Wearing My Sister's Crown

Brianna's POV

"Brianna, are you really sure about divorcing Alpha Marcus?"

Elder Saska's voice crackled over the phone, thick with unease.

"Lucas is still a youngling. He needs you."

I stood alone in the crumbling old kitchen, the heavy scent of witch fire clinging to the air as the kettle screamed on the stove. One hand pressed against the cold marble counter, grounding me.

"I mated Marcus because of the Oath Pact," I said quietly.

"Because you asked me to."

My eyes stung. I blinked the feeling away.

"Lucas is five now. He can grow without me. I’ve fulfilled my duty."

And I had. Hadn’t I?

Five years ago, Elder Saska had pulled me from the ruins of my childhood, after the rogue massacre destroyed my home. She raised me like one of her own when no one else would. When my sister died, it was Elder Saska who brokered the Oath Pact that bound me to Marcus — five years of service as Luna, five years of motherhood to a broken boy who would never see me as family, five years of swallowing my voice until I forgot what it sounded like.

But tomorrow... the Oath expired.

I could leave.

And this time, no one could stop me.

Before she could answer, a sharp crack echoed through the kitchen.

I barely flinched before a stone, still humming with residual lunar energy, slammed against the window and bounced off, striking me square on the forehead.

Pain bloomed bright and hot.

I stumbled back, clutching my brow, warm blood trickling down my temple. My heart hammered in my chest as I turned toward the shattered window.

And there he was.

Lucas.

His arms crossed.

His expression is carved from stone.

"Snitching to the elders again?" he sneered, voice far too sharp, far too cruel for such a small body. "Didn’t you learn anything from last time? Maybe I should bury you myself. Send you back to the ground to keep my mom company."

I stood frozen. The blood dripped, warm and thick against my cheek.

Memories flashed — my birthday earlier that day.

The simple dress. My sister's old ceremonial dress.

I'd worn it without thinking, craving even a moment of feeling beautiful again.

But Lucas had seen.

And he had snapped.

He'd stormed into my celebration, and dragged the cursed ink across my birthday cake, spelling RIP in jagged black letters. Thrown death lilies — sacred flowers of mourning — on top.

Then, in front of the entire pack, he shoved it into my face.

Laughter had rippled through the crowd.

Alpha Marcus had said nothing.

I hadn't screamed. I hadn't shifted. I hadn’t cried.

I just left.

But Lucas wasn't done.

He had followed me here, his tail bristling, his voice a lash.

"What, no tears? You think you’re strong now?" he spat. "You’re pathetic. The first thing I’m doing when I become Alpha is throwing you out. You don’t belong here."

I looked at him then — looked.

The boy I had fed, clothed, rocked to sleep during his night terrors.

The boy I had defended against cruel pack whispers.

The boy I had loved.

And all I felt now was... exhaustion.

"You won’t have to," I said, my voice soft and stripped bare. "I’m leaving tomorrow."

I turned my back on him and pressed a cloth to the gash on my forehead, trying to steady my breathing.

That's when I heard it — the sharp, unmistakable sound of glass shattering upstairs.

Panic punched the air from my lungs. I raced up the stairs, blood thundering in my ears.

The door to my room hung open.

Inside, devastation.

The jade moon bracelet — my mother's final gift to me before she died shielding me during the Earthquake Moon — lay shattered across the floor.

I fell to my knees.

The pieces dug into my palms as I gathered them, trembling.

That bracelet had survived everything — death, war, famine — when nothing else had.

It was the last proof that someone, once, had loved me enough to die for me.

I cradled the fragments to my chest, and for the first time in years, I broke.

Silent, wracking sobs tore through me.

Behind me, a cold voice said, "Hurts, doesn’t it?"

I turned. Jayden leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

A cruel glint in his eye.

"Now you know how it feels," he said, his voice a whip of hatred. "You took my mom from me, murderer. I’m going to destroy everything you love."

Something inside me — the last fragile piece — snapped.

I stood on shaking legs, crossed the room in two strides, and seized his small wrist.

"Pick up every shard," I said, low and dangerous. "Now."

For a flicker of a second, fear flashed in his young eyes.

Then Marcus burst in.

Without hesitation, he shoved me away. Hard.

I hit the ground, the breath knocked from my body.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Marcus roared, fangs gleaming beneath his lip. "It’s just a bracelet! You’re losing it over a damn trinket?"

I looked up at the male I had once been bound to.

The male I had once dreamed might, someday, choose me for real.

To him, it was just broken glass.

But to me, it was the last piece of my mother.

The last piece of myself.

Marcus must have sensed the shift in the air. He shoved Jayden out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Then — in a cruel, familiar pattern — he softened.

He crossed to me, knelt, and lifted me as if I weighed nothing.

Laid me on the bed.

Brushed the hair from my forehead with a gentleness I no longer believed in.

"I thought you were stronger than this," he murmured against my temple. "You owe Lucas an apology."

His hand slid to the buttons of my blouse, a sick mockery of tenderness.

"It’s your birthday," he whispered. "Let me make it up to you. Call it a reward... for everything you’ve done."

I froze.

Not out of fear.

Out of something colder.

Something final.

I caught his wrist.

And I moved it away.

Sat up, spine straight as steel.

"No, Marcus," I said, my voice calm and sharp as a blade.

"I want a divorce."