Even after three years bound by the Moon, Alpha Moises Blackwood and I still didn’t share a bed most nights.

He always had a ready excuse—something about hating the feeling of another body beside him while he slept.

But I wasn’t stupid.

It wasn’t people he couldn’t stand.

It was me.

I was a Luna only in title—never marked, never claimed, never welcomed under his covers. His wolf never brushed against mine. His scent never wrapped around me the way true mates instinctively did. I was an obligation he never meant to honor, a placeholder wearing a bond he treated like an inconvenience.

Yet with Veronica?

He was soft with her. Patient. Tender in a way he had never once been with me.

He probably had a whole explanation rehearsed for why she needed my room—something noble, something polite—but the moment I said “okay” without arguing, something shifted in his expression, like he didn’t expect compliance.

“No problem,” I said, keeping my tone airy. “Most of my things are still in there anyway. I’ll clear them out.”

What did it matter? Whether I moved out today or next week, the result was the same.

I wasn’t staying.

And I think he knew it too. Because when I mentioned I was taking everything with me, something—an instinct, maybe—flickered in his eyes. Like a protest almost rose to his lips.

But Veronica, ever eager to be center stage, chimed in with her honeyed voice before he could speak.

“Thanks, sis. You’re such a lifesaver… Luna Lyriana.”

I didn’t respond.

Didn’t trust my voice not to crack.

Instead, I bent down, wrapped my arms around the heaviest box, and turned toward the stairs. The weight strained my muscles and my fingers trembled from trying to hold it steady.

A shard of glass—hidden beneath the edge of a carpet—slid under my foot.

My balance vanished.

I crashed down hard.

My knee hit the floor first, skin splitting on impact. Razor-thin pieces of glass dug into my leg and palm, slicing deep enough to pull a gasp from my lungs. Pain jolted through me, bright and hot. My wolf whimpered quietly under my skin, distressed but exhausted.

Still, I made no sound.

Moises didn’t even glance my way.

Veronica hooked her arm around his, leading him toward the stairs like she was guiding her Alpha.

Maybe she was.

So I stayed there on the floor—on my knees, wounded, surrounded by broken glass and the weight of everything I’d been swallowing for years—while tears slipped silently onto the tiles.

There was a time when I thought those tears mattered.

When I thought someone—him—would notice.

But not anymore.

In the Blackthorn Packhouse, Moises never let Veronica lift anything heavier than a teacup.

“Our Veronica’s a little princess,” he’d always say with affection. “She deserves delicate treatment.”

And me?

Before they discovered I wasn’t the maid’s daughter, I scrubbed floors until my fingers cracked open. I hauled laundry, polished corridors, carried crates heavier than my own body.

I learned early:

No one was coming to help me.

If something hurt, I kept moving anyway.

Becoming the true-born Blackthorn daughter changed nothing.

Becoming Moises’s wife changed nothing.

Becoming the Blackwood Pack’s Luna changed nothing at all.

It took me the rest of the day to pack. Slowly. Methodically.

Box after box.

Memory after memory.

Pain tucked away in cardboard and tape.

By sunset, everything was loaded onto a truck.

“You didn’t need to get rid of so much,” Moises muttered as he walked past me. He sounded mildly annoyed, like my cleaning inconvenienced him. “Veronica’s only staying temporarily. Once she leaves, you’ll move back in. What was the point of dumping everything?”

To him, I probably seemed strange—too quiet, too calm.

“They’re things from the past,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I figured it was time to clear them out.”

He watched me, brows knitting slightly, like he was trying to decipher something on my face.

“You’re not wasteful,” he said slowly.

No.

I wasn’t.

I grew up with scraps, leftovers, hand-me-downs. I knew the value of everything I touched. None of the items I threw away were meaningless.

But I smiled faintly and replied, “Sometimes you need space for something new. You can’t hold onto what’s old forever.”

Like people, I thought.

Like bonds.

Like a marriage built on pretense.

He didn’t push further. If he did, it would only call attention to how little he noticed.

“There’s an auction tonight,” he said, changing the subject abruptly. “The organizers asked me to attend. You’ll join me. And Veronica too.”

I opened my mouth—ready to refuse—but he cut me off sharply.

“You’re my Luna, yes, but you’re also my assistant. I can’t show up without my secretary.”

A bitter laugh nearly escaped me.

So that was all I was tonight.

The assistant.

A functional role.

A title on paper.

A placeholder.

My throat tightened with unsaid truths—And what is she? Your mistress? Your Luna-to-be? What am I in this farce?—but I swallowed them down.

I nodded once.

One last performance.

One final duty before I walked away for good.

Night draped over the sky like velvet as we entered the auction hall. Crystal lights shimmered overhead, illuminating wolves draped in silk and tailored suits. Power hummed in the air like electricity. Wealth glittered from every surface. Secrets clung to the walls like perfume.

