Once Broken, Twice Claimed

Today was the pack’s monthly breakfast gathering, a tradition Eleanor once hosted as Luna.

She rose before the sun, slipping into the plainest dress she could find. She braided her hair neatly and washed her face with cold water.

Then, reaching for her metal cane, she made a follow-up call to Elder Orin about her record in the Werewolf archive. She needed to be certain it had been wiped clean before she made her move to leave the pack.

At the dining hall, she set the table in silence, then she stepped back and took a seat near the hearth, her metal cane resting beside her.

Some glanced at her nervously, still recognizing her authority but are too afraid to show it.

But when the high-ranking wolves arrived, they breezed past her and greeted Sadie first.

The redhead whore was radiant, wearing Eleanor’s old Luna crest like a necklace and a red gown from Eleanor’s wardrobe. She sat comfortably in Amiel’s lap, laughing at something Beta Ruvan whispered to her.

Eleanor stood behind them, pouring tea, steadying each cup. Her eyes, though milky, scanned the room. She listened to every heartbeat, caught every smirk.

“Careful, Eleanor,” Amiel drawled as she poured his tea. “Wouldn’t want another incident, would we?”

A few wolves chuckled.

Sadie leaned into him. “Alpha, don’t tease. She’s doing her best.”

“I’m sure she is,” he replied with a grin. “She’s just a little slow.”

As Eleanor moved down the table, someone bumped her elbow—accidentally, they claimed. The tea sloshed but didn’t spill.

But then a quiet hand reached out to steady her. “You’re fine,” the deep voice said.

Without looking up at him, she gave the smallest of nods and moved on.

Moments later, as she refilled Sadie’s glass, the redhead mistress suddenly jerked forward. Red wine splashed across Eleanor’s bodice.

“Oh no,” Sadie gasped in mock horror. “This fabric… I think it’s ruined!"

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop dragging that relic around? It's embarrassing, Eleanor." Amiel yelled, hugging Sadie who was still whining about her dress." You're blind—permanently blind. That means you need to stop being clumsy and useless. Practice. Adapt. Or you'll keep humiliating both of us like this."

Someone nearby muttered, “Should she even be sitting here? Isn’t she more of a kitchen wolf now?”

The laughter spread.

Sadie turned sweetly. “We don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, do we? Sister, would you mind joining the omegas in the other room?”

Eleanor’s jaw clenched. As she stood to leave, her foot caught subtly on Sadie’s outstretched boot. She stumbled forward and collapsed onto the floor, her metal cane clattering and sliding out of reach.

A wave of laughter swept the room.

Eleanor’s eyes landed on her cane, but Sadie bent slowly, tracing its outline with her toe without picking it up.

"Funny, even your cane's ashamed to be near you."

Eleanor’s hands curled into fists at her sides.

How dare they laugh? she thought, blinking back tears that burned behind her lashes. How dare they treat me like I didn’t contribute something as Luna.

Her throat tightened. She had once stood at the head of this table, and had once commanded this room. And now she was the joke.

It was then that the same man stood from his chair and picked up the cane. He handed it to Eleanor.

She, on the other hand, gripped the cane more firmly, not just out of necessity, but as a stand against the humiliation.

Sadie’s voice rang out, brittle and mocking. “Alpha Colt, don’t waste your help on a useless, outgoing Luna.”

Amiel said nothing, but his eyes narrowed at the way Colt looked at Eleanor.

“Of all the people here, you should be the last one treating her like this.”

Sadie stiffened. “Maybe you’re right. But I won’t tolerate her mistakes just because she’s my sister.”

Colt scoffed. “I’m not referring to your fake bond to the Luna. I mean you being an omega. You should know what it feels like to be degraded. Don’t repeat the same cruelty just to distance yourself from your past.”

Sadie's face flushed a deep crimson. She turned to Amiel, seeking rescue with pleading eyes.

But Amiel remained silent, watching Alpha Colt bent and carefully lifted Eleanor into his arms, carrying her out of the room.

No one dared speak.

---

Outside the backhouse, Colt set her gently on her feet.

Eleanor adjusted the hem of her sleeve, fingers fumbling as if searching for invisible threads. “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. You’re their guest.”

Colt brushed a braid behind her ear, his gaze holding hers. “Now that we’re alone, stop pretending you’re blind.”

A strange flutter twisted in her chest. She gulped, turning her gaze away from him. “What are you saying?”

“You’re not blind." He reached up, pressing his fingers under her chin, lifting her gaze. "Now, recognize my face, Elle.”

No one had called her that name in years.

So she looked up, her green eyes dilated as old memories surfaced. “Is that you, Coco?”

He had been five years ahead of her in the academy, but even when she was just a small, timid pup surrounded by sneering older wolves, he'd stepped in. He had a way of appearing whenever the other werewolves tried to shove her around or corner her during sparring sessions.

“Yes. But I go by my real name now.” Colt smiled, and added, "Can you say my name for me? Without that alpha thing."

"Colt." Eleanor chuckled with happy tears streaming down her face. "I'm happy you're back."

Then his expression hardened as he looked her over. “And I’m here to get you out of this place.”