A Toast To The Luna

The scent of rain clung to the air as I stood before my father’s cold, towering office door. My heart beat like a warning drum, telling me to turn back.

But I didn’t.

I pushed the door open.

He was seated behind his mahogany desk, papers scattered, his brows furrowed in pretend concern. He didn’t even look up.

“Lynda,” he said, like my name was a burden.

“Why did you let Jane go for the Luna ceremony?” My voice trembled, but I stood straight. “That was my place. I’m the Luna. Dante is my mate.”

He finally looked up. The look in his eyes wasn’t fatherly—it was political.

“You’re too emotional to be Luna,” he said with a sigh, like this conversation exhausted him before it even began. “Jane is calmer. Obedient. And Malleable.”

I flinched.

“She’s not even a full-blooded member of our pack—she’s your bastard,” I snapped. “She wasn’t raised with our ways, our strength—she was raised with shame and a mother you betrayed ours with!”

His face darkened. “Watch your mouth.”

I laughed bitterly. “You should’ve watched yours the day you told Mother that she meant nothing, when you brought in another woman. She had a heart attack that same night—remember? Or do you forget the lives you ruin so easily?”

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the sound of thunder in the distance.

He stood, walking around his desk slowly. “Lynda, I’m doing this for the good of the pack. Jane will make Dante stronger. He’s a powerful Alpha—he needs a Luna who won’t challenge him. You’re too… fiery.”

“So this is it?” I whispered. “You’re choosing her? Over me?”

“I’m not choosing anyone. Dante is,” he said, almost smug. “He has eyes, doesn’t he?”

Those words hit harder than I expected.

My throat closed up. “He promised me,” I whispered.

Father raised an eyebrow. “Did he? Or did you assume? You’ve always been good at living in delusions, Lynda. Just like your mother.”

Something inside me cracked.

Without another word, I turned and stormed out, ignoring the sting behind my eyes. The packhouse halls blurred past me. All I wanted—needed—was to see Dante. To hear him say it wasn’t true. That he’d chosen me. That this was a misunderstanding.

I reached the training grounds behind the east wing, where Dante usually spared in the evenings.

And that’s when I saw them.

Dante’s hands cupped Jane’s face as he leaned in, slow and deliberate. Their lips met like it was rehearsed. Like it wasn’t their first time. Like they’d been waiting for the right moment to stop pretending.

I stopped breathing.

My feet rooted to the ground, the wind knocked out of my lungs.

As they pulled apart, I heard him murmur, “She’s pathetic, Jane. Still clinging to the idea that I ever wanted her. I only entertained her to keep the alliance alive. But you… you’re the one I want.”

Jane giggled—sweet, soft, and victorious. “She’ll be crushed. Oh, I can't wait to see the look on her face. ”

“I hope she is,” he replied with a cold smile. “Maybe she’ll stop forcing herself on me.”

My heart shattered into pieces so sharp they pierced every inch of me.

**So it was all fake.**

The long nights he spent holding me under the stars…

The way he kissed my forehead like I was precious…

The way he promised me forever…

All a lie.

He was never mine. I’d just been too desperate to see the truth.

But deep down, I had seen it.

The lingering glances Jane gave him. The way she volunteered to serve him meals, dressed a little too well. The time I caught them alone in the woods and Dante said it was just a coincidence.

I had dismissed it all. Told myself she was like a sister. Told myself he chose me.

I had been blind. Stupid. Just like my mother had been when she ignored the lipstick on Father’s shirt until the betrayal crushed her heart beyond repair.

I backed away, snapping a branch underfoot.

They both turned, and Dante’s expression shifted from cruelty to concern in an instant—as if *he* was the victim.

“Lynda—”

But I was already gone.

Running. Breathless. Lost in a storm of betrayal.

And just as the sky broke open and rain poured down, I collapsed beneath the old willow tree where Dante once promised he’d mark me after our wedding.

My hands trembled as I clutched my chest, trying to hold myself together.

But I was breaking.

And I wasn’t sure there’d be anything left when the storm passed.