For twenty years, I stood beside Alpha Callan. I bore his mark, gave him a son, held our pack together while he traveled for alliances and war. I learned every name in the Crescent Ash Pack, every birthday, every death. I stitched wounds with my hands, buried warriors with my tears, and kissed my son goodnight alone more times than I care to admit.

But tonight, as I sit across from him at our long, polished dining table, I wonder when I started to disappear.

Callan sips his wine. The firelight flickers off the silver streaks in his dark hair, and his face is relaxed, unreadable.

I speak quietly, as if my voice still has a right to fill this space. “Do you remember the promise you made me before we mated? That one day, when things settled, you’d take me to see the northern lights?”

He doesn’t look up. Instead, he cuts a slice of meat and chews slowly, deliberately. When he finally speaks, it’s without emotion. “Selene, that was a long time ago. You’re not still holding onto that, are you?”

I force a smile, brittle. “It’s just… with Elias grown, and the pack stable, I thought—”

Callan’s chair scrapes back abruptly. “You thought wrong. We have obligations. Our son just took on more leadership responsibilities, and I need to prepare for the alliance tour next week.”

“But I could come,” I say before I can stop myself. “It would mean a lot.”

His eyes flick to mine, sharp and cold. “Don’t be childish.”

I flinch. I want to say something, anything, but my throat closes. I’ve faced enemy rogues in the dead of winter and stood strong, but here, in my own home, his words cut deeper than any claw.

At the far end of the hall, laughter erupts. Elias, our son, is sitting with his mate, Anaiah, going over travel documents. I can see them grinning, flushed with excitement. They’re leaving soon. Callan too.

My heart stutters. “Am I not going with you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he turns his back and pours another glass of wine.

That’s when I know.

I rise from the table in silence. My footsteps echo against the stone floor as I head toward the study. I need to see it for myself.

The drawer creaks open beneath my fingers. I find the documents easily—Callan’s never been careful about hiding things from me. Five tickets, tucked inside a sleek black folder.

Callan. Elias. Anaiah.

Our Beta, Darius. And… Astrid.

My breath catches.

Astrid. My younger sister. The one who left the pack years ago for “freedom.” The one who never once came to visit, never sent a letter when Mother died. She’s returning now, apparently—to take my place.

I blink back the sting in my eyes.

I remember when we were girls, before all the bitterness. She used to braid my hair while we lay on the grass under the stars. She called me Moonheart back then. Said I looked like the moon had kissed my soul.

Now, the only kiss left is betrayal.

The door creaks open. Callan’s voice follows, calm, unaffected. “Don’t touch those."

I straighten, holding the folder shaking hands. “You invited Astrid.”

“She’s important to the diplomatic effort. She's… elegant. Knows how to speak to foreign alphas.”

I stare at him. “But I’m your Luna.”

His eyes narrow. “You were.”

The silence following that word nearly chokes me. I take a step back, the folder slipping from my hands and hitting the floor with a soft thud.

Callan doesn’t move.

“I gave you everything,” I whisper. “My youth. My strength. My body. I gave you a son. I gave up my own dreams—”

“You gave me what any Luna would,” he says flatly. “Don’t make yourself into some tragic figure, Selene.”

I laugh bitterly. “You’re taking her, and not me.”

He shrugs. “You’re not suited for public diplomacy. Astrid... she knows how to shine.”

He turns and walks away like it’s settled, like none of this matters. The echo of his footsteps in the hallway feels like a drumbeat pounding into my chest.

I return to our bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed. The weight of the silence in this room, once sacred, is unbearable.

I stare at the full-length mirror. My hair is beginning to gray at the temples. There are fine lines near my eyes. But I am not weak. I am not small.

I am Luna.

I look down at my hands—scarred, calloused, strong. These hands delivered Elias. They killed the pack. They kept this house together.

But none of that matters now.

The door opens again, this time softer.

Elias pokes his head in, guilt already painted on his face. “Mom, I—Dad told me not to say anything, but… I’m sorry. I wanted you to come. Really, I did.”

I nod slowly. “It’s fine. You go. Follow your path.”

He lingers, clearly wanting to say more, but he doesn’t. He walks away, closing the door behind him.

I’m left alone in the dark.

A sound buzzes from Callan’s phone on the dresser. I shouldn’t touch it, but my fingers move before my mind can object.

One new message from Astrid:

“Make sure she doesn’t cause a scene. We can’t have the old Luna ruining our perfect little tour.”

My hands go numb.

I stare at the screen, my reflection faint on the black glass.

The moonlight spills through the window, cool and pale against my skin.

The next morning, the house is full of noise. Footsteps. Voices. Laughter that doesn't reach my part of the hallway.

I sit by the window, watching the mist roll across the trees. The Crescent Ash Pack lands stretch far, quiet and beautiful. I’ve walked every path. I’ve bled on some of them. And yet somehow, I feel like a stranger in my own world.

