Andromeda

Chaos in the pack house was spiralling out of control. Margareth sharpened her sarcasm like a blade, slicing me apart with every comparison to Mata Hari.

And Alpha Rigel? He flaunted his betrayal at every corner, as if he wanted to shove me out of South Hallow piece by piece.

Earlier today, when I went to retrieve Athena’s photos from her room, I heard them—Rigel and Mata Hari—mating with those disgusting noises.

In my daughter’s room.

And I stood there, powerless, outside that door.

The only thing I could do was record it all on my phone—evidence I’d one day throw in Alpha Rigel’s face when I finally walked away.

The weight of betrayal pressing on my chest only eased when my gaze dropped to my stomach, my hand resting softly on the life inside me.

I returned to my room and buried myself in work—gathering evidence of Athena’s death.

My fingers danced across files: videos, voice recordings, chat logs. Every trace of Rigel’s movements over the past two weeks, every whisper of deceit.

I would use it all during Athena’s memorial ritual.

I was focused on downloading CCTV footage from Golden Glee Park when the door swung open without so much as a knock.

Mata Hari stepped in—her movements rehearsed, her body the stage.

Her eyes glinted with smug delight, like a cat dangling its prey.

“Nice room,” she purred, scanning every corner. “No wonder you’ve been hiding in here.”

I didn’t look up. “Leave. I don’t have time for you.”

Her smirk curved like a dagger. “Did you like the little photo I sent?”

My fingers stilled above the keyboard. But I forced them to move again.

Maybe annoyed that I wasn’t rising to the bait, she nudged the glass by my laptop. Water spilled, flooding the keys.

“Oops… clumsy me,” she murmured with fake regret.

“Get out,” I said flatly. “Or better yet—go spread your legs for Alpha Rigel all day long.”

She laughed, wicked and shameless. “Thanks for the advice. Already did. Didn’t even need a reminder.” Her grin was pure devilry.

“Then what more do you want? My blessing?” I tilted my head. “Seems like you’re still worried I might ruin your little fairytale, Mata Hari.”

Her fingers gripped my chin, nails digging in. “I gave you eight years, Andromeda. Eight years. Now it’s my turn to take what’s mine.”

I stared at her, my hand sliding to my phone, tapping the recorder. I needed her confession—her sins carved in her own voice.

“Take him. I don’t care,” I spat. “Save your energy for pleasing Rigel. After Athena, he’s nothing to me.”

Her lips curled. “Ah, that brat…” she whispered, leaning closer. “When I told Rigel to send that mad hunter to kill you—for me and Oasis—I felt alive again.”

My pulse thundered. “You… it was you?”

Her smile was venom. She gripped my chin, forcing my face up. “Of course. Rigel does whatever I want. You were just a pawn. Athena was collateral damage.”

The world narrowed. My breath came ragged. I shoved her hand away, rage burning through my bones.

“You—shameless witch!” I drove her back, step by step. “You think the world spins around your body? You think I’ll just stand here after you crushed my pup’s life?”

She smirked. “You won’t do a thing. You’re weak.”

My hand cracked against her cheek. The sound split the air. She froze—then her eyes gleamed with something darker.

“Oh… this will be fun,” she whispered.

Before I could move, she darted back, whipping a silver blade from her pocket.

Smoke hissed as it seared her palm. She slashed her own thigh, then tumbled down the stairs, screaming.

Voices erupted below. Footsteps thundered. Alpha Rigel burst in, Margareth at his side—Oasis trailing behind, wide-eyed.

“What did you do to her, you vile bitch?!” Margareth shrieked, cradling Mata Hari as she feigned unconsciousness.

I stood frozen at the top of the stairs, my chest heaving. “She—”

“Shut up!” Alpha Rigel’s voice cut like steel. “I’ve had enough, Luna Andromeda.”

Margareth glared at me with pure loathing. “First you kill your own child, now you try to kill my grandson’s mother? You have no shame!”

“She’s lying! She threw herself—” My voice broke. No one cared.

Oasis clung to Margareth, sobbing, his eyes staring at me like I was a monster.

Alpha Rigel stormed up the stairs, his hand crushing my shoulder before I could step back. “You’ll never touch Mata Hari again.”

His shove sent me tumbling. My back slammed the steps, pain igniting like fire, my skull pounding as the world spun out of focus.

Through the blur, I saw him scooping Mata Hari into his arms, carrying her out—leaving me sprawled at the foot of the stairs like trash.

**

When I woke, antiseptic burned my nostrils. The harsh glow of pack hospital lights stabbed my eyes.

An IV pierced my arm, morphine flowing warm into my veins—laced with wolfbane, heavy and cruel.

I tried to lift my hand, but strength deserted me.

