Luna Faked Her Death

Morning light filtered through the curtains, harsh and unforgiving. I hadn't slept. How could I? Sarah had whimpered inside me all night, her distress mirroring my own. The weight of what I'd agreed to do pressed against my chest like a stone.

I found Elara in her healing quarters, grinding herbs with practiced precision. When she looked up, her eyes widened at whatever she saw in my face.

"Luna Chloe," she said softly, setting aside her mortar. "What's happened?"

The room smelled of sage and yarrow—healing scents that usually brought me comfort. Today, they couldn't touch the cold dread that had settled in my bones.

"I need something," I whispered, glancing at the closed door. "Something to strengthen my resolve."

Elara's brow furrowed. "For what purpose?"

My voice caught. How could I explain? The words felt like betrayal even before they left my lips.

"Alpha Ryan has asked me to... temporarily break our mate bond. For the pack's survival." The explanation sounded hollow even to my own ears.

Elara's hands stilled. Something flashed across her face—alarm, perhaps suspicion—before she carefully masked it.

"A mate bond isn't a light switch, Luna," she said, her voice low and urgent. "Even temporary separation causes damage. To both wolves."

"I know." My fingers traced the mark on my neck—Ryan's claim. "But the alternative is worse. Our territory, our people..."

Elara didn't respond immediately. Instead, she moved to a cabinet, her movements deliberate as she selected vials and pouches.

"I can give you something to ease the physical pain," she finally said, mixing oils in a small bowl. "But nothing can shield your heart or your wolf from what's coming."

As she worked, she spoke again, her voice barely audible. "Your wolf is part of your strength, Luna. Whatever happens, don't lose her."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, Elara approached with the mixture, applying it to my pulse points—wrists, throat, behind my ears. The scent was subtle, calming.

"Wolves survive because they know when to fight and when to run," she said cryptically. Her eyes met mine, conveying something beyond her words. "Remember that."

*She knows something,* Sarah whispered inside me.

Before I could press further, a knock came at the door. Time had run out.

---

The diplomatic robes felt heavy on my shoulders as I stood in my chambers. Midnight blue fabric embroidered with silver—the colors of our pack. Ryan had selected them himself, along with the scent I was to wear.

"Jasmine," he'd instructed. "With notes of pine."

My hand trembled as I dabbed the oil at my throat. Pine—my secret mate-scent to Ryan. The scent that had once made his eyes darken with desire when we were alone. Now I was to wear it for another.

*This is wrong,* Sarah growled, pacing restlessly beneath my skin. *We should not do this.*

"We have no choice," I whispered, though doubt gnawed at me. Something about Ryan's relief the night before—the eagerness with which he'd suggested this plan—didn't align with the sacrifice he claimed it to be.

When he appeared at my door, his expression was impassive, businesslike. No trace of the mate who had held me through countless nights, who had promised me forever.

"You look appropriate," he said, his eyes sweeping over me without warmth.

Each step toward the waiting cars felt like walking to my own execution. Pack members watched from windows and doorways, their expressions a mixture of confusion and concern. I kept my head high, my Luna mask firmly in place. They couldn't know. No one could know the truth of what their Alpha had asked of me.

---

The Alpha King's grand hall loomed before us, a massive structure of stone and timber that radiated ancient power. Guards flanked the entrance, their postures rigid, eyes watchful. My heart hammered against my ribs as we approached.

"Remember why we're here," Ryan murmured, his hand at the small of my back—not in support, but in warning.

The doors swung open, revealing a cavernous space dominated by a raised dais. And there he sat—Alpha King Theron. His aura hit me like a physical force, powerful enough to make my knees weak. Legends spoke of his strength, but nothing had prepared me for the reality of his presence.

I steadied my breathing, calling on years of diplomatic training. As we approached the throne, I let my own gentle Luna tone infuse the air around us—not challenging, but complementary. A subtle reminder that I was not just any she-wolf, but a Luna in my own right.

The Alpha King's eyes found mine, and something shifted in his expression—curiosity, perhaps.

"Alpha Ryan of the Moonstone Pack," his voice rumbled through the hall, "and his Luna." His gaze lingered on me a moment too long. "What brings you to my court?"