The moonlight poured through the stained-glass windows of the Moon Goddess Temple, casting a kaleidoscope of soft hues onto the marble floors.

The temple was a masterpiece of serenity, an ethereal sanctuary nestled deep in the heart of the pack’s sacred grounds. The ceiling arched high above, depicting the goddess in her celestial glory, with stars embedded in the stone that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

At the altar, a statue of the Moon Goddess stood tall and commanding, carved from pristine white stone, her gaze both tender and unwavering. She cradled a crescent moon in her hands, symbolizing the cycle of life and protection for her children.

I knelt on the cold, polished floor before the statue, my hands clasped tightly together.

The faint scent of incense lingered in the air, mingling with the floral undertones of lilies and jasmine that decorated the altar. My heart ached with the fervor of my prayer.

“Moon Goddess,” I whispered, my voice trembling as it echoed softly in the hollow chamber, “grant me the strength to protect the life I so desperately wish to bring into this world. Not for him, but for me. For us. A child to love and nurture, a family of my own."

The silence that followed my plea was heavy yet comforting, as though the goddess herself were listening. I lingered in the stillness, my thoughts swirling.

After a moment, I rose to my feet, my movements reverent and deliberate. My gaze shifted to the long oak table near the eastern window, where the maids had left pen and paper at my request. Writing scriptures had always been a source of solace, a tether to my faith, and a means to quiet my restless mind.

I sat down, dipping the quill into ink and letting the gentle scratches of the pen against the parchment fill the space.

Each stroke seemed to channel a fragment of my unease into the words I copied. The weight on my chest began to lift, replaced by the steady rhythm of my breathing. My fingers paused as I rubbed my stomach absently. The thought of a child—my child—brought a tender smile to my lips.

“Momma loves you,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking directly to the life I yearned to hold.

A sharp grunt broke my reverie. Startled, I glanced at my arm and noticed a faint bruise marring my fair skin. My brows knitted together in confusion.

“Where did this bruise come from?” I muttered under my breath. The memory eluded me, and I quickly dismissed it as a remnant from training. I had been pushing myself harder lately, determined to ensure that both I and my child—whenever they came into my life—would be safe.

The sound of measured footsteps echoed behind me, interrupting my thoughts. I turned to see Thad, my mate’s beta, standing at the entrance. His stance was rigid, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable but tinged with concern.

“Luna,” he began, his voice low but steady, “I feel that the Rogues are planning something. I haven’t seen any of them while patrolling. What should I do?”

I paused mid-sentence, my quill hovering over the parchment as unease prickled at the edges of my mind.

Rogues had been a persistent thorn in our side, but their recent silence felt ominous rather than reassuring. My thoughts strayed to Alpha Lorian—my mate—and a flicker of annoyance mingled with worry. Where was he?

“I...” I hesitated, then quickly penned a response on another sheet of paper and handed it to Thad. “The possibility of us being watched by a spy is high, so be careful,” I said firmly, my voice carrying the weight of my authority as Luna.

Thad nodded sharply, his dark eyes glinting with determination. “Understood, Luna. I’ll double the patrols and keep you updated.”

As he turned and left, the temple grew quiet once more, the heavy wooden doors closing with a soft thud behind him.

I returned to my scriptures, but the peace I had found earlier was now elusive. The Rogues’ absence felt like the calm before a storm, and my mate’s conspicuous absence gnawed at the edges of my patience.

The bruise on my arm caught my eye again, its dull ache a reminder of my vulnerability. I couldn’t afford to be weak—not now, not ever.

My mind drifted to the long hours I spent training, the grueling exercises to sharpen my reflexes and fortify my body. It was all for the sake of the family I envisioned, the life I longed to nurture.

The temple door creaked open again, drawing my attention. This time, it was one of the elder priestesses, her presence a beacon of wisdom and calm. She carried a small silver chalice, its contents glinting faintly in the moonlight.

