Violet’s delighted orders were met with unwavering compliance from Ronan. Not once did he object as she dictated my every move, her tone oozing mockery. My mind wandered to the countless times I had timidly asked Ronan if I could move into the Alpha’s quarters, hoping to solidify our bond. He had always refused, claiming it was “necessary for the Alpha to maintain his space and discipline.”

Instead, he would summon me when it suited him. If I dared to leave anything personal behind in his quarters, he would scold me, reminding me that boundaries were crucial. At the time, I thought it was just Ronan’s stoic nature as an Alpha—firm, disciplined, and reserved. Now, I understood the cruel truth: in his heart, I was never meant to be his Luna.

As Violet sauntered off to explore, Ronan sat down, his wolf-like eyes watching me intently. He held up his phone, flashing a message he had sent just moments earlier:

[Ayla, my union with Violet is purely political. You know you’re the one who has my heart. Don’t overthink this.]

I couldn’t suppress a bitter laugh. Ronan still thought I was a naïve omega, desperate enough to believe his lies. If he wanted to convince me that his union was fake, I decided I would play along. After all, a facade would crumble eventually. I had my own plans now.

I turned to leave and finish packing, but Violet had already made her way to the guest room. She smiled sweetly, the kind of smile that could flay you alive while keeping her hands clean.

“Miss Ayla,” she said, feigning concern. “It’s going to be so awkward for you to stay here now that Ronan and I are preparing for our ceremony. You should hurry up and find somewhere else to stay.” Her voice dripped with venom hidden beneath syrupy politeness.

Her eyes scanned the half-packed bags on my bed. She gasped in mock surprise. “Oh! You’ve already started? My, my, your taste in clothes is so similar to mine! It’s almost like Ronan picked them out himself. Isn’t that funny? I suppose we’re destined to be close.”

The realization struck like a blow to my chest. Every piece of jewelry, every article of clothing Ronan had ever given me… they had all been her style. Not mine. All along, I’d been a mirror for someone else’s reflection. A placeholder. An echo of the true Luna he’d always dreamed of. My hands trembled, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break.

I turned to leave, but Ronan appeared in the doorway, his gaze darkening when he saw my packed bags. “What are you doing?” he demanded, his tone tinged with urgency. “Why are you packing your things? Answer me!”

I kept my face impassive, refusing to meet his eyes. Before I could respond, Violet’s fingers brushed against the music box on my nightstand. My heart stopped.

“Don’t touch that!” I snapped, but it was too late.

The music box slipped from her hands, shattering on the hardwood floor. Its delicate lid splintered, the tiny figurines lying in pieces among the shards. I dropped to my knees, trying to salvage it, but Violet’s sharp cry cut through the air. “Ronan, my hand! I didn’t mean to—it just slipped!”

Ronan rushed to her side, inspecting the faint scratches on her palm as if she’d been mortally wounded. His expression turned cold as he looked at me. “Ayla, it’s just a broken trinket. There’s no need to overreact.”

Before I could protest, he lifted his boot and crushed the remnants of the music box beneath his heel, grinding the pieces into dust. “Throw this junk out,” he ordered, his voice laced with disgust. “I don’t want to see it in my house again.”

He scooped Violet into his arms and left without a backward glance.

I stayed on the floor, staring at the shattered remnants of the only gift that had ever felt real. The music box wasn’t just a trinket—it was the one thing that connected me to the Ronan I had once known. The boy who had shielded me during a storm, who had gone out of his way to make me smile when I thought the world was crumbling.

When I was sixteen, my parents’ divorce had left me adrift. Desperate for comfort, I had gone to my best friend Lizzie’s house. Instead of finding her, I ran into her older brother, Ronan, sweaty from a game of basketball. He had frowned when he saw my tear-streaked face and sent his friends away, dragging me inside despite my protests.

That night, he braved the storm to buy me cakes and sweets, piling them on the table with a grin. When I still wouldn’t smile, he pulled out a music box he had won at a festival. “Here,” he said, placing it in my hands. “Don’t cry anymore, okay? You’re stronger than this.”

The boy who gave me that music box was gone. In his place was an Alpha who saw me as nothing more than a shadow of another woman. I clenched my fists, ignoring the sting of the broken shards. My wolf stirred within me, howling in pain and anger.

