The champagne flutes clinked around me like tiny bells announcing my execution. I stood at the edge of the Grand Meridian ballroom, watching my husband bid on a necklace for another woman. Not just any woman—Joanna, his precious beta secretary with her doe eyes and practiced innocence. "Fifty thousand," Kennard's voice rang out, strong and confident. The same voice that whispered "I love you" on our wedding night three years ago. Before he knew the arranged marriage his dying pack desperately needed would come with an actual person attached. The auctioneer's gavel hovered. "Fifty thousand from Alpha Kennard of the Silver Fang Pack. Any other bidders?" I should have stayed quiet. I should have swallowed the humiliation like I'd swallowed every other slight, every cold shoulder, every night he didn't come home. But something in me—maybe the part that remembered who I really was before I became Mrs. Kennard Shaw—decided enough was enough. "Seventy-five thousand." The ballroom fell silent. Two hundred of the most influential werewolves in the region turned to stare at me. I felt their eyes like pinpricks across my skin. Kennard's head whipped around, his handsome face contorting with fury. "Queenie. What are you doing?" "Bidding," I said simply, taking a sip of champagne. My hand didn't shake. Good. Joanna's perfectly manicured fingers clutched Kennard's arm. She looked up at him with those wide green eyes, her lower lip trembling. God, she was good. I almost applauded the performance. "Kennard," she whispered, loud enough for half the room to hear. "It's okay. I don't need it." Of course she didn't need it. She already had everything else that was mine—my position as Luna, my mate's affection, my place at pack meetings. What was one ruby necklace? "One hundred thousand," Kennard declared, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. The crowd murmured. That was excessive even for a charity auction. But then again, Kennard had always been excessive when it came to Joanna. No expense too great, no gesture too grand. I wondered if anyone remembered that three years ago, the Silver Fang Pack was bankrupt. Kennard's father had gambled away their fortune, left them drowning in debt. They were weeks from being absorbed by a rival pack, their bloodline erased from the registry. Then I came along. Sweet, quiet Queenie from the "minor" Blood Moon Pack. The arranged marriage that saved them all. Nobody knew the Blood Moon Pack wasn't minor. Nobody knew I wasn't just Queenie Shaw, dutiful wife and rejected Luna. Nobody knew I was Alpha King Queenie Moonshadow, ruler of the most powerful pack in the Western Hemisphere. "One hundred fifty thousand," I said. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Kennard's face turned red, then purple. He stalked toward me, and the crowd parted like he was Moses and they were the Red Sea. "Have you lost your mind?" he hissed, getting close enough that I could smell Joanna's perfume on his collar. Jasmine and lies. "Where would you even get that kind of money?" From the same place I got the two million that saved your pack from ruin, I wanted to say. From the same accounts that have been funding your "successful" business ventures for three years. From my own damn fortune that I signed over to you in the marriage contract. Instead, I smiled. "Does it matter?" "Two hundred thousand," Kennard announced without looking away from me. His eyes were ice-blue, beautiful and cold. Once upon a time, I'd thought I could melt that ice. I'd thought our fated mate bond meant something. I was an idiot. "Two hundred fifty thousand," I countered. "Queenie." His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Stop this. You're embarrassing yourself." "Am I? Or am I embarrassing you?" Joanna appeared at his elbow, her face the picture of concern. "Luna Queenie, please. I know you and I have had our... difficulties. But this necklace means something special to Kennard and me. It's a symbol of—" "Of what?" I interrupted, finally looking at her. Really looking at her. She was beautiful, I'd give her that. Young, fresh-faced, twenty-three to my twenty-eight. Everything I apparently wasn't anymore. "Of how he values you more than his own mate?" Her eyes widened, and for just a second, I saw calculation behind the innocent facade. Then it was gone, replaced by tears. "I never wanted to come between you two," she sobbed. "I told Kennard we should stop, but he said—he said the mate bond was just tradition. That real love was a choice." Real love was a choice. My own words, spoken to Kennard when I agreed to give our arranged marriage a real chance, thrown back at me like poison. "Five hundred thousand," Kennard said loudly, addressing the auctioneer. "No limit. Whatever it takes." The crowd erupted in applause. How romantic. How generous. Alpha Kennard, declaring no limit for his beloved. His beloved who wasn't his wife. The auctioneer looked at me, eyebrows raised. "Madam? Do you wish to counter?" I could. I could bid a million, two million, ten million. I could buy this entire hotel and everyone in it. The Blood Moon Pack's wealth made the Silver Fang's assets look like pocket change. But that wasn't the point anymore. "Tell me, Kennard," I said quietly, but my voice carried in the sudden silence. "When you say 'no limit,' whose money are you spending?" His expression flickered. Just for a moment. "My money," he said firmly. "Silver Fang Pack funds." "Interesting." I set down my champagne flute. "And where exactly did those funds come from?"