“Luna Isolde,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of centuries of knowledge. “Drink this—it is a blessing from the Moon Goddess herself. It will help ease your worries and strengthen your resolve.”

I accepted the chalice with a nod of gratitude and took a small sip. A warmth spread through me, soothing the knots of anxiety that had taken root in my chest. The elder priestess smiled knowingly, as if she could see the burdens I carried.

“You are stronger than you realize,” she said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Trust in the goddess, and trust in yourself.”

Her words lingered in my mind long after she left. I returned to my scriptures, the quill gliding across the parchment with renewed focus. The temple seemed to hum with a quiet energy, the air alive with the whispers of unseen forces.

Outside, the night deepened, and the moon rose higher in the sky, its silver light bathing the temple in an otherworldly glow. As I finished copying the final scripture, I set down the quill and gazed at the Moon Goddess’s statue.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my heart swelling with a fragile but resolute hope.

For now, I had done all I could. The rest was in the hands of the Moon Goddess—and my own.

The air outside was cold and heavy, thick with a tension that mirrored the unease in my chest. The pack house was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves outside.

I stood by the nursery, trailing my fingers along the crib’s polished edge, its craftsmanship a labor of love for the child I dreamed of holding.

I brushed my hand over my swollen stomach, whispering softly. “You’re my light, little one. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

The promise felt hollow in the face of the growing unease I couldn’t shake. The rogues had been silent for too long, their absence ominous. Even the bond with my mate, Lorian, felt distant, strained. Was it the pressure of leadership—or something deeper?

A low growl broke the silence.

I froze, every muscle tensing. The sound came from outside, just beyond the nursery walls. Before I could react, a crash echoed through the pack house—a window shattering, followed by an ear-splitting howl.

“Rogues,” I hissed.

Grabbing a dagger from the nursery drawer, I bolted into the hallway. My wolf surged to the surface, and I shifted mid-stride, my body rippling as fur replaced skin.

The sudden change sent a jolt through me, but I pushed through it, landing on all fours. My silver coat glinted in the moonlight streaming through the broken windows.

The pack house was chaos. Warriors clashed with snarling rogues, their howls and snarls echoing off the walls. I charged into the fray, instincts sharp, my focus singular: protect the pack and my child.

A rogue lunged at me, its jaws snapping. I dodged, retaliating with a swipe of my claws. The rogue yelped as blood sprayed from its face. Before it could recover, I tackled it to the ground, sinking my teeth into its neck until it stopped moving.

The scent of blood hung thick in the air. My heart pounded as I turned, scanning the battlefield.

A second rogue charged at me, and I braced for impact. We collided, the force knocking me backward. Pain flared in my abdomen as I hit the ground.

“Protect the baby.”

The thought was a desperate mantra as I rolled to avoid the rogue’s snapping jaws. I fought back with everything I had, my claws finding purchase in its side.

The rogue howled, retreating just enough for me to get back on my feet. But the sharp, stabbing pain in my stomach didn’t relent.

Panic flared in my chest. Something was wrong.

I forced the thought aside, focusing on the fight. Another rogue leaped at me, but I sidestepped, slashing at its legs. It fell with a howl, and I delivered the killing blow with my teeth.

Around me, the pack warriors fought valiantly, but we were outnumbered. The rogues surged forward in relentless waves, their snarls echoing through the halls. My vision blurred as the pain in my stomach intensified, radiating outward.

“Not now. Please, not now. Babe, please bear with mom”

I staggered, nearly collapsing, as a rogue slammed into me from behind. My body screamed in protest, but I pushed through the pain, twisting to claw at its side. Blood spattered the floor as the rogue fell back, and I finished it with a snap of my jaws.

The world spun as I struggled to stay upright. A warm, wet sensation spread down my legs, and my heart sank.

“No!”

The realization hit me like a physical blow. The baby.

I doubled over, clutching my stomach with a whimper as the fight raged around me. Another rogue advanced, its eyes gleaming with malice. I forced myself to stand, to fight, but my strength was waning.