“What did you do to her, Luna Andromeda?”

AlphaRigel’s voice—cold, merciless—dragged my gaze to him. He didn’t even care enough to ask if I was okay.

“What I did?” My throat was raw. “You should be asking what she did to me—to our daughter!”

Alpha Rigel loomed closer, his jaw clenched tight. “You’re always like this. Blaming everyone else when it was you who failed Athena.”

The words shattered me like glass.

He still painted me as the mother who killed her child.

“I carried her. I birthed her. I—” My voice cracked. “And you dare make it look like I murdered her?”

“I lost her too!” Alpha Rigel roared. “But I’m not wasting my life whining and pointing fingers.”

“You didn’t lose her, Alpha. You were too busy fucking Mata Hari—building your perfect little family!” My throat burned as tears carved hot paths down my cheeks.

Alpha Rigel moved in with slow, predatory steps, until his breath was fire against my skin. His fingers gripped my jaw, forcing me to meet those storm-grey eyes I once thought were my sanctuary.

“Watch your mouth, Luna Andromeda!” he murmured, voice like a blade wrapped in silk. “You’ve got no proof. And you should be grateful Mata Hari survived. Tomorrow—she becomes my lady.”

“Your lady?” My chest heaved, fury pulsing in every word. “Take her, then. Take all your lies, all your betrayal. I’m done.”

“You’re going nowhere, Andie. Not while I’m still your Alpha.” He leaned closer, his thumb brushing the tears from my cheek—mocking tenderness in a grip that could break bone. “You’ll see what a real Luna looks like… and a true heir for South Hallow. That prophecy? I’ve erased it.”

“Just reject me, Alpha!” My voice ripped from my throat, raw and shaking.

His gaze darkened, possessive and venomous. Then came the whisper, low and lethal, the kind that binds chains around your soul:

“Never.” His lips hovered at my ear, each word dripping with obsession. “I still love you, Andie… but not the way I love Mata Hari.”

My heart slammed against my ribs, my wolf trapped in a burning cage.

He called this love. For Moon Goddess’s sake—this twisted, diseased, bleeding.

He barked for the doctor, ordering a heavier dose of morphine and wolfbane.

My body turned to lead as darkness dragged me under.

**

When I woke again, a voice—low, unfamiliar—slipped through the silence.

“Finally awake, Andromeda.”

A he-wolf sat in the shadows by my bed, his face cloaked in dim light.

“Who… are you?” My voice was a rasp.

He leaned forward, eyes glinting like steel. “A loyal man of Winchester. Alpha Altair sent me to get you out of Alpha Rigel’s grip.”

He unclipped the IV from my arm, smooth and precise.

From his jacket, a golden badge caught the faint light—the Winchester Claw.

“Alpha Altair says you’ve got five days to leave South Hallow. Tomorrow night, when the full moon peaks—I’ll come for you.”

Andromeda

“My pup?” Instinctively, my hand went to my still-flat stomach.

A cold spike of fear stabbed through my chest, stirring memories I’d buried deep—the pain of loss.

I couldn’t bear the thought of laying my pup to rest again.

The figure before me turned slowly, his shadow stretching long across the floor.

“He’s fine,” he said flatly, though something in his voice hinted at secrets I wasn’t ready to hear.

His eyes glinted in the dim light, unreadable.

“Alpha Altair sent me,” he continued, his tone low, almost reverent, “to make sure that pup survives—to protect Winchester… and you.”

My breath caught. “He knows?”

The man’s lips curved—not quite a smile.

“Yes,” he murmured, each syllable deliberate, heavy with unspoken meaning. “He always knows.”

I didn’t quite believe him, but I trusted Altair somehow—they anchored me just enough to keep from shattering.

Even in the wreckage, it seemed there was still something worth fighting for.

I pushed myself upright, my limbs heavy from the wolfsbane still dragging through my veins.

But the Moon Goddess had granted me resilience—for me, and for the life I carried.

On the bedside table sat a neatly wrapped box, still sealed. A note rested on top:

Your phone’s broken. Use this so I can reach you. All the data you need has been transferred.–AG

By the next morning, I was out of the hospital.

In the corridor, I overheard omegas whispering that Alpha Rigel was busy preparing the ritual to mourn Athena.

I doubted it was purely grief—more likely, a performance. A way to convince the pack, and himself, that he’d truly lost his heir.

Back at the pack house, I began packing my things, and Athena’s.

Among Athena’s things, I found a small scrap of paper, scrawled in her big, uneven handwriting:

On my fifth birthday, I want Mum and Dad to take me to the funfair.

Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Such a simple wish—yet not a single grown werewolf around her had been able to make it come true.

That was the last time I would allow myself to cry.