Moises walked ahead with perfect posture, letting Veronica thread her arm through his like she belonged there.

Calista, tonight’s host, greeted him with a radiant smile.

“Alpha Moises Blackwood! Your seat is ready. This way, please.”

She motioned toward a table set for two.

“I heard you’re married?” Calista said cheerfully. “The second seat is for your wife.”

There it was.

The moment I’d always known would come.

Silence stretched—sharp, suffocating.

Moises’s marriage had been kept quiet, hidden from society, tucked into the shadows the same way he’d tucked me away.

Two women. One seat meant for a wife.

And he didn’t even pause.

“I’m not married,” he said coolly. “Not sure who started that rumor.”

My heart didn’t shatter—it had broken so many times it no longer knew how.

But something inside me tightened—a cold, slow burn that spread through my ribs. Not shock. Not heartbreak.

Just clarity.

Calista’s brows lifted. “Then who are they?”

Moises took Veronica’s hand without hesitation.

“This is Veronica Blackthorn, daughter of Alpha Magnus of the Blackthorn Pack.”

Recognition flickered in Calista’s eyes.

Then Moises glanced at me like my presence annoyed him.

“And she,” he said blandly, “is my secretary.”

Not a flicker of emotion crossed my face.

I’d braced myself for this—for public erasure, for the brutality of being verbally unmade.

But preparation didn’t make the pain any duller.

I stayed standing behind them, straight-backed, chin lifted, every ounce of dignity stitched into the bones of my posture.

A Luna only in title.

A mate only on paper.

A ghost wearing flesh.

They took their seats.

I remained behind them—like staff.

A sudden stab of pain pierced my lower abdomen, sharp enough to make my hand tremble as it pressed against my stomach. I forced my breathing steady, each inhale weighted with betrayal.

I turned away from them, each step heavy, like wading through cold water. The room blurred at the edges as I walked toward the restroom—not gracefully, not with strength, but with the quiet, desperate retreat of a wolf backing away from a battle she knew she could no longer win.

For now.

I hadn’t shifted in days, nor had my cycle returned—so why did this pain hit me like a blade twisting inside? It wasn’t just a cramp, not merely physical agony. Something primal was clawing at me from within—my wolf, desperate and frightened, thrashing in silent rage.

I gripped the edge of the bathroom sink, knuckles blanching as I fought to breathe through the searing coil that wrapped around my stomach.

No blood.

No heat.

No bond snapping.

And yet… I could feel it. Something was wrong. Terribly, unmistakably wrong.

I pushed myself from the sink, swaying, searching for the relief of open air, maybe even a way to flee. My hand shot to the doorknob—and it wouldn’t budge.

Click.

It was locked. From the outside.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice raw and sharp, panic beginning to prick at the edges of my mind. “Someone… anyone?”

Then her voice—sweet, venomous, the last sound I wanted to hear.

Veronica.

“Bitch,” she hissed from the other side, every syllable laced with smug triumph. “How’s that cast-off, hand-me-down life treating you?”

My chest tightened.

“Alpha Moises has always loved me,” she continued, venom dripping from her words. “From the start. And now that I’m back? You’re in my way. Really? You have the nerve to show up here tonight, trying to steal the limelight from me?”

Pain radiated through my belly, folding me over as if the world itself had slammed into me. Cold sweat slicked my temples, my wolf groaning in alarm beneath my skin. Something was very, very wrong. This was no petty jealousy—it carried the taste of something unnatural, something invasive. Poison? A curse?

Through gritted teeth, I pressed myself against the door. “Veronica… take him, then,” I rasped. “I don’t want him anymore.”

A beat of silence.

Then her laughter—sharp, cruel, merciless—shattered the air.

“Funny,” she said, a cruel smile in her voice. “Do you really think I’d believe that? You stole my mother, my Alpha father, and now you think you can take my mate too? Who do you think you are?”

Mate.

That word sliced through me sharper than any blade could. Because Alpha Moises… Moises Blackwood had been mine. Or so I had thought.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” she snapped. “No one’s coming for you.”

I heard the scrape of metal, the shift of something heavy being dragged across the floor. A sharp click followed, and then: Restricted Area. Do Not Enter.

Of course. This section of the auction hall was forbidden, reserved for rare, magical objects. Phones surrendered, cameras diCalistad. No one would think to look here—not Moises, not anyone. Especially not with Veronica glued to him, radiating a sense of ownership.

I slid down to the cold floor, trembling. The stabbing pain in my belly had dulled to a slow, dragging ache, but my heart… my heart was a gaping wound, wide open and raw.

