Chapter 1

My boyfriend lost me in a card game.

To the Lycan King.

Then he posted my fattest photo to the entire pack.

"She's a heavy prize," he wrote. "No refunds."

Three hundred wolves laughed.

None of them knew I had just landed in New York.

Or what I had become.

My phone wouldn't stop vibrating. I was still on the jet bridge at JFK when I opened the Moonfall Pack Channel, the encrypted chat every wolf in the city lived on.

A blood-red banner sat at the top of the screen.

[Congratulations to His Majesty, King Kaelen Draven, on winning tonight's Blood Moon tribute from the Moonfall Pack!]

Below it was the betting slip from the high-stakes table.

Loser: Ryder Hale, Acting Alpha of Moonfall.

Stake: Ava Sinclair.

Me.

Ryder Hale. My secret boyfriend of three years. He had called me every night while I was in Europe and whispered that he counted the days until I came home.

I came home. He had sold me before my plane even reached the gate.

Then he uploaded the photo himself.

It was me at nineteen. One hundred and ninety pounds. Gray sweatpants, puffy face, eyes that begged the camera not to look at me. It was taken a week after my father, the old Alpha, was buried.

[Ryder Hale: Pack, meet our tribute. Fresh from Europe. Your Majesty, if she's too much to carry, I'll throw in a case of moonwine as an apology.]

The comments poured in like a flood.

[LMAO is this a tribute or a punishment??]

[Europe fed her well. She's 250 now, guaranteed.]

[The King is going to need a forklift.]

[Wolfless AND fat. The old Alpha's bloodline really ended with a whimper.]

Wolfless. The word still hit like a slap. For twenty-one years I had never shifted. In a pack of wolves, that made me nothing.

Ding.

A private voice note from Ryder. His voice was thick with whiskey and boredom.

"Ava, don't make this a whole thing. The King was at the table tonight. If I didn't put up something big, Moonfall loses the eastern territory deal. You're the old Alpha's daughter. Serving the pack is your duty. Show up at the Moon Hall tomorrow at midnight. Smile. Don't embarrass me."

My hand shook so hard I nearly dropped the phone.

Three years. I had given him my father's seat at the table. I had given him my trust, my nights, my whole broken heart. To him, I was a poker chip.

Then a poll appeared in the channel.

[BET: Will the fat princess actually show her face at the Moon Hall tomorrow night?]

Ryder didn't hesitate.

[Ryder Hale: $30K says she hides under her bed and cries.]

A sugary voice note followed. Brielle Vance. The pack's queen bee. The woman whose perfume I had smelled on Ryder's jacket a year ago and convinced myself I'd imagined.

"Ryder, don't be so cruel to poor little Ava! She can't help being… you know. Sweetie, if you're scared, just beg him. I'll ask His Majesty to go easy on you."

I walked into the airport lounge restroom and stood in front of the full-length mirror.

I took off my sunglasses. I slid off my heavy coat.

The woman in the mirror wore a black silk slip dress. Sharp collarbones. A waist you could circle with two hands. Long, lean legs carved from a year of four-hour training sessions at dawn. Ninety pounds gone. A design degree from the Royal College of Art. And something else, something sleeping under my skin that no one in Moonfall knew about.

I had flown home for love.

Turns out, I had flown home for war.

I opened the betting channel. Linked my card. Typed in a number.

$50,000 on [She shows up.]

The channel froze for three full seconds. Then it exploded.

[WHO JUST DROPPED 50K ON HER SHOWING UP??]

I wiped away one last tear and sent my first message in a year.

[Ava Sinclair: I'll be there at midnight. Wear something you don't mind getting champagne on.]

The laughter in the channel stopped cold.

Then, for the first time in the history of the Pack Channel, the pure black icon at the very top of the member list lit up.

The Lycan King was typing.