His Luna Was Never the Other Woman

[Selene, please stop being so sensitive and antagonizing Adressa. You two are going to be seeing a lot of each other. I hope you'll get along from now on.]

I let out a quiet breath.

So that was it.

That was his solution.

A jar of burn salve in exchange for silence.

For obedience.

For pretending nothing had happened.

For accepting that he would keep both of us in his life, as if we were things he could arrange however he pleased.

I didn't reply.

I worked the salve into the wound silently, the coolness stinging against the scalded skin while my wolf paced low and restless beneath it, then lay down on the bed. Through the wall I could hear the faint tick of the den's ward-panel cycling through its nightly check, the low hum that kept the Alpha's territory sealed. The den was built for his convenience, warded for his safety. Not for mine.

He didn't come home that night.

The next morning, the moment I stepped into the front den of the Nightbane Pack, I could feel it.

The change.

Eyes followed me everywhere I went. Conversations cut off the second I got close, only to resume in hushed whispers the moment I passed. The hostesses. The floor runners. Even the barkeep who usually dipped his head good morning wouldn't look at me. Their scents had soured with something I knew too well, the thin nervous tang of a pack that smelled blood in the water.

It felt like walking into a hive that had been violently shaken.

As I sat down at my desk, Gianessa leaned over almost immediately, the corner of her order slate curling between her fingers as she twisted it tight. Her scent, fresh clover and warm bread, came tight with worry.

"Selene… people are saying you tried to get with the Alpha," she whispered. "And his she-wolf caught you in the act. It's all over the spirit network."

She slid her crystal communicator toward me.

A recording was playing.

The scene from the gathering hall last night.

Someone had caught all of it on a crystal orb.

At some point during the chaos, a new thread had been opened on the network just to spread it. Message after message scrolled past, speculation, accusations, mockery. Whispers on the floor made permanent.

They painted me as some unmarked Omega who'd tried to claw her way into the Pack's good graces and got caught.

I stared at the screen, my expression calm, even as something inside me went completely still. Somewhere deep down, my wolf had gone silent too, the way she did when a wound went bone-deep.

Before I could take it in further, the front doors opened.

Salvar walked in.

With Adressa right beside him.

The Alpha's lion-crest ring of succession turned slow and idle across his knuckles, catching the overhead light once, twice. His scent reached me before his voice did, black cedar and cold iron, ash and bitter clove, the way it always had.

"Everyone," he said, his voice clear and carrying the weight of an Alpha used to obedience, "let me introduce our new front-den overseer. Adressa."

So that was what he meant.

When he said we would be seeing a lot of each other.

He hadn't been exaggerating.

He had brought her directly into the Pack's front den.

As my superior.

The room fell silent. Heads lowered, shoulders dropped, the floor going quiet under the press of his aura.

Every pair of eyes turned toward me.

For the past few weeks, ever since the last overseer severed ties and vanished beyond the border grounds, I had been the one carrying most of the responsibilities. Everyone assumed I would move up in the ranks.

It seemed obvious.

Until now.

Salvar added Adressa to the den's internal thread right there in front of everyone. Almost at once, both of them sent messages.

Their portraits appeared side by side.

Matching.

A mated pair.

Smiling.

Perfect.

The implication couldn't have been clearer.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of whispers and sidelong glances. No one was really working. Everyone was watching.

Talking.

Judging.

But I didn't care anymore.

I was leaving.

Before midday, I drafted my letter severing ties from the pack and sent it through the proper channels.

With nothing left binding me here, I stood and walked to the back room.

I needed something warm. Something simple.

I brewed myself a cup of honeyed grapefruit tea, watching the steam rise slowly, the scent soft and calming. Sweet. Light. Nothing like the bitterness I had just left behind.

I had barely taken two sips when the door opened again.

Adressa walked in like she owned the den.

Confident. Unhurried.

She poured herself a coffee, then crossed to me and sat down right beside me, folding one leg over the other as if settling onto a throne that had always been hers. White jasmine drifted off her, copper beneath it, and something faintly too-sweet, like petals beginning to turn.

Her presence filled the room.

Her voice, when she spoke, was smooth and sweet, but underneath it, there was something sharp.

"Selene," she said, her lips curving slightly, "I know you've been Salvar's little secret for five years."

She tilted her head, studying me.

"But I'm his she-wolf now. Out in the open, where the whole pack can see."

There was a pause.

"I'm back," she continued softly, "and it's time for the mistress to know when to leave."

Her smile didn't waver.

"As long as you keep your mouth shut like you always have," she added lightly, "I won't make things harder for you."

The threat was gentle.

Polite.

But unmistakable.

As she spoke, Adressa casually unlocked her communicator and tapped a voice message, holding it just close enough for me to hear.

The recording played.

It was the little boy from yesterday.

His voice was bright, sweet in that practiced, childish way, but there was something smug underneath it, something that didn't belong to innocence at all.

"Auntie Adressa, wasn't I awesome? Don't forget the toy you promised me!"

The message ended with a soft click.

And just like that, everything fell into place.

Every detail. Every movement. Every perfectly timed reaction from last night.

It hadn't been an accident.

None of it had.