A blur of motion caught my eye as Thad, Lorian’s beta, barreled into the rogue, taking it down with a feral snarl. He turned to me, his expression dark with worry.

“Luna, you’re hurt!”

“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice trembling. “Focus on the fight.”

But I wasn’t fine. I could feel it—the life I had carried slipping away, leaving a hollow ache in its place.

The battle continued, each moment a blur of blood and fury. By the time the last rogue fell, the pack house was in ruins, and the wounded lay scattered across the floor. I stumbled to the healer’s station, collapsing onto a cot.

The healer’s face paled as she examined me. Her voice was gentle but firm. “Luna... I’m sorry. The baby...”

I didn’t hear the rest. Her words blurred together, drowned out by the roaring in my ears.

---

Hours later, the pack house was quiet, the rogues defeated, and the bodies cleared. I sat in the nursery, staring at the empty crib. My hand rested on my stomach, now eerily still.

The door creaked open, and I didn’t bother turning to see who it was.

“Luna,” Thad’s voice was soft, hesitant. “We found Alpha Lorian.”

I turned slowly, my eyes narrowing. “Where?”

“On the eastern border. He said he was... scouting.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. Scouting. While I fought for my life and lost our child, he had been absent, his bond a cold, distant void.

I rose from the chair, my movements stiff. “Thank you, Thad. Leave me.”

He hesitated, then nodded, retreating quietly.

I walked to Lorian’s office, each step fueled by rage and grief. His excuses, his absence—they were unforgivable.

My wounds had been treated, but the ache in my chest lingered. I trudged up the stairs to Lorian’s office, my resolve hardening with every step. I needed answers.

The room was dark, the faint hum of his laptop the only sound. I sat in his chair, my claws clicking against the keyboard as I opened his email. My heart raced, dread pooling in my stomach.

The message was right there, bold and glaring on the screen: [I’m back, Alpha Lorian. Meet me at my old pack so we can catch up. -Aveline]

Aveline— His ex-girlfriend.

Rage and heartbreak coursed through me. While I had fought for my life and the lives of our pack, Lorian had been off with her.

My claws scraped against the desk as I clenched my fists.

He returned five days later, reeking of her scent and offering lies about a “diplomatic mission.” I stared at him in the mirror as he made his excuses, my smile cold and hollow.

“Of course,” I said. “I understand.”

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. And as I stared into the reflection of my mate—the man who had failed me—I made my decision. I would leave him, leave the pack, and leave behind the shattered dream of a family I once thought I could build.

The bond between us, once a source of strength, now felt like chains I needed to break.

As I stared at him, I made a silent vow: I would rebuild myself, stronger than before. For myself, and for the life I had lost.

Sitting in front of the vanity table, I fought to keep my face serene, ignoring the storm raging within me. My wolf, Selene, snarled and clawed at my mind, demanding to surface, but I locked her down.

The room was silent except for the subtle rustle of Lorian’s movements behind me.

“I know you were trying to mind link me earlier,” Lorian began, his deep voice breaking the stillness. His large hands rested on my shoulders, but their warmth felt foreign. “I was negotiating with Alpha Jude for an alliance in the East. To earn his trust, I had to block all telepathic communication—even with you. I hope you understand.”

His explanation came too late. Our pack had been ambushed, I had fought for my life, and I had lost our child—all while he was blissfully unaware. I looked at his reflection in the mirror and forced a smile. It didn’t reach my eyes.

“Of course, Lorian,” I said, my tone light. “I understand.”

He frowned, clearly sensing something off. “A-Are you sure you’re not angry at me?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

I shook my head, feigning nonchalance. “No. Why would I be? You were doing what’s best for the pack.”

Relief flooded his expression. “That’s good to hear. I know you can’t afford to stay mad at me for long,” he added, a cocky smile playing on his lips. “That’s why I stopped by your favorite bakery on the way back. I wanted to bring you something sweet to make up for being away.”

