence of a trap being sprung.
It wasn't up to 30 minutes.
The burner phone buzzed in my other hand, making me jump.
A new number. "This is Clara. I am to be your assistant. The Alpha has instructed me to prepare you for the ceremony this afternoon. Where may I collect you?"
There were no more tears.
The video had burned them all away. What was left was a cold, hard certainty. A diamond of resolve formed in the ashes of my grief.
I sent her the address. This is the way, I told myself, staring at Billy's frozen, sad face on my screen. This is the only way.
An hour later, a knock, firm and efficient, sounded on the door.
I opened it to a woman with a warm, open face and clever eyes that immediately scanned the room, taking in every detail without a hint of judgment.
She held a garment bag in one hand.
"Riley? I'm Clara, your assistant. It's an honor to meet you, are you ready to cause chaos?" she said, a genuine, mischievous grin spreading across her face.
The unexpectedness of it, the sheer normalcy, almost broke me.
A startled, wet laugh escaped me. "Is that part of the job description?"
"Absolutely. Chaos management is my specialty. Now, let's get you out of this dreadful place." She held up the garment bag. "The Alpha sent this. He has… an eye for lines. I think you'll approve."
In the cramped motel bathroom, I showered, the hot water scouring away the last remnants of the night.
When I emerged, Clara had unzipped the bag.
It wasn't a traditional wedding dress. It was a stunning, architectural white jumpsuit, elegant and severe, with a high neck and wide-legged trousers. It was power-wear. Armor.
"See?" Clara said, her eyes twinkling. "He knows you're not a frills-and-lace kind of woman. Now, suit up, boss."
The drive to the Gray manor was a quiet one, but the silence between Clara and me was comfortable, charged with a shared, unspoken understanding.
As the imposing stone gates came into view, my chest tightened. The diamond of resolve felt heavy.
Clara placed a reassuring hand on my arm for a brief second. "You can do this. Just remember to breathe. And maybe don't punch anyone. At least, not on the first day."
I nodded, a real, small smile touching my lips for the first time in days. "No promises."
The car stopped. I took a deep, steadying breath, my hand on the door handle.
This was it.
I pushed the door open and stepped out.
The walk to the manor's grand entrance felt like a mile.
Clara led me not to a grand ballroom, but to a set of double doors made of dark, carved wood. The Council Chamber.
She gave me a final, encouraging nod and opened the doors.
Every head turned.
The room was not large, but it was filled with the most powerful members of the pack.
The Council Elders, stern and unmoving.
Darel, whose face cycled through shock, confusion, and a flicker of betrayal.
Trevor, whose expression was pure, unadulterated rage.
And Selene, whose beautiful face was a mask of frozen courtesy, her smile not reaching her cold, dead eyes.
And at the far end, standing before a simple wooden table, was Falon.
His expression was unreadable, a blank slate of absolute authority.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild bird in a cage. But I didn't look away.
I held my head high, the fabric of my jumpsuit whispering with each step as I walked down the short aisle, feeling the weight of every hostile gaze.
The victim was gone. The woman walking to her fate was a queen claiming a stolen throne.
Falon didn't smile. He simply watched me approach, his stormy eyes missing nothing.
When I reached him, he spoke, his voice low and carrying to every corner of the silent room.
"Council. Family. This is Riley. From this moment, she is my wife. Your Luna."
He gestured to the document on the table.
I picked up the pen. My hand was steady. I signed my name. Riley. Then, beneath it, as the law required, I wrote the name that was now my chain and my weapon.
Riley Gray.
Falon signed with a swift, slashing stroke.
It was done.
A smattering of applause echoed in the room, polite and stunned.
I saw Darel stand abruptly and walk out, unable to watch. My heart ached for him, but I didn't let it show.
As the small crowd began to mill, Selene glided over, her smile radiant and false.
"Riley! What a… surprising union. Congratulations, my dear." She pulled me into a tight, perfumed hug.
Her lips brushed my ear, and her whisper was a venomous serpent. "You have no idea what you're doing, you stupid slut. I don't know how you managed to pull this off but don't think you've won yet."
I pulled back, meeting her dazzling, hateful smile with one of my own. It felt sharp on my face.
"Is that how you speak to your Luna, Selene?" I asked, my voice sweet and deadly. "You might want to be careful. I'd hate for there to be… consequences."
Her smile didn't falter, but her eyes widened a fraction. The predator had just been challenged in her own den.
Before she could reply, Falon was at my side, his hand finding the small of my back.
"There's a crowd gathered outside," he said, his voice low. "They've heard the news. Smile. Wave. Look like you belong to me."
He guided me through a set of doors onto a balcony overlooking the front drive.
Hundreds of pack members were there, cheering, their faces a mix of curiosity and excitement.
Falon raised our joined hands. The crowd erupted.
I stood there, my hand in his, the fake smile plastered on my face, the cheers washing over me.
I was Riley Gray. Luna of the Midnight Sun Pack.
And all I could think was, I'm coming, Billy. Mommy is finally coming.