On Our Mating Day, He Claimed the Rogue

The morning of my mating ceremony arrived with a flutter of butterflies in my stomach. I stood before the ornate mirror in my preparation chamber, smoothing down the silver silk gown that hugged my curves. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the Bloodstone Pendant—a deep crimson gem encased in intricate silver filigree that Axel had gifted me yesterday.

"It's a traditional heirloom," he'd said with those mesmerizing amber eyes. "It will strengthen our mate bond during the ceremony."

I believed him. Why wouldn't I? He was my fated mate, the Alpha of Moonstone Pack, and in less than an hour, I would officially become his Luna.

"Are you ready?" My handmaiden asked, adjusting the delicate silver crown on my head.

"I think so," I whispered, fastening the pendant around my neck. It felt warm against my skin, almost pulsing with life.

The grand hall of the Moonstone Pack house was breathtaking. Hundreds of candles illuminated the space, their flames reflecting off crystal chandeliers. Pack members lined the aisle, their faces a blur as I focused on Axel waiting for me at the altar. He looked magnificent in his ceremonial Alpha attire, broad shoulders draped in a cape bearing the pack insignia.

I took my first step toward him, then another. The pendant suddenly felt heavier, warmer. Something wasn't right.

Halfway down the aisle, I caught a glimpse of movement on the balcony above—a flash of auburn hair, a silhouette I recognized but couldn't place. Cleo? What was she doing here?

"By the power of ancient blood and sacred bonds," the Elder began, "we gather to witness the mating of Alpha Axel Harvey and his chosen—"

The pendant burst into blinding red light.

Pain tore through me, as if someone had reached into my chest and was ripping out my soul. I heard screaming—my own voice—as darkness swallowed me whole.

When consciousness returned, I was gasping for air. My vision cleared slowly, revealing polished wooden floors and... my own face looking down at me from below.

"What the—?" I scrambled to my feet, disoriented. I was standing on the balcony, not at the altar. And my body—my real body—was still in the ceremony hall, smiling up at Axel with a predatory glint I'd never possessed.

I looked down at my hands. They weren't mine. These hands were smaller, with rogue tattoos circling the wrists—marks that identified their owner as packless, dangerous.

"No, no, no," I whispered, touching my face. Cleo's face. "This can't be happening."

Panic drove me toward the Alpha suite. I needed to see if this was some hallucination, some cruel joke. The corridors blurred as I ran, pack members averting their eyes from the rogue in their midst.

I burst into Axel's private bathroom and froze before the mirror. Staring back at me was Cleo's face—her sharp cheekbones, those calculating green eyes that had always watched me with barely concealed contempt.

"It's real," I whispered, my voice foreign to my ears. "We switched."

Then I noticed