He set a basket tied with a delicate ribbon on the table in front of me. The scent of the pastries wafted up, and I stiffened. My heart dropped as I recognized the aroma of kiwi.

Kiwi—the one fruit that could trigger my severe allergies.

I shot to my feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I hope you remember that kiwi is dangerous for me,” I said, my voice shaking.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait—kiwi? I thought you loved them. I must’ve mixed things up.” His eyes widened as realization dawned. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Isolde. I wasn’t thinking.”

No, more like he was thinking of Aveline. Kiwi had been Aveline’s favorite, not mine. My wolf growled at the thought, the sharp edge of betrayal cutting through me.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I tilted my head and said, “Perhaps you confused me with someone else.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, his tone defensive. “I bought them for you. I just... I don’t know how I made such a mistake.”

“It’s fine,” I said, my voice flat. “Maybe the servants will appreciate them.”

Lorian hesitated, then nodded, picking up the basket. “I’m really sorry, hun. Things have been hectic with the rogue attacks. I’ll try harder, I promise.”

The words felt hollow. I simply nodded, unwilling to waste my breath.

“By the way,” he added, “why were you trying to mind link me earlier? Was something wrong?”

“No,” I lied, keeping my voice even. “Everything was fine.”

Before he could press further, his eyes suddenly glowed yellow—the unmistakable mark of his wolf taking over during a mind link. His jaw clenched, and his hand twitched as he communicated silently. The moment ended as quickly as it began.

“I have a situation to handle,” he said abruptly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Without waiting for my response, Lorian strode out of the room, leaving me standing there, a maelstrom of emotions churning within me.

As the door clicked shut, my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. My arms trembled as I clutched them to my chest, my nails digging into my palms.

Selene whimpered in my head, a mournful sound that mirrored the hollow ache in my heart.

“He didn’t even notice the bruises. He didn’t notice anything.”

As I sat there, my mind racing, a sharp, stinging pain flared across my side. I gasped, lifting my shirt to reveal a fresh gash across my ribs. Blood seeped from the wound, staining my clothes.

I didn’t need an explanation. The pain wasn’t from a physical attack—it was from the bond. My mate’s infidelity. The realization hit me like a physical blow. He was with her again. Aveline.

Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. My mate had betrayed me in every possible way. He had abandoned me during the rogue attack. He had failed to protect our child, the pack, and now he had betrayed the sacred bond we shared.

Rising unsteadily to my feet, I stumbled to the bathroom.

I cleaned the wound as best as I could, each movement mechanical. The sight of the blood should have made me feel something—rage, despair, heartbreak—but I felt numb.

Once I was done, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor. I couldn’t stay here. Not anymore.

Selene’s voice growled in my mind, “We deserve better. We need to leave.”

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind, connecting with the one person I knew I could trust.

“Dad,” I said through the mind link. “I accept your offer to join the Lycan Dominion as a pack doctor. Please send me the details so I can prepare.”

There was a brief pause before his voice responded, filled with relief and concern. “I’ll arrange everything. Are you sure about this, Isolde?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “I’m sure.”

I cut the link before he could ask more questions. There was nothing left for me here. My mate—he had failed me in the moments I needed him the most.

Rising to my feet, I began packing a bag, each movement deliberate and final. This wasn’t just about leaving. It was about reclaiming my life, my dignity, and my strength.

As I zipped the bag shut, I looked around the room one last time. This place had been my home, my sanctuary. Now, it was nothing more than a cage.

Selene’s voice rumbled in my mind, her tone fierce and determined. “We’ll rise again, Isolde. Stronger than ever.”

With a final glance at the room, I turned and walked out, my steps steady and sure. My heart ached, but my resolve was unshakable. This was the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

Lorian might have broken me, but I would heal. And when I did, I would be unstoppable.

But just as I was about to leave the borders, something happened.