I was tired of life.

Tired of pretending. Tired of playing Luna to a man who only loved the idea of me, never the mess I really was.

But Lucas… Lucas didn’t let it slide.

The black SUV door shut behind him with a soft click, and there he was—crossing the street like the shadows were his to command. Every step of his boots on gravel echoed louder than it should’ve. Maybe because the air between us was so full. Heavy. Waiting.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stared. That quiet, ancient intensity burning in his golden eyes. Not the gold of a hero. The gold of something hunted, wounded, and still dangerous.

And then—his voice. Low, rough. Like it’d been soaked in fire and silence.

“Then maybe…” he said, each word slow, precise, brutal, “you should choose me.”

I blinked.

No.

No, that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Lucas was always the one in the corner. The unspoken loyalty. The quiet ache. The only person who ever looked at me like I was more than a Luna-shaped trophy.

“I wasn’t trying to make Kael jealous,” I said, my throat dry. “I just… I need space. I need—”

“You need someone who sees you.” His eyes burned through me. “And I do. I always have.”

My heart twisted. God.

Lucas didn’t love loudly. He never had. But when he did, it cut deeper than knives.

So I did what I always did when I was about to unravel—I made it a joke.

“Sure,” I said lightly, “after the divorce papers are signed, you’ll be first on my list.”

And then I walked away. Fast. Like the world would crack open if I stayed a second longer.

But I felt him behind me, like a storm that never stopped watching.

That night, my phone buzzed once.

Lucas: I’m done waiting.

I stared at the message.

What did that mean?

I stepped onto the balcony, breath catching in my throat.

There he was.

Still.

The same SUV, still parked. Him leaning against it, like he had nowhere else to be. A cigarette dangled from his fingers.

Lucas never smoked.

The moonlight hit him just right, like it chose him—silver tracing his sharp cheekbones, glinting off the edges of pain he never spoke about.

Our eyes met.

And he smiled. A slow, broken kind of smile. The kind that says, I already know how this ends, but I’d do it anyway.

He got in his car. And left.

But my chest didn’t unclench.

It never would—not where he was concerned.

Kael came home before sunrise. He smelled like winter wind and someone else’s perfume.

“Smoke?” he snapped the second he walked in, disgust curling his upper lip. “You stink. Try not embarrassing me for once.”

I hadn’t smoked.

But I’d stood beside someone who had. And for once, I didn’t try to hide it.

“I’ll take a shower,” I said quietly.

He followed. Of course he did.

“You’re acting different.”

I didn’t reply.

His gaze caught something near my collarbone. The edge of a bruise that hadn’t faded. The one Lucas hadn’t meant to leave when he grabbed my arm in the dark, begging me not to go back inside.

“What happened to your neck?” Kael demanded.

I moved away. Reflex.

And that small recoil—it undid him.

His hand clenched. “You ungrateful—”

I cut him off. My voice was low. Steady. “If I’m such a burden… maybe we should get a divorce.”

Silence.

And then laughter. Bitter. Cruel.

“You? Leave me?”

He stalked forward.

“You wouldn’t last a day. You don’t even have a scent strong enough to be claimed again. No one would want you.”

I didn’t flinch. Not this time.

He paused, nostrils flaring. “You think Lucas would keep you? He was raised to serve, not to claim. You think that mutt would choose you over blood?”

He waited. Wanted me to shatter.

I didn’t.

Instead, I washed my hands in the sink. The sound of water was louder than the sound of my heartbeat.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was cold.

“Grandfather’s party. Wear something red. You’re coming.”

Not a question.

Just control. Disguised as a schedule.

He picked me up early.

And in the front passenger seat, legs crossed and lipstick fresh, sat Mira.

She turned when she saw me. Soft smile. Hollow eyes.

“Evening, Luna.”

She didn’t need to say more.

Her scent was on the seat. On his shirt.

On my life.

Kael didn’t explain. He never had to.

And I didn’t ask. I climbed into the back seat and folded my hands in my lap like a girl raised to survive instead of scream.

But as the engine rumbled to life and Mira laughed at something only Kael could hear, I felt something shift in me.

Not rage.

Not heartbreak.

Something older.

Something quieter.

Like smoke.

Like silence.

Like the moment just before the howl.

I didn’t hesitate when I gave my answer.

But Lucas… he didn’t take it well.

