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."

My wolf didn’t care about the cold soil beneath our paws or the branches scraping our flanks. We kept going, through the edge of Crescent Ash territory, beyond the trees, past the marked borders where I was no longer Luna, no longer mate, no longer mother.

Only Selene.

When I finally stopped, I collapsed beside a shallow creek, my breath ragged, body trembling. My wolf retreated slowly, allowing the shift to pull me back into my human form. Naked under the moonlight, skin cold and scraped, I lay on the ground and stared up at the stars.

It was quiet. Not like the silence in the house, which felt like punishment. This quiet felt like freedom.

For years, I forgot what it was like to hear my own thoughts. Not Callan’s voice reminding me of duty. Not Astrid’s laughter slicing through my confidence. Not Elias’s hesitations. Just me. Breathing. Existing.

I sat up, arms wrapped around my knees.

The night air whispered through the trees. The wind smelled like pine and wet soil, untouched by the lies I had lived in.

I didn’t know where I was going yet. But I knew I couldn’t go back.

I spent that night curled up under the roots of a large oak, the same kind of tree my mother used to say was sacred to the Moon Goddess. She told me that beneath its branches, no lie could survive. Maybe that’s why I dreamt of her.

In the dream, she sat across from me, hair braided in silver ribbons, eyes soft but knowing.

“You forgot yourself,” she said. “But you’re not lost.”

“I don’t know who I am without them,” I whispered.

“You were someone before him. And you’ll be someone after.”

When I woke, the sun was rising. I pulled on the spare clothes from my satchel and stood barefoot in the dew-covered grass. My wolf was quiet but awake, watchful. She’d been waiting years for this. She was tired of the cage I’d built around us.

I started walking.

By dusk, I reached a small town on the edge of Redstone Pack territory. I’d passed through here once, years ago during a mating ceremony visit. It was nothing like Crescent Ash—no towering gates, no elaborate architecture. Just houses, shops, and honest earth.

I checked into a modest inn under a fake name. I paid in cash, the bills worn from years of saving. The woman at the front desk didn’t ask questions. She handed me a key and offered me soup.

It was the first warm thing I’d had in days.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. There was no one to cook for. No schedules to follow. No marks on my skin remind me who I belonged to.

It felt strange. It felt powerful.

That night, I opened my journal, the one I had packed but never used. I flipped to the first blank page and wrote two words.

I remember.

Because that’s what healing starts with. Not forgetting. But remembering who you were before the world told you who you had to be.

I spent the next few days in silence. I wandered through the town, bought bread with change, sat near the lake, watched children laugh in the distance.

No one called me Luna. No one called me useless.

No one called me at all.

And still, I existed. Still, I breathed.

I thought about Elias. I wondered if he noticed I was gone. I doubted it. They probably assumed I’d sulked off like always and would come crawling back when the anger faded.

But this wasn’t anger. This was awakening.

On the fifth day, I heard a knock at my door. My heart froze.

I moved silently, pressing my ear into the wood.

A voice followed.

Soft. Feminine. But not one I recognized.

“Selene. You don’t know me. But I knew your mother.”

I opened the door just enough to see her face.

She was older. Wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Her hair was streaked with gray, but her presence was steady, commanding.

“I’m Maren,” she said. “Your mother and I trained together before she settled down. She would have sent you to me if she were alive.”

I stepped aside, unsure whether to speak.

She walked in, eyes scanning the room. “I felt your shift. Your wolf is unbalanced. Furious. You need guidance.”

I stared at her. “I didn’t come here to be fixed.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t come to fix you. I came to help you rise.”

I almost laughed. “You’re a stranger. Why would you help me?”

“Because I’ve seen women like you,” she said softly. “And too many never find their way back. They settle for silence. For crumbs of affection. But you…You have left. That means something.”

Her words cut into me. Not like a blade—but like sunlight finding a crack in old stone.

She turned to leave. At the door, she paused.

“There’s a circle meeting tomorrow night. Women like us. Runaways. Survivors. Wolves who were told there were too many. If you come, you come. If not, I won’t ask again.”

She left without another word.

And I stood there, heart pounding.

I sat down and stared at the floor, the clock ticking in the background.

Tomorrow.

Could I face others? Did I even want to?

I touched the scar on my shoulder—the one Callan gave me during our mating ceremony. It used to burn when I tried to leave him, a mark of dominance that bound me to his will.

But now… it was cold. And I realized something.