(Amara's POV)

The neon lights of the club pulsed against my skin as I pushed through the front door.

The music was deafening. The crowd was thick. I hated every second of it.

But I had one job tonight - find Dorian, get his signature on the medical supply documents, and leave.

That was it. Simple.

Dorian was the future Alpha of our pack. He was also the person I had quietly loved for over a decade.

My parents were the finest warriors in the pack. They died when I was still small, giving their lives in service to the territory. After that, the Gamma and his mate took me in. They weren't cruel, exactly. Just cold. Distant. Like I was an obligation they fulfilled without feeling.

Growing up, I heard the whispers. People said it was laughable - a foster daughter with no bloodline, dreaming of standing beside the future Alpha as his Luna.

But Dorian never said those things to me. When I told him once that people were talking, he just told me not to worry about it. That was enough to keep me hoping. That was enough to keep me staying.

I had spent years at his side. Preparing his lunch every morning at the academy. Finishing assignments when he was too busy with training. Telling myself that this was love - quiet, patient, unconditional.

I told myself he would see me eventually.

I found the VIP lounge without much trouble. The door was slightly open, and his voice carried over the music.

I stopped just outside.

"She's the Gamma's foster kid," Dorian was saying. His tone was casual. Almost bored. "Whatever she imagines, it doesn't matter. My Luna needs real bloodlines. Someone who can bring honor to the pack. Not some girl with no origin and no standing."

Laughter erupted from the group inside.

"She's been following you around for years," someone said. "Like a little puppy."

More laughter.

Dorian's voice came again, smooth and cold. "She's useful at the medical center. That's all she's ever been."

I didn't move.

I couldn't.

Each word landed like a blade, and I just stood there and let it happen.

I had told myself for years that he simply hadn't noticed. That he was busy. That the timing wasn't right. I had built an entire architecture of excuses to protect the feeling I carried for him.

But he had noticed. He had always noticed.

He just didn't care.

I turned around and walked to the bar.

I sat down on a stool and stared at the rows of bottles behind the counter.

"Whiskey," I said. "The whole bottle."

The bartender hesitated, then set it in front of me.

I poured the first glass and drank it in one swallow. Then I poured another.

The alcohol burned going down, but I welcomed it. I wanted to burn.

Memories rose with the heat. My mother's face, which I barely remembered anymore. My father's voice, which I had mostly forgotten. The Gamma's mate sliding a plate of food toward me without looking up from her book. Dorian laughing at something I said once, and me saving that laugh in my chest like it was treasure.

Every lunch I packed. Every late night I stayed to help him. Every time I told myself that caring for someone without asking for anything back was a virtue.

I pressed my fingers against my eyes.

"Amara," I whispered to myself. "You really are a fool."

By the time I was halfway through the bottle, the room had started to tilt.

I needed air.

I slid off the stool and moved toward the back hallway, where I thought I remembered seeing an exit sign. The floor was unsteady beneath me, or maybe that was just me.

I turned a corner and walked straight into someone.

I stumbled hard. Two hands caught my arms and kept me upright.

"Careful," a low voice said.

I looked up.

And then I smelled it.

Cedar and mint. Clean and sharp and steady. It cut straight through the whiskey fog and hit something deep in my chest.

My wolf, Cora, had been quiet all night. She exploded awake.

Mate, she howled inside me. Mate. Mate. MATE.

The word detonated through every nerve in my body.

I didn't think. I couldn't think. Cora was louder than anything else, louder than reason, louder than the humiliation still raw in my chest.

My hands found his shoulders. Then his neck. I pulled myself closer and buried my face against his skin, breathing him in. Cedar. Mint. Something underneath that was just him, just this, just the thing Cora had been waiting for without my knowledge.

"Easy," he said. His hands tightened around my waist. His voice was low, controlled, but there was something in it - a tension, a restraint.

Cora didn't care about restraint.

I felt my teeth against his neck before I fully understood what I was doing.

I bit down.

A current tore through me from the point of contact - electric, total, overwhelming. It moved through my bones and behind my eyes and down to my feet.

Then everything went dark.

The sunlight was brutal when I woke up.

It poured through floor-to-ceiling windows and landed directly on my face. My head throbbed with every heartbeat. My mouth tasted like regret and whiskey.

I was in a bed. A large one. The sheets were expensive and unfamiliar, and they smelled like cedar and mint.

I sat up too fast. The room spun.

Fragments of the night came back in pieces. Dorian's voice. The bar. The hallway. The smell. Cora screaming. The bite.

The bite.

"You're awake."

The voice came from the doorway.

I turned.

A man stood leaning against the door frame. He was shirtless, arms crossed, watching me with an expression that was difficult to read. His eyes were green - sharp and clear and completely steady.

On his neck, just below the jaw, was a mark.

My mark.

Teeth-shaped. Already slightly bruised at the edges.

I had bitten Alexis Storm.

The Alpha King of the Eastern Territory.

He looked at me for a long moment. Then the corner of his mouth moved - not quite a smile, not quite a smirk.

"Little healer," he said, "I think you owe me an explanation."

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

Only one thought was running through my head, over and over, cutting through the hangover and the shame and the impossible reality of what I had done.

Please. Please don't let this start a war between our packs.