They’re getting ready to leave.

Callan’s voice filters through the corridor, directing the Omegas. “Make sure Elias’s suit is steamed. And someone check the gifts—we’re not showing up to the Bloodfang summit empty-handed.”

His words are clipped and efficient. That’s who he’s always been—a leader. A respected Alpha. Powerful, magnetic. I once thought I was lucky to stand beside him.

Now I know better.

“Selene?” a soft voice calls from the doorway.

Anaiah.

She steps into the room, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s lovely. Gentle. Elias adores her, and I’ve tried—really tried—to do the same.

“I just wanted to say… I hope you’re okay,” she says. “I didn’t know Astrid was coming until yesterday. I thought you were going too.”

I nod, managing a strained smile. “Thank you, Anaiah.”

She hesitates, then crouches beside me. “Elias is confused. He doesn’t understand why his father is doing this. I don’t either.”

Her eyes are warm, searching my face for answers I don’t have. “If there’s anything I can do—”

“There isn’t,” I say gently. “But thank you.”

When she leaves, I remain by the window, hands clenched in my lap. The old Selene would have cried. The old Selene would have gone to Callan, begging for an explanation, for kindness.

But she’s gone.

I rise slowly and walk to the Alpha’s study. The door is half-open. Inside, Callan and Astrid stand close, too close. She leans into him, her hand resting on his chest, her laugh sweet and poisonous.

“I can’t believe she still thinks she has a place here,” Astrid says.

“She won’t be a problem,” Callan replies. “She’s always been too proud to beg, and too obedient to rebel.”

My nails dig into my palm. I should walk away. But instead, I push the door open fully.

Callan flinches. Astrid doesn’t.

“Selene,” she says with a smile. “I was just telling Callan how excited I am for the tour. So many Alpha councils to impress.”

“You’ve always been good at putting on a show,” I reply coolly.

Astrid tilts her head. “Still bitter, sister?”

I step forward, my voice low. “You can have the pack, the title, and even the man. But don’t mistake my silence for weakness.”

Callan scowls. “Watch your tone.”

I look at him, really look, and something inside me begins to harden, like ice. “I watched you steal my life piece by piece and still stayed loyal. But you’ve confused endurance with submission.”

His jaw tightens, but I’m already walking away.

I head for the greenhouse behind the Luna quarters. It’s the only place that still feels like mine. Rows of moonflowers stretch up toward the glass ceiling, pale and beautiful.

I press my hand to the earth. I used to believe that if I just gave enough, the bond would be enough to hold everything together. I believed in duty. In honor. In Callan.

But bonds can rot. Mates can lie. Wolves can be silenced, but not forever.

I close my eyes. My wolf stirs again, louder this time. Not a whisper. A growl.

“I hear you,” I whisper. “I’m still here.”

For so long, I ignored her. I buried my instincts beneath duty and motherhood. I wore the Luna mask so well, I forgot who was underneath.

But she never left.

The door to the greenhouse slams open. Elias rushes in, breathless. “Mom, Astrid said you broke into the study and threatened her.”

My mouth goes dry. “Is that what she told you?”

He frowns. “Is it true?”

“She’s lying.”

He looks torn, unsure of what to believe. I reach for him, but he pulls back.

“Why would she lie?” he asks. “She’s part of this family.”

I laugh, and it cracks through the still air. “No, Elias. She’s always wanted to replace this family.”

His lips part, stunned. “Why are you being like this?”

I don’t answer. Not because I can’t—but because I realize it doesn’t matter anymore. Even my own son doubts me. That hurts more than anything.

He turns and walks away.

That night, I can’t sleep.

I lie in the dark, the bed cold beside me. The ceiling looms like a coffin lid. I think of the tickets again. Of the smile on Astrid’s face. Of Callan’s indifference. Of Elias’s hesitation.

They’re leaving tomorrow.

I sit up slowly and reach beneath the bed. My old journal, dusty and worn, rests in a box of forgotten things. I open it, flipping through memories. Letters. Clippings. A map of the world with circles drawn on the places I used to dream of.

I was going to see the northern lights. I was going to climb the western mountains. I was going to shift to every continent.

I press my hand to the page.

Then I hear it. A knock on the door.

I stand, heart pounding, and open it.

There she is. Astrid.

Smiling.

“I just wanted to say goodbye, Selene,” she says. “And don’t worry. I’ll take good care of everything you left behind.”

She turns to leave, but I step forward, voice steady.

“You didn’t win, Astrid. You only inherited a shell.”

She glances back, lips curling.

“You’ll find that even a shell can still crack.”

And then she’s gone.

I close the door and lock it.

And for the first time, I began to pack.