From this moment on, only vengeance would burn in my heart.

I sent one of my most trusted omegas to keep the note safe, along with the moonstone ring Alpha Rigel gave me on the night of our Mating Ceremony.

Both will be returned to him during the final ritual—the day we honour Athena’s death.

I packed away the rest of Alpha Rigel’s gifts in a box—the letters, the perfumes, the trinkets that once whispered promises. My intention was clear: burn every last one.

In the back garden, flames danced hungrily in the metal drum, devouring gemstones, dresses, handbags, shoes—every fragment of a love that had rotted long ago.

The blood-sealed parchment from our Luna bond ceremony went in last, curling to ash under my gaze.

The heat was nothing compared to the fire simmering inside me.

Footsteps crunched the gravel behind me. “What are you doing?” Alpha Rigel’s voice was sharp, coiled like a whip.

I didn’t turn. “These are old. Taking up space.”

He stepped to my side, eyes on the blaze as if trying to read it. “You could have told me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” I said, voice cool. “You’ve got Alpha duties to attend to.”

Like keeping Mata Hari warm at night.

His sigh was low, practiced—designed to sound tender. “Luna Andromeda… about yesterday, I lost my temper. I’m sorry.”

A hand settled on my shoulder, light as a spider’s web, and just as empty. “Let me make it up to you,” he murmured. “I want to give you the Carlson villa—”

“Give it to Mata Hari.” My tone sliced through his words, cold and clean. “She’ll like it more.”

He paused, brows knitting, as if the rejection was a puzzle.

The villa—perched high in the mountains—was the kind of gift most she-wolves would kill for.

Not me. I hated the thin, biting air, the suffocating pine. I’d always craved the sea—a quiet cottage where the tide sang me to sleep.

He studied me for a long beat, eyes searching for cracks. “And… I want you to swap rooms with Mata Hari. She needs the space—”

“Fine,” I cut in, flat as stone.

No fight. No spark. Just silence. My heart had sunk to the bottom of a black lake—cold, heavy, immovable.

“There’s something else,” he ventured, careful now. “I’m naming Oasis as my successor. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” I said smoothly. “You’re the Alpha. I can’t give you an heir, after all.”

His head snapped toward me, fury flickering in his eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” His voice sharpened, the mask cracking. “You’re… different.”

I gave him a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m just making peace with reality.”

His jaw worked as silence stretched between us. Then he stepped closer, voice dropping into that poisoned velvet tone he wore like a crown.

“I promise, Andie, you’ll always be first in my heart. Even if Mata Hari stands beside me.” His thumb brushed my cheek as if sealing a vow. “She may carry Carlson Hallow’s heir—but you… you’re the one I’ll always come back to.”

A sweet venom of a promise. First, but never only.

“I’ve always loved you, Andie. You know that.”

I didn’t flinch when his hand cupped my face. Love? It was obsession wrapped in the velvet of false tenderness.

When he leaned in, I turned away, voice cutting like ice. “I want to visit Athena’s grave.”

He stilled, searching my profile for something—pain, surrender, anything he could use. Finally, he nodded.

“Alright,” he said softly. But his tone held an edge, like a leash drawn tighter.

When he left, I pulled the new phone from my pocket and texted Altair, confirming the form I’d sent via email.

His reply came fast: Got it. Everything’s in order.

I made one call, and he picked up.

“Hello…”

“Are you ready?” Altair’s voice was deep, almost hypnotic.

“Yeah. Three hours. I need to finalise an investment withdrawal and… dismantle Nebula’s firewall.”

Minutes later, an email arrived—my one-way e-ticket. Destination: Athens, Greece.

I stared at the screen, the confirmation like a key in my hand… or a blade ready to sever my last tie to this place.

Outside, the fire in the drum had died, leaving only ash and the warped metal shell of one of Athena’s toys.

I turned away without looking back.

I rolled my suitcase out of the pack house, the air around me feeling lighter with every step.

Through the taxi window, the pack house blurred into the distance.

At the airport, my inbox chimed with confirmation of the investment withdrawal.

With a single tap, my virus began quietly tearing through Nebula’s firewall.

The sound of the telly blurred out the bitterness clawing at my memories.

The newsreader’s voice broke through, reporting a massive pile-up at the Oxford Circus junction in central London.

Cars were all crushed together, twisted up and swallowed by the flames. A bus was sprawled across the road, having flattened a taxi almost flush with the tarmac.

A list of the dead rolled out almost instantly.

The name Andromeda Carlson came last on the list of victims—dead at the scene, her face unrecognisable.

Altair had pulled it off flawlessly, and I couldn’t help the smile that curved my lips.

I, Andromeda Nielsen, sever my bond with the South Hallow Pack. I am no longer their Luna.