The Replacement Luna Wore My Face

The woman beside my mate had my face.

My exact face.

My mouth. My winter-pale skin. The small scar above my left brow, the one Kael used to kiss when he thought no one was watching.

She wore my silver Luna gown.

She wore my pearl combs.

And Alpha Kael Thorne, the man who had sworn to marry me tonight, held her hand in front of the entire Moonridge Pack as if she were me.

Three nights ago, masked wolves dragged me from my bed.

They cut me open under the moon, left me bleeding in the old woods, and took the only thing every pack was supposed to know by instinct.

My face.

Now I had crawled back through rain and mud to find another woman wearing it at my wedding.

The High Priest lifted the moon blade. "Liora Venn, chosen mate of Alpha Kael Thorne, do you accept the Luna bond before blood, moon, and pack?"

The woman on the dais smiled.

She had practiced that smile.

I knew because it was mine.

"I accept," she said.

My voice came out of her mouth.

Soft.

Perfect.

Wrong.

My wolf slammed against my ribs.

Mate. Wrong. Move.

I pushed through the doors.

Rainwater spilled from my cloak onto the white stone aisle. Blood had dried beneath the bandage at my side. Mud covered my boots. My hair stuck to my neck. I looked like a woman dragged out of a grave and sent back unfinished.

Every head turned.

People who had known me since childhood stared.

Women who had braided my hair.

Guards who had bowed to me yesterday.

Servants who had carried breakfast to my rooms that morning before I disappeared.

None of them said my name.

Kael looked at me.

For half a heartbeat, I saw my mate. The boy who carved my initials into a training post. The Alpha who promised no one would ever make me kneel.

Then his mouth curled.

Not in shock.

In disgust.

"Remove her," he said.

The words hit harder than the knife under my ribs.

"Kael." My voice broke, and I hated it for breaking. "Look at me."

The woman wearing my face stepped down from the dais.

She moved like me because someone had taught her where to place her hands and how to lower her lashes. She stopped close enough for me to smell jasmine oil.

My oil.

"Poor thing," she whispered.

My own voice made the insult gentle.

Two guards grabbed my arms.

Pain flashed white through my side.

"That's not me," I said. "She stole my face."

The hall went silent.

Then someone laughed.

Not loudly.

That made it worse.

Kael came down one step. "Who sent you?"

I stared at him. "You know me."

"I know my mate." His eyes moved over my torn cloak, my dirty hair, the bruise at my throat. "You are not her."

My knees almost gave.

The guards forced them down instead.

Stone struck bone.

The whole pack watched me kneel before a woman wearing my crown.

The false Liora crouched in front of me. Her gown did not touch the mud. Naturally, it did not. My gown had always been trained better than I had.

"If you are hungry, we will feed you," she said. "If you are sick, we will heal you. But you cannot steal what the Goddess gave me."

Then she touched my cheek.

With my hand.

Something inside me snapped.

I lunged.

The guards slammed me down before my teeth reached her fingers.

Kael roared, "Liora!"

For one stupid heartbeat, I thought he meant me.

He did not.

He pulled her behind him and shielded her with his body.

From me.

That was when I saw the wolves in black along the eastern wall.

Ironwood.

Enemy wolves.

No silver banners. No moonlit softness. Just dark leather, quiet blades, and a man in the center watching me as if everyone else in the hall had gone blurry.

Alpha Dacre Vale.

Border butcher.

Enemy Alpha.

The man Moonridge mothers used to frighten disobedient sons.

He was not looking at the woman on the dais.

He was looking at me.

Not only looking.

Breathing me in.

The priest raised the blade again, hands shaking. "The rite must continue."

"No," Dacre said.

One word.

The room made space for him before anyone admitted they were afraid.

Kael turned. "This is not your ceremony."

Dacre walked down the aisle toward me. "Good. Then I do not have to be polite."

The false Liora gripped Kael's sleeve.

Dacre crouched in front of me.

Up close, he smelled like snow, smoke, and steel. His eyes were dark green and not kind.

Kindness had watched me kneel.

Danger was the first thing in the room that looked at me properly.

He reached toward my face.

I flinched.

He stopped before touching me.

Then he looked up at Kael.

"Everyone sees her face on your dais," Dacre said. "I smell your mate in the dirt."

The silence changed.

Kael went white.

The false Liora whispered, "He's lying."

Dacre smiled.

"Ask your wolf, Thorne."

Kael did not.

That told the room more than an answer.

Dacre offered me his hand.

Not grabbed.

Offered.

I took it because my own pack had just put me on my knees.

He helped me stand.

Kael stepped forward. "Take your hands off her."

For one wild second, I thought he meant me.

Then his eyes went to the woman behind him.

Dacre noticed.

So did I.

Whatever soft thing had survived inside me went cold.

"If you want your name back," Dacre said, low enough for only me, "walk out with the enemy."

Behind him, Kael growled. "She is under arrest."

Dacre's hand tightened around mine, not enough to hurt.

"No," he said, eyes still on me. "She is leaving with me."

Gasps tore through the hall.

The false Liora clutched her throat.

Blood slid from the stolen Luna mark beneath her skin.

Thin.

Dark.

Visible.

This time, everyone saw.

Dacre turned toward the doors with my hand in his.

Kael shouted for the guards to stop us.

And for the first time that night, my pack had to choose whether it feared the enemy Alpha more than the truth.