If Ronan couldn’t see my worth, then it was time for me to find someone who could. And under the next blood moon, I would prove to him—and to myself—that I was more than a stand-in.

“No matter how others treat you in the future, I, your unofficial brother, will always protect you. Let this talisman be the proof.”

The young Ronan’s words rang in my ears, echoing in my memory like a haunting melody. Back then, he had handed me the small wolf-shaped talisman, its etched runes a symbol of protection. A boy’s attempt to offer comfort had completely won over my broken heart. From that moment, Ronan became my anchor, my moon in the dark night.

For ten long years, I had loved him. I held onto every promise he made, weaving them into the fabric of my being. But now, the boy who had sworn to protect me was gone, replaced by a calculating Alpha who no longer remembered his words—or me.

Clutching the shattered remains of my music box talisman, I whispered a silent farewell before tossing the pieces into the trash. If Ronan had abandoned those promises, I would abandon him—and the love I had clung to for so long.

The next morning, the packhouse was quiet. Ronan hadn’t returned.

I shipped my belongings back to my childhood home and headed to the pack’s administrative office to finalize my resignation. As Beta Soren handed me the papers, a message from Ronan lit up my phone screen:

[Ayla, I went too far yesterday. I stayed at the office to work late and ended up falling asleep here. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.]

I glanced at the empty Alpha’s office. He wasn’t here. His lies couldn’t even muster the energy to be convincing anymore. Without replying, I left the resignation letter on his desk.

Exiting the chat, I removed him from my pinned conversations, a small act of severance that felt like cutting a final thread. As I was about to turn off my phone, a notification popped up: Violet Frost sent you a friend request.

My finger hovered for a moment before I accepted. Immediately, her message arrived:

[Ronan, don’t forget to grab more moonflower potions when you’re out! Last night was… intense, and we’re all out. You’re insatiable, you wild wolf! 🥰]

Two minutes later, the message was deleted, followed by another:

[Oh no! I sent that to the wrong person. Miss Ayla, you didn’t see anything, did you? ]

I stared at her words, my wolf stirring uneasily within me. Violet’s fake innocence grated against my fraying composure. But instead of replying, my fingers tapped into her social media feed, curiosity overriding better judgment.

Photo after photo unfolded before me, each one like a claw to my chest. Violet had been back in the Shadowclaw territory for an entire month, during which Ronan had spared no effort to indulge her. Seraphis Valley. Mount Kaelen. Celestria Spire. Every destination I had once begged Ronan to visit with me, he had gone to with her instead.

My thoughts raced as I pieced together the timeline. It was during those trips that Ronan claimed he was overwhelmed with Alpha duties, insisting I handle tedious administrative work on his behalf. At the time, I thought it was his way of sharing responsibility with me, a sign that he trusted me as his future Luna. Now, I saw it for what it truly was—an excuse to spend time with Violet.

Each post cut deeper than the last. The photos of them smiling together, her hand resting possessively on his chest, shattered the illusion I had clung to for years. Every time I had tried to take a photo of us together, Ronan refused, brushing me off with excuses:

“If Lizzie finds out I’m dating her best friend, she’ll rip me apart.”

“Pack gossip is brutal, Ayla. I’m just protecting you.”

But the truth was clear now—Ronan had never wanted to protect me. He had wanted to hide me.

Just as I was about to close the app, a new post from Violet appeared at the top of her feed. My heart froze.

It was a live photo. The setting was unmistakably Ronan’s quarters, the massive wolf-engraved bed in the background. Violet lounged on the bed in a silk camisole, her slender fingers trailing over a man’s muscular torso. When I clicked on the photo, it played, and I heard it—his voice.

“Ayla,” he had whispered countless times to me before, his tone always low and seductive.

But as the photo played, I realized something horrifying: the name he murmured wasn’t mine. It was hers.

Violet.

The truth was inescapable. The man I had loved, the Alpha I had devoted my life to, had never truly seen me. I was nothing more than a shadow of the woman he truly desired. My wolf growled low in my chest, the sound vibrating with anger and betrayal.

For ten years, I had allowed myself to be blinded by love. But now, under the cold light of day, I saw everything clearly. It was time to leave the Shadowclaw Pack for good—and never look back.

The next blood moon was rising, and this time, I would carve out a future on my own terms.