He stepped out of the Pack’s official black SUV like a shadow pulled straight from the forest—silent, deadly, and aching with command. His strides were deliberate, his presence soaked in quiet dominance. Even the gravel dared to crunch under his boots in rhythm, as if honoring his bloodline.

And me? I was already trembling before he even spoke.

When he stopped inches from me, the scent of pine, smoke, and danger clung to him. His jaw flexed. His golden eyes, the color of old whiskey in firelight, pinned me where I stood.

“Then maybe…” His voice—Moon, help me—his voice was low and rough, edged with something that belonged to the wild and the ancient. “You should consider me instead.”

My breath snagged.

Lucas? The Pack’s Beta. The one who walked in Kael’s shadow, loyal to a fault. The one who never overstepped.

This wasn’t revenge. It wasn’t rebellion.

It was the sound of something in me cracking.

I wasn’t angry at Kael. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. I was just tired. So deeply tired. The kind that settled in your bones when the fairy tale ends and reality doesn’t give you a happily ever after.

I wanted peace. Stillness. Silence from the storm.

So I did what I always did—dressed my broken heart in sarcasm and pushed it away. “Sure. Once the divorce is final, I’ll come find you.”

Then I walked off, pretending the burning in my throat was just the cold. Pretending I didn’t feel my pulse racing like prey under moonlight.

But Lucas didn’t let go.

Later that night, my phone buzzed.

(I’m done waiting.) —Lucas.

Drawn by instinct, I stepped onto the balcony. The black SUV hadn’t moved. And there he was—leaning against it, cigarette between his fingers like sin wrapped in silver smoke.

I’d never seen him smoke before.

The moonlight kissed his skin, making him look carved from marble and storm clouds. Every inch of him screamed control. Bloodline royalty. A man forged in war.

When our eyes met, he tilted his head, a soft smirk on his lips that didn’t reach the haunted look in his gaze. His smile wasn’t flirtation—it was a warning.

And still… I couldn’t look away.

He flicked the cigarette, climbed back into the SUV, and vanished into the shadows.

But something stayed behind. Some part of him buried itself under my skin.

Kael came home just before dawn.

The air in the room shifted. I felt him before I heard him—his storm-borne scent, the bitter tang of iron and rage.

“Sera.” His voice was sharp, disgust curling his lip. “Must you reek of smoke? Goddess, you smell like a rogue. Try acting like a Luna.”

I didn’t smoke.

But I didn’t correct him.

That scent? That rebellion? It wasn’t mine. It was his. Lucas’s.

Kael didn’t know it, but the scent on me was a warning—a mark, not of mating, but of resistance.

I ground the imaginary cigarette beneath my heel and turned toward the bathroom.

“I’m talking to you,” he said.

“I heard you,” I replied, my voice even.

Kael blinked. The mirror reflected his shock. For once, I hadn’t flinched.

His eyes narrowed, tracking the edge of the bandage under my collar. “What happened to your neck?”

He reached out, but I pulled away. Not fast—just enough to make a statement.

He curled his fingers into a fist, retreating with that seething air he wore like armor. “I gave you everything—status, wealth, safety. Why now?”

But I hadn’t done anything. Not really.

As he turned to go, I said it.

“If I’m standing in your way—with her or anyone else—then maybe we should get a divorce.”

The world tilted.

Kael froze.

When he turned, his face was carved from stone. “What did you just say?”

I met his eyes, steady. “You heard me.”

Then he laughed. Bitter. Cruel. “That’s your play now? Divorce? You think I’d let you go because you’re bored of being Luna?”

He stepped closer, his voice curling into poison. “Do you think someone like me could ever love you?”

His words were talons, and he dragged them across my ribs.

“You’ve lived in this house since you were ten. If you leave, where will you go? There’s no one left for you.”

Wrong.

There was someone. Watching from the shadows. Waiting.

Kael’s final blow came with venom. “If you’re not strong enough to leave, then shut up and stay in your place.”

And just like that, I saw it.

The man I once loved? Gone.

What remained was a creature made of pride, power, and possessiveness.

Days later came Grandfather Thorne’s birthday. Kael insisted I attend.

The car waiting for me in the drive looked expensive and soulless—like everything Kael chose. But it wasn’t the car that made my heart twist.

It was the woman sitting in the front seat.

Mira.

Flawless. Poised. Wrapped in Kael’s scent like a damn ribbon.

“Good evening, Mrs. Thorne,” she said sweetly.

I could smell the lie beneath her perfume. She wasn’t just riding up front.

She was already seated in the life Kael had begun building without me.