The next morning, the house buzzes with excitement. Luggage rolls across the floor. Boots stomp. Voices overlap. Omegas rush to and fro with instructions. Everyone has a place, a purpose.

Except me.

I stand by the stairs, watching them bustle around. Elias moves through the foyer, checking his travel bag while Anaiah zips up her dress. Callan adjusts the cuff of his ceremonial coat, barking an order to a young warrior who looks too nervous to reply.

None of them look at me.

None of them even ask if I’ll be joining them.

I should be used to this now. But it still stings, like a thorn pressed deeper each time you pretend it isn’t there.

Astrid enters last, glowing in a fitted white dress that catches the sunlight like polished bone. Her hair is swept over one shoulder, her red lipstick perfect.

She looks like a queen. But she isn't one. Not truly.

She leans close to Callan, whispering something in his ear that makes him smirk. Then she glances at me, eyes full of something between pity and triumph.

I turn away and head upstairs. I can’t watch this. Not again.

My hands shake as I reach for the wardrobe. There, tucked in the back, is a leather case I haven’t opened in years. My old travel satchel. I run my fingers over it slowly, remembering when Callan gave it to me after our mating ceremony.

"For all the places we’ll go together," he had said.

What a cruel joke.

I place it on the bed and unzip it. Empty, like me. I fill it with the essentials—just enough to survive. A few clothes. My old dagger. The crescent pendant from my mother. The travel journal I never got to use.

Downstairs, someone calls my name.

I hesitate, then move to the top of the stairs.

Callan stands there, arms crossed. "Did you pack Elias’s ceremonial robes? I told you to handle that yesterday."

My voice is quiet. "I did. They’re in the third bag."

He doesn’t say thank you. Just nods and walks off like I’m a servant.

Astrid’s laughter floats up the stairs.

I retreat to my room, heart thudding against my ribs like a trapped animal.

I sit on the bed and take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. But the more I try to hold it back, the stronger it gets. My wolf paces beneath my skin, agitated, growling low.

And I let her.

I don’t have to be calm anymore.

A few hours pass before I hear the commotion downstairs. Something’s wrong.

I head down, heart pounding. The foyer is chaos. Bags thrown open. Voices panicked.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

No one answers me. Not until I hear Astrid’s voice—sharp and accusing.

“Hans’s passport is missing.”

Hans is Elias and Anaiah’s son. My grandson.

Callan turns toward me, eyes blazing. “You packed his things. Where is it?”

“I packed it in the front pocket of his blue bag,” I reply.

Astrid lifts the bag, unzips it, and pulls out clothes. No passport.

“It’s not here,” she says, looking directly at me.

“I know I packed it,” I say firmly.

Callan steps closer, his face cold. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” I snap. “Maybe someone moved it.”

Astrid’s eyes glint. “How convenient.”

Callan raises his hand, and I flinch. But the slap never lands.

Instead, he hisses through gritted teeth, “I should’ve known. You’ve been acting off all week. You did this on purpose.”

“No, I didn’t!” My voice cracks, not from guilt but disbelief. “You think I’d sabotage my own grandson’s trip?”

“You’ve always hated when we travel,” Astrid says sweetly. “It’s not a stretch.”

Anaiah steps forward, holding something in her hands.

The passport.

“I found it,” she says softly. “I must’ve moved it when I was rearranging my things. I’m sorry.”

Silence.

My chest heaves, but no one says anything. Not even an apology.

Callan looks away.

Astrid huffs and grabs a bottle of perfume from her bag, spraying herself casually like none of this just happened.

The damage is done. And no one cares.

I walk out the front door and into the garden. My knees hit the ground, but I don’t cry. I can’t.

Instead, I claw at the earth, nails digging into the dirt. The ground smells like spring, like rebirth. Like something new trying to break through.

I whisper, “Please. Just show me who I am again.”

And then something inside me breaks wide open.

The wind shifts. The air thickens.

A low rumble vibrates beneath my skin.

My bones ache, my chest burns, and for the first time in years, my wolf surges forward, claws pressing against my ribs, eyes blazing behind mine.

I see her. She’s not gentle. She’s not quiet.

She is furious. And she is awake.

I rise slowly, my breath shaking, heart thundering.

I go back inside. The family is gathered near the cars, hugging, laughing, preparing for the drive to the airstrip.

No one notices me watching from the staircase.

Callan kisses Astrid on the cheek.

Elias loads the final bags.

Anaiah holds Hans, brushing his hair back.

And I finally understand. This isn’t my home anymore.

It never was.

I walk back upstairs. My satchel waits on the bed.

I zip it up, sling it over my shoulder, and take one last look around the room that once held my whole life.

I won’t miss it. The house will belong to ghosts soon.

But I will not be one of them.

I leave a letter on the pillow.

No goodbyes. Only a single sentence.

"When the moonlight returns, you’ll remember what you lost."