I pounded weakly on the door. “Help… someone… please…”

My voice cracked, ragged and strained. I screamed again, fierce and wild, but all that answered me was silence. The sign outside was a ward in itself; anyone seeing it would assume I had nothing to do with them.

Time blurred. Minutes or hours—I had no measure. I cried until my eyes were empty, screamed until my throat burned, until I had nothing left to give. Eventually, darkness seeped in and claimed me, wrapping me in cold, suffocating quiet.

---

The Next Morning

The first thing I heard was the clatter of keys and the soft creak of a door swinging open.

“Oh, the moon above—Miss? Are you awake?” a woman gasped.

My eyes flickered open, the room swimming in a gray haze. Cold clung to me like a second skin. My dress stuck to my body, soaked and heavy. My limbs refused to obey, stiff and unresponsive.

Then I saw her—the cleaner.

I tried to speak, but my throat burned raw. With trembling hands, I pressed myself up, palms against the icy floor.

“No…” I whispered, barely audible. “It’s… okay. I’ll manage.”

A lie.

Everything inside me was broken. My wolf curled tight within, silent, untouched since the pain began.

The cleaner helped me to my feet, worry furrowing her brow. I gave her a weak smile, leaning on the wall for support, step by shaky step, forcing myself forward.

As I had feared, Alpha Moises hadn’t come.

Not once.

A stone of realization settled in my chest. I remembered when Veronica had gone missing for mere minutes at a pack ball; Moises nearly shifted then, storming the entire building searching for her.

But me? A whole night of torment, and not a single thought. Not a word. Not a call.

Indifference was a blade. And last night, it had cut me deep.

I retrieved my phone from the entryway. I didn’t bother checking for his name—I already knew. Nothing. No missed calls, no texts, no message of concern from the mate who had sworn to protect me.

Except one.

Corvin Draven.

The only man who still saw me—not as the shell I’d become, but as the woman I had been before betrayal hollowed me out.

“Lyriana, I can’t wait a whole month. One week. I’m coming for you in a week.”

Tears blurred my vision, but they weren’t tears of sorrow. They were sharp, burning with resolve.

Last night’s agony wasn’t just heartbreak or betrayal. Something more feral stirred inside me—ancient, wild, untamed. My wolf, dormant for too long, began to awaken, stretching and sharpening beneath my ribs, feeding on the rage and injustice.

Whatever Veronica had attempted—whatever cruel schemes she had set in motion—she had misjudged me.

It didn’t break me.

It awakened me.

I felt the bloodline rise in my veins—the legacy of moonlight and fire, of survival and vengeance, of war etched into my very bones.

They had tried to erase me. Starve me. Strip me of my name, my pride, my power.

They had locked me away like I was nothing.

But I am not nothing.

I am Lyriana Blackthorn.

And they are about to learn the price of a wolf who has been wounded—and refuses to vanish.

She evolves.

She rises.

And when she strikes… she never misses.

The instant Corvin Draven’s message lit up my phone, a faint warmth flickered beneath the icy numbness that had settled over my chest. After days of nothing but the hollow rhythm of survival, just seeing his name stirred something close to comfort.

[Okay.]

Simple. Final. Safe.

I stared at the screen as though it could soothe the ache gnawing at me. A month is too long, I thought. Seven days will be enough.

Seven days trapped under this roof. Seven more days to grieve what Alpha Moises had already burned to ash. After that, I would leave. No farewells. No whispered goodbyes beneath the moonlight. I would sever myself entirely from this territory, from the pain, from the Alpha I had once believed was mine by fate.

The moment I stepped into the pack house, her scent hit me first.

Veronica.

It clung to the air like a poison, a nauseating mix of lilac and artificial lust. It coated every corner of the home that had once been mine. Following it to the main hall, I froze. There she was—lounging on the velvet couch, exuding triumph, wearing my nightgown. The white silk, threaded with silver, the same one Moises had ripped from me during our mating moon. Seeing her in it was a jolt—a blow to the gut. My wolf stirred, restless, yet silent.

The door clicked behind me, and she lifted her head, a cruel smirk painting her lips.

“Back so soon?” she drawled, mockery dripping from every word. “You look… pathetic.”

She rose, bare feet gliding across the marble. When she reached me, she tilted my chin with a touch that was both brazen and insolent.

“Tsk,” she murmured, inspecting me like I was a cracked mirror. “Pale, weak… if I didn’t know better, I’d say your wolf’s giving up on you too.”

Her silk slipped further, revealing the marks of our mating on her chest. She leaned in, her voice soft but sharp. “See these? All from Alpha Moises. Last night… unforgettable.”

I clenched my jaw, but my feet stayed planted. My silence only fed her audacity.

“He told me,” she continued, venom lacing each word, “that I make him feel alive. That you lie there… cold, dead. Your wolf hasn’t stirred in months—probably tired of you already.”

