The Alpha Who Let His Luna Die

I stood in the doorway longer than I should have.

Blackthorn Hall looked the same—stone walls warmed by firelight, antlers mounted above the hearth, banners stitched with the pack sigil hanging in quiet authority. This place had once felt like the safest den in the world. Tonight, it felt staged. Rearranged.

Occupied.

Vaelis was curled against Kaelrion on the main couch as if she had always belonged there. Not sitting—curled. Her legs tucked beneath her, her head tilted just right so her hair brushed his shoulder. Too familiar. Too practiced.

She was feeding him fruit.

Not in a rushed way. Not shyly. Slowly, deliberately, like she had all the time in the world and wanted me to see exactly how she was using it.

“Eirlys!” Kaelrion shot to his feet the moment he saw me, nearly knocking over the low table. The movement was too quick, too rehearsed. Guilt and relief crossed his face at the same time. “You’re back. I—come here.”

He stepped toward me, hands out as if he could still pull me into his arms and make everything right by force alone.

I didn’t move.

Instead, my eyes went to the small velvet box he held out to me.

“I got you something,” he said, voice soft, coaxing. “If you take this… it means you agree. You’ll let me stay with her for the month. Just until the binding. Just say yes.”

I stared at the box.

A gift. An offering. A peace treaty wrapped in velvet.

“I don’t need it,” I said quietly. “I’ll agree even without that.”

The words surprised him.

“You will?” His eyes widened, hope flaring too fast. “You really mean that?”

“Yes.”

Each letter scraped my throat raw.

Vaelis was on her feet instantly, crossing the space between us with a brightness that made my skin crawl. She took my arm as if we were sisters again, as if she hadn’t just posted my mate’s hand on the internet like a trophy.

“Good,” she said sweetly. “Then we can all be comfortable, right? No jealousy. No misunderstandings.” She tilted her head at me, smile perfect. “Kaelrion’s only helping me fulfill a dream. Just one month.”

I slipped my arm free.

“I won’t be jealous.”

Kaelrion visibly relaxed, tension draining from his shoulders as if I’d passed some invisible test. He moved quickly, eager to fill the silence, rushing toward the kitchen.

“I made you something,” he said over his shoulder. “Soup. It’s good for your blood. You should eat.”

I watched him ladle it into a bowl with the same care he used to reserve for me alone. He brought it over himself, setting it gently into my hands like an offering to the Moon.

It smelled warm. Familiar.

I told myself not to hesitate.

I took one sip.

The burn hit instantly.

Not heat—wrongness. My throat tightened violently, lungs seizing as if they’d suddenly forgotten how to draw air. My vision swam.

“No—” I gasped, clutching my chest. “Kaelrion—this—”

My body reacted faster than thought. Wolf and flesh screaming in unison. My knees buckled as pain ripped through me, sharp and sudden and terrifyingly familiar.

“Shrimp,” I choked. “You put shrimp in this. Kaelrion—I’m allergic.”

The room exploded into motion.

“What?” He went pale, the bowl slipping from his hands and shattering on the floor. “No—no, that can’t be right. I thought—”

Vaelis stepped in smoothly, voice calm and helpful. “You’re mistaken,” she said, frowning lightly. “I’m allergic to peanuts. You remembered that, didn’t you? I told you last week.”

The world tilted.

He remembered hers.

Not mine.

My chest constricted violently, each breath coming shallower than the last. My hands trembled as I tried to stay upright, pain tearing through me like claws.

“Alpha!” someone shouted. “Get the healer!”

The last thing I saw before darkness crept in was Kaelrion’s face—panic-stricken now, shouting my name as if volume could undo what he’d already forgotten.

—

I woke to the steady rhythm of a healer’s chant and the bitter taste of antidote on my tongue.

My body felt heavy. Bruised from the inside. Like I’d been dragged back from the edge by force rather than choice.

Kaelrion sat beside the bed.

His eyes were red. Bloodshot. He was gripping my hand too tightly, knuckles white, as if afraid I’d dissolve if he let go.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I’m so sorry. It was a mistake. I mixed it up. I swear I won’t let this happen again.” His voice cracked. “I canceled everything. For the next few days, it’s just you. I promise.”

I turned my face away.

“You don’t need to apologize,” I said softly. “You already belong to her.”

He shook his head, panic flaring. “That’s not true. This isn’t real. It’s a deal, Eirlys. One month. I’m pretending so she’ll save you. Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”

I closed my eyes.

“Just remember what she likes,” I murmured. “Her allergies. Her habits. Take care of her.” A pause. “And stay out of my life.”

His breath hitched. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

The silence stretched.

Finally, he stood. “Rest,” he said hoarsely.

The door closed behind him with a sound heavier than a slammed gate.

I lay there long after he left, staring at the ceiling until the firelight blurred. My chest ached—not just from the reaction, but from something deeper. Something final.

A month.

That was all I had left.

Later that night, when the hall was quiet and my strength had returned just enough to move, I dragged myself out of bed and crossed to the far corner of the room. I knelt and pulled a dusty chest from beneath the wardrobe.

Inside was my life.

Old trinkets. Notes written in Kaelrion’s hand when he was still learning how to soften his words. A broken silver clasp from my first Luna mantle. Polaroids from before blood, borders, and betrayal.

In every image, he was looking at me.

I closed the lid and carried the box outside.

The night air bit into my skin as I lit the brazier. One by one, I fed the memories to the fire, watching paper curl and burn, silver blacken, laughter turn to ash.

“What are you doing?!”

The shout came too late.

Vaelis rushed toward me and shoved hard. The brazier tipped, hot coals scattering across the stone. Pain lanced up my arm as one struck skin.

“If you didn’t want me here, just say it!” she cried. “Why are you burning my things?!”

My teeth clenched. “These aren’t yours.”

Footsteps thundered.

Kaelrion appeared, grabbing her instantly, pulling her into his chest as if she were the one in danger.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

She clung to him, trembling. “She hates me so much she started burning my things. I was scared.”

His gaze finally landed on me.

There was no concern in it.

Only disappointment.

“How could you, Eirlys?” he said. “After everything she’s done for you?”

My fingers trembled as I reached into the ashes and lifted a half-burned photograph.

“Look,” I said, voice breaking. “These are mine. Our memories.”

For a heartbeat, he froze.

Then Vaelis whimpered. “My hand… I think I burned it.”

He released me without hesitation.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said urgently, already guiding her back inside.

I stood alone by the dying fire, ash clinging to my skin, watching the Alpha walk away with the woman who wore my place like a borrowed crown.

Something inside me finally went quiet.

And I knew—

this wasn’t about survival anymore.

It was about how much of myself I was willing to lose before I let the Moon take the rest.