Marina spent her first night as Luna of Bloodfang Pack in a cell beneath the pack house.

Not the dungeons those were reserved for true prisoners, for wolves who'd committed crimes against the pack itself. No, this was something worse: a guest room stripped of all comfort, its windows barred with silver, its door locked from the outside. A prison dressed up as hospitality, as if the pretense made the reality any less devastating.

She sat on the bare stone floor, her wrists still bound in silver rope that burned with every breath. The hemp dress Lyra had given her offered no warmth against the underground chill. But physical discomfort...