When My Groom’s Mistress Stole My Luna Crown

The kitchen clock read 4:47 AM when Andie and I started grinding the venison. My hands ached already, but I kept working the pestle in steady circles. This was Rudy's fourth birthday. His first shift ceremony was only weeks away, and this cake—this traditional First Shift meat cake—was supposed to mean something.

It had to mean something.

"Your wrist okay?" Andie whispered, taking over the grinding without waiting for my answer. She always knew when I needed her.

I nodded and reached for the moon-blessed herbs we'd gathered last night under the full moon. The recipe had been passed down through generations of Lunas in my family. My mother made one for me. Her mother made one for her. Now I was making one for my son, hoping it would finally bridge the gap Zora had carved between us.

"Shh, keep it down." A servant's voice drifted from the hallway. "Alpha's orders. Miss Zora needs her beauty sleep."

Another servant giggled. "Of course she does. It's not like the Luna's been up all night or anything."

Andie's jaw tightened. I touched her arm gently, shaking my head. We'd learned not to react. Reacting only made things worse.

By the time the sun rose, the cake was perfect. Dense and rich, shaped like a wolf mid-leap, decorated with edible flowers that represented strength and family bonds. My fingers were raw from the work, but looking at it made my chest warm with something I hadn't felt in months.

Hope.

"He's going to love it," Andie said, but her voice wavered.

"He has to." I carefully lifted the platter. "This is tradition. This is what mothers do for their sons."

We found Rudy in the pack garden, right where Elliot said he'd be. My son stood in a patch of morning sunlight, his dark hair—so much like his father's—catching the golden rays. My heart squeezed. He was beautiful. Perfect.

Mine.

"Rudy, sweetheart." I knelt down, holding out the cake. "Mommy made something special for you."

He turned, and for just a second, I saw interest flicker in his eyes. He stepped closer, tilting his head.

Then she appeared.

Zora glided into the garden like she owned it, wearing a white gown that probably cost more than everything in my closet combined. The fabric caught the light, making her look ethereal. Angelic. Next to her, my simple blue dress looked like something a servant would wear.

She leaned down, her lips barely moving as she whispered to Rudy. "That looks like dirt, doesn't it? Real mommies give sweet things."

I saw the change happen. Rudy's eyes went dark. His little face twisted into something ugly, something that didn't belong on a four-year-old.

He smacked the platter.

The cake flew from my hands, twenty pounds of carefully crafted tradition hitting the mud with a wet thud. Herbs scattered. The wolf's head broke off and rolled into a puddle.

"I don't want your ugly dirt cake!" Rudy screamed, his voice shrill enough to hurt. "I