Luna's Fall and Rise

The cool night air did nothing to calm the fire in my veins as Charles dragged me outside the pack hall. My mind kept replaying Pierce's words, the images on his phone—Winter, bound and bloodied.

"Let go of me!" I wrenched my arm free, turning to face my mate. "Did you hear what he said? He admitted to killing Winter!"

Charles's face remained impassive in the moonlight. "He was drunk, Oakleigh. Making idle boasts."

"I saw the photos, Charles." My voice cracked. "Winter—my sister—tied up and bleeding. He showed them off like trophies!"

"Photos can be faked." Charles ran a hand through his hair, his tone maddeningly calm. "You know how easy it is with technology these days."

I stared at him, disbelief washing over me. "You can't possibly believe that."

"Listen to me." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Pierce is Sloane's son. Sloane has been my most trusted advisor for years. Her family has connections with three other packs."

The implication hit me like a physical blow. "So?"

"So pack politics require careful handling." His eyes flickered with something I'd never seen before—calculation. "If I arrest Pierce based on drunk talk and questionable photos, I risk destabilizing crucial alliances."

"He murdered my sister!" The words tore from my throat.

"If—and that's a big if—he did anything wrong, we need to handle this delicately." Charles placed his hands on my shoulders. "For the good of the pack."

My wolf snarled inside me. "I'm taking this to the Lycan Council."

Charles's expression hardened. His eyes flashed with Alpha dominance as he grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "No, you're not. You're going to let this go."

The command in his voice pressed against my chest, but something else pressed back—my rage, my grief, my certainty.

"You knew," I whispered, the horrible truth dawning on me. "You've known all along."

His silence was confirmation enough.

---

Morning light filtered through the curtains of my quarters when the door opened without a knock. Sloane Richardson glided in, carrying a tray with tea and pastries.

"Luna Oakleigh," she greeted with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I thought you might need some comfort."

I straightened against the pillows, my wolf instantly alert. "I'm not hungry."

"Tea then." She poured a steaming cup, adding honey with practiced precision. "Charles told me about your... concerns last night."

"Did he tell you about the photos? The confession?"

Sloane's smile tightened. "Pierce was being foolish. Boys will be boys."

"Boys don't torture and murder innocent wolves."

She set the cup down and sat across from me, smoothing her skirt. "Charles has moved past his obligation to his fated mate."

The words hit like ice water. "What?"

"He's chosen me." Her voice softened to false sympathy. "And soon, we'll have the heir this pack deserves."

My hands trembled as I reached for the tea. "That's not possible. We're mated."

"A rejection ceremony would change that." Sloane leaned forward. "In fact, I've convinced Charles that Pierce should offer you one—to bring closure to this unfortunate incident."

"Closure?" I echoed, disgust rising in my throat.

"It would be best for everyone." Her eyes hardened. "Accept it gracefully."

Something snapped inside me. I hurled the tea at her feet, the cup shattering against the floor.

"Gracefully?" I spat. "Like Winter did when your son was torturing her?"

Sloane's sweet facade vanished. She leaned forward, voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "She died screaming."

My breath caught.

"And you'll suffer far worse if you continue making trouble." Her hand moved to her stomach in a protective gesture. "I'm carrying Charles's heir. He will always choose his chosen mate and future child over a barren Luna like you."

---

The summons came that evening—Charles wanted to see me in his office. I knew what awaited me.

When I entered, they were all there: Charles behind his desk, Sloane standing beside him, and Pierce lounging in a chair with a smirk that made my skin crawl.

"Oakleigh." Charles's voice was formal, distant. "Pierce has something to say to you."

Pierce stood, straightening his jacket with theatrical precision. "I, Pierce Richardson, son of the most loyal pack advisor, reject you, Oakleigh Wright, weakling Luna who couldn't even protect her own sister, as someone worthy of my apology or acknowledgment."

He paused, clearly expecting me to respond with the traditional acceptance.

Instead, something primal surged through me. Before anyone could react, I lunged forward and grabbed Pierce by the throat, lifting him until his feet barely touched the ground.

My eyes glowed golden as my wolf took control. "I will never accept your rejection," I growled. "It would free you too easily."

Shock registered on every face—especially when my grip tightened.

"Release him!" Charles roared, his Alpha command crashing over me like a wave.

My body trembled with resistance as I fought against his order. For a moment—just a moment—I held firm.

Then my muscles gave way, and Pierce dropped to the floor, gasping.

Charles stared at me with newfound fear in his eyes.

What had just happened? Where had that strength come from?