I didn’t remember raising my hand. One second, her breath was on my cheek. The next, my palm met her face with a sharp smack. The sound echoed in the hall. Her head jerked back, her shock almost palpable.

“Remember your place,” I said, low and fierce, not with fear but with fire. “I am still Luna. You are merely the servant’s daughter, climbing into a bed that was never yours.”

She bared her fangs, snarling, but a flicker of hesitation crossed her features.

As expected, almost at that moment, Alpha Moises arrived.

I felt him before I saw him. His presence rolled over the room like a storm, the weight of his aura pressing down. Almost immediately, Veronica sank to her knees, the submissive posture of prey before a predator.

“L-Luna Lyriana, please!” she sobbed, trembling. “I shouldn’t have come back! I’ll leave—anything to stay out of your way!”

Moises moved with swift authority. She bolted for the marble column, but he caught her, cradling her like she was fragile glass.

“Lex…” His voice softened, gentle and commanding at once. “I invited you. Anyone with a problem can deal with me.”

Something inside me cracked—slow, splintering, final.

I didn’t shed a tear.

Not even when he turned toward me, unfamiliar and cold. “Lyriana Blackthorn,” he barked. “Apologize to her.”

I met his gaze, flat and unyielding. “I did nothing wrong. Are you not even curious where I was last night?”

He frowned. “Did you—”

“Do you want to know who I spent it with? What I endured?” I cut him off.

“I don’t care,” he snapped. “You will not hurt Veronica. Apologize, or you’re suspended from the Council. From everything.”

He assumed I would crumble. He never knew I carried the burden so he didn’t have to. I had taken on his failures, hoping one day he would choose me again.

Moises turned, Veronica in his arms. Just before they vanished upstairs, he instructed the maid, “Don’t let her eat until she apologizes.”

And just like that, the mate I had loved for three years walked away from me.

I remained frozen, staring into the space he had vacated. Slowly, my body caught up to the truth my heart had already acknowledged.

I didn’t love him anymore.

Not after this.

---

Days slipped by in muted agony.

I remained confined within the pack house, treated as an outcast. Three times a day, the maid asked if I had realized my mistake. Three times, I remained silent. I counted the days: five. Four. Three.

Messages from Veronica buzzed relentlessly on my phone.

In the morning, another one arrived:

[Bitch, you couldn’t win our mother, and you can’t win a man. One word from me, and Moises won’t return for a month.]

She was right. My mate never came back.

Veronica, of course, sent daily videos—kissing him on the beach, cooking together in the kitchen, writhing beneath him under the silver moonlight. Once, I would have curled up, sobbing, letting my wolf howl into the night.

Now? I felt nothing.

Moises had never truly belonged to me. He had borrowed my love until it was inconvenient, then discarded it.

By the fourth day, I had survived on little more than water. My limbs trembled, my vision blurred, but I refused to beg. I refused to apologize for crimes I hadn’t committed.

That evening, I sought air in the garden, though it was heavy with lies.

Then it happened.

A golden retriever lunged out of nowhere, colliding with my side. I collapsed onto the stone path, brittle, hollow, barely able to remain upright.

A sharp pain exploded in my abdomen.

Warmth trickled down. I looked down in horror, but my body betrayed me—I could do nothing but watch the blood stain my clothes. My knees gave way. The metallic scent filled the air. I was paralyzed.

No…

I realized instantly. Two months prior, Alpha Moises and I had shared one final hollow night. His mother and elder Alpha Garrick had wanted an heir. We had taken no precautions. I had hoped…

Now, that hope was dying.

“Help…” I whispered.

Only the driver moved. He scooped me into the car, flooring it toward the hospital. I clutched my abdomen, each breath shallow and ragged.

Then the car ground to a halt.

“Why—?” I began.

“Luna Lyriana,” he stammered, “it’s Lady Veronica Moonceil’s birthday. Alpha Moises closed the roads for her celebration. We… we can’t get through.”

I turned toward the window. Fireworks painted the sky in brilliant colors, laughter echoed, the territory alive with festivity.

And I? Bleeding in the back of a car. Forgotten. Cast aside. Alone.

That was the love of Alpha Moises Blackwood—loud, public, extravagant—but meant for someone else.

Each explosion of light was a dagger to my chest, a stark reminder that while he illuminated the heavens for her, I was left to bleed quietly.

With the last strength I could summon, I touched the ring on my finger—the symbol of three years of devotion, sacrifice, and believing in a bond that never truly existed.

My hands shook as I slid it free.

I rolled down the window, letting the cold night air bite at my skin, and without hesitation, I let the ring slip into the darkness.

Let the wolves howl.

I was done.

No more mourning. No more waiting.

The love I carried for him died in that instant—along with everything else he had taken from me.