Marked by Him, Reborn Without Him

Selene’s POV

Nobody came to rescue us.

Trapped in that icy, pitch-black cavern, I held my son as the final breath left his small chest. I wailed until my lungs burned, sobbed until my voice broke, my body trembling as I desperately fought—fought with every shred of strength—to keep him breathing.

I pleaded with the Moon Goddess to spare him. I begged until I was breathless.

But she never listened.

She never has.

When my sister finally appeared with members of our pack, it was already too late. I barely registered the sound of her cries as her eyes landed on Elior’s lifeless form. The healer did everything she could, tried spell after spell, but I knew. Deep in my bones, I knew he was already gone.

All I could do was sit there.

Frozen.

Empty.

Tears slid down my cheeks, but they brought no comfort. My chest felt hollow—like someone had ripped my heart out and left an aching, endless void that nothing would ever fill.

My sister brought me back to the territory. That’s when she told me what had happened—Alpha Ronan’s men had been slaughtered. The rogues had outmatched them completely. They didn’t even have a chance.

The moment she found out, she had raced to me.

And yet, I hadn’t called her.

I had reached out to Ronan.

If I had just turned to her instead… maybe Elior would still be alive.

But I was stupid. Foolish. So blindly loyal to a man I thought would choose us. A man I thought would save his own child over someone who had once turned her back on him.

Ronan had the power to destroy every last one of those rogues. He could have torn through them without breaking a sweat.

But he didn’t.

He made a choice.

He deliberately chose her—the woman who once left him in ruins.

A full week had gone by. And now, here I was, standing in front of the grave that held my son’s body. His name etched into the cold gray stone, forever frozen in time. I hadn’t gone back to Ashfen Pack. I hadn’t answered a single call. I’d ignored every message from Ronan demanding answers, claiming we needed to talk.

Talk?

What conversation could possibly matter now?

There was nothing left to discuss.

I was nothing now. Just a broken silhouette of the woman I used to be. When my son died, he took the last part of me with him.

One morning, I lay curled up on my bed, facing the wall as silence swallowed the room. That’s when my father walked in.

His tone was calm, but the tension in his voice said everything he didn’t.

“Alpha Ronan’s on his way,” he said quietly.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

I kept staring at the wall, wishing I could’ve taken Elior’s place.

But I was still breathing. Still here. And all I could feel was a deep, simmering rage.

Rage directed at myself.

Rage directed at Ronan.

“What does he want?” I muttered. My voice was scratchy, each syllable heavy and dry like gravel in my throat.

“You’re still the Luna of Ashfen Pack,” my father answered. “You have duties.”

Duties?

A humorless chuckle escaped me. I couldn’t believe that’s what mattered to him—responsibilities—while I was drowning in grief.

He left without another word, closing the door behind him. And somehow, I found the will to move.

I dragged myself out of bed and dressed in black. Pulled my hair into a tight, neat bun. When I looked at my reflection, the lifeless woman staring back didn’t feel like me. Her eyes were empty. Shadows clung beneath them.

I used makeup to hide the damage—to bury the signs of mourning beneath layers of foundation and powder.

Ronan didn’t deserve to see my pain.

He arrived shortly after, pulling me into an embrace like it could erase the past. His arms were firm around me, his expression filled with hope. The same green eyes I once adored—green like the woods where we first met—searched mine.

But I felt... nothing.

I tried to smile.

I couldn’t.

All I wanted was to tear him apart. To drag him into the same agony I had been drowning in.

“Elior? Where is he?” Ronan asked.

Hearing my son’s name again—it was like a dagger to the chest. Images of the cave, the smell of blood, the frantic prayers—I saw it all again.

I laughed.

It was sharp. Empty. Laced with venom.

Ronan’s brows pulled together. “That’s not what I needed to hear, Luna.”

Luna.

As if that word still held weight.

“You’re searching for Elior?” I said quietly, every word soaked in acid.

He frowned. “Didn’t you hear me? What’s wrong with you?” He reached for my arm, but I stepped away.

His confusion was instant.

Then realization swept over him.

“You’re upset because I didn’t come,” he said gently. “Please—I can explain. I’m here now because—”

I cut him off. “Did you receive the letter?”

His forehead creased. “Letter?”

“Elior’s funeral,” I said coldly.

Silence fell between us.

The color drained from his face. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came.

You didn’t come.

I pushed the words past the lump in my throat. “You weren’t there when he needed you. You weren’t there when I was losing him. You weren’t even there when we laid him to rest.”

My voice trembled, but I wouldn’t fall apart—not in front of him. He didn’t get to see the wreckage.

He ran his fingers through his hair, clearly at a loss. His wolf stirred within him, sensing mine’s pain.

Because she was still mourning.

Still breaking.

Our bond was threadbare now—on the verge of snapping.

And he knew it.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

Sorry?

A bitter laugh burst out of me.

“Sorry?” I repeated, my voice cracking under the weight of fury. “You might as well have killed him yourself.”

His eyes darkened. “Don’t say that.”

“You did kill him!” I screamed, my entire body shaking. The pain, the grief—it all surged out of me in one violent wave.

That’s when he lost control.

He gripped my arm roughly, his emerald eyes blazing. “Don’t go there, Selene. Don’t you dare. You’re lucky I even saw him as my own.”

Time stopped.

I froze.

My lungs refused to pull in air.

“What the hell did you just say?”