Chapter 1 The Night with Moonspeak

Lila POV

The Grey Security Group anniversary party sparkled on the forty-fifth floor. I adjusted my navy dress, watching Marcus work the room. Even after five years of marriage, seeing him in action still impressed me—the way he commanded attention without trying, how both humans and wolves instinctively respected him.

"There's my beautiful wife."

Marcus appeared at my elbow with two champagne flutes, his hand settling on my lower back in that possessive way I'd grown to love.

"You're supposed to be mingling with the Seattle delegation," I said, accepting the glass. "Not rescuing me from small talk."

"Let them wait. I saw Patterson cornering you about the European markets again." His dark eyes studied my face. "You look tired. Have you been eating enough?"

The concern in his voice made my chest warm. Marcus might be an alpha in business, but with me, he was always attentive to the smallest details.

"I'm fine. Just a long day."

"I know you've been working late on the international contracts." He brushed a strand of hair from my face, the gesture intimate despite the crowd around us. "Maybe we should take that weekend in Napa after all. You've been pushing yourself too hard."

"Marcus, you don't need to—"

"Yes, I do." His thumb traced my cheek. "Taking care of you is my job. My privilege, actually."

I felt the familiar flutter in my stomach. After five years, he could still make me feel like a teenager with a crush. "The elders are waiting for you."

"They can wait a few more minutes." Marcus's smile was the one reserved just for me—soft around the edges, genuine. "Dance with me first?"

"Here? In front of everyone?"

"Especially in front of everyone. I want them to see how lucky I am."

He led me to a small clear space near the windows, pulling me close as a jazz quartet played softly in the corner. Other couples joined us, but I only saw Marcus—the way he looked at me like I was the most important thing in the room.

"I love you," he murmured against my ear. "I know I don't say it enough."

"You show it," I replied, meaning it. The thoughtful gestures, the way he remembered my preferences, how he included me in pack business when most alpha wives were kept on the sidelines. "That's better than words."

"Still." His hand tightened on my waist. "I want you to know. Whatever happens, whatever pressures we face, that never changes."

"What pressures?" I pulled back to look at him.

"Pack politics. Business stress. The usual nonsense." His smile was reassuring. "Nothing we can't handle together."

The song ended, and Marcus kissed my forehead tenderly. "I should go charm the Seattle wolves before they think I'm neglecting them."

"Go be the alpha," I said, straightening his tie. "I'll work on the human investors."

"Perfect partnership," Marcus said, squeezing my hand before heading toward the group of visiting pack leaders.

I watched him go, warmth spreading through my chest. Other wives complained about absent husbands, but Marcus always made time for these moments. Even in a room full of important contacts, he'd prioritized my comfort.

Dr. Elena Vasquez appeared beside me. "You two are disgustingly sweet."

"We're lucky," I said simply.

"The pack mothers are still curious about when you'll expand that luck into the next generation," Elena said with medical bluntness. "Alpha bloodlines need continuation."

The familiar pressure. My smile faltered slightly. "We're not rushing into anything."

"Marcus seems eager enough. He was asking me about optimal fertility windows last month."

"He was?" Surprise flickered through me. We'd discussed children in abstract terms, but Marcus had never seemed in a hurry.

"Very detailed questions about nutrition, timing, genetic screening." Elena's knowing look was unmistakable. "He's planning ahead. Smart alpha behavior."

A wave of nausea hit suddenly. The champagne, the warm room, the weight of expectations—it all felt overwhelming.

"Excuse me. I need air."

I headed for the executive balcony, my mind spinning. Marcus had been researching fertility? The thought should have been romantic, but instead it felt like pressure building behind my ribs.

I stepped onto the stone terrace, gripping the marble railing as cool October wind cleared my head. Below, the city glittered like scattered diamonds. Above, the three-quarter moon cast everything in silver light.

That's when I heard Marcus's voice through the partially open door beside me. Speaking in Moonspeak—the ancient werewolf language.

"The bloodline will be secured within months. Vera carries strong genetics."

My world tilted. I pressed against the glass wall, hidden in shadow.

"And your wife?" Elder Ravencrest's gravelly voice.

"The singing woman serves her purpose in human business, but she's proven inadequate for an alpha mate's primary responsibility."

Each word was a physical blow. Singing woman—dismissive, diminishing. The dance we'd shared minutes ago suddenly felt like mockery.

"Vera understands what's required. No complicated emotions or romantic pretense. Just the practical matter of securing the next generation."

"When will you dissolve the current arrangement?"

"After the child is born healthy. The divorce must appear natural—irreconcilable differences, then a respectable period before the new mating ceremony."

My legs nearly gave out. The man who'd just told me he loved me, who'd danced with me in front of the pack, was planning my replacement. The concerned questions about my health, the fertility research—all preparation for discarding me.

The conversation ended. Footsteps retreated toward the party.

I remained frozen, my perfect evening shattered. Marcus's tenderness had been an act. The weekend in Napa, the careful attention, the "I love you"—all performance while he calculated my expiration date.

My phone buzzed. Through blurred vision, I saw the email: "European Arts Council - Final Approval for Cultural Exchange Position."

The Paris job I'd applied for months ago. A year-long position starting January 15th.

Because of my husband, I kept putting this wish of my own on hold, but now…

Perfect timing.

When I returned to the party, Marcus was accepting congratulations from the Seattle delegation. He caught my eye across the room and winked, that special smile playing on his lips. The same expression that had made me feel cherished ten minutes ago now felt like acid.

"There you are." He appeared at my side, hand automatically finding my waist. "Feel better?"

"Much better," I said, my voice steady despite the screaming in my head. "The fresh air helped."

"Good. I was worried about you." His thumb rubbed circles on my hip—the same gesture that had always comforted me. "Should we head home soon? You've had a long day."

"Actually, I'm feeling much better now." I looked up at him, this man I'd loved completely, who'd been planning my disposal while researching optimal fertility windows. "I think I have my second wind."

Marcus smiled, pleased. "Perfect. Stay close to me for the rest of the evening?"

"Of course," I said, letting him guide me back into the crowd. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

The lie came easily. After all, I'd been living in one for months without realizing it.