The Forgotten Luna

Upon hearing my words, Asher’s face darkened, his amber eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “Astrid, what right do you have to speak to me like this?” he growled. “Don’t forget, this quarter is mine. I’ve provided for you, kept you safe, and supported you. You owe me everything.”

I wanted to retort, to remind him that in the nine years we had been together, I had been the one to keep the pack running—tending the injured, managing supplies, and handling every burden he deemed beneath him. Even after stepping away from my duties at his insistence, I had relied on my own resourcefulness, not him.

But before I could respond, the hearth’s fire crackled, signaling the end of the bread baking in the clay oven. I sighed, too weary to argue with him, and donned my gloves to retrieve the loaf.

Asher’s gaze softened slightly as his nose twitched, catching the aroma of the bread. His tone shifted, a rare gentleness creeping in. “Is today… your naming-day?”

I hesitated. Today was not only my 28th naming-day but also the ninth anniversary of my bond with Asher. I had spent the day gathering herbs and grinding grains to bake the bread by hand, hoping to celebrate together.

Perhaps guilt flickered in his expression because he reached for the silver goblet on the table and began filling it with honeyed mead. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, Astrid,” he said. “But I haven’t forgotten. How about this: tomorrow, I’ll take you to the market to pick out a new pendant for your chain? Something fitting for a luna.”

He sat across from me, his usual composure restored, and added, “You don’t need to be jealous of Lila. Yes, we had something once, but that was long before you. I’m with you now.”

His words triggered a painful memory. Nine years ago, when Asher and I were newly bonded, I had overheard him speaking with a fellow wolf about me.

“Why her?” his friend had asked.

Asher had laughed, his voice void of affection. “Why not? Anyone is better than Lila Thorn. I just need someone loyal, someone who won’t challenge me.”

At the time, I was too naive, too blinded by the pride of being chosen, to recognize the insult. I had thought I could earn his love through devotion.

Now, I knew better.

I met his gaze coldly. “There’s no need for gifts, Asher. I can manage without them.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off. Over the years, he had grown used to my silence and compliance. My refusal must have seemed like a temporary rebellion.

With a smirk, he stood and began lighting candles for the bread. “Make your wish, Astrid. It’s your naming-day, after all.”

For eight years, my wish had always been the same: to find happiness and love with Asher, for our bond to strengthen.

This time, my wish was different.

I wish for freedom from Asher Eldridge and the courage to reclaim my life.

I opened my eyes, ready to extinguish the candles. But before I could, Asher had already disappeared, leaving the flames flickering alone.

The bread I had spent hours kneading and baking lay in crumbles on the floor, knocked over in his hurry. The quarter’s door hung open, the chill wind sweeping through.

Cleaning up the mess, I checked my scrying mirror, the pack’s version of a group communication tool. A new update from Lila Thorn appeared:

“I’m so clumsy! I tripped again today, but my Alpha was there to catch me before I fell. What would I do without him?”

In the comments, Asher had written: “You’ll never need to find out. I’ll always be there for you.”

The very Cain who hadn’t even glanced my way when I had sprained my ankle during a hunt.

Moments later, a message from Cain appeared:

“Lila injured her paw. I’m taking her to the healer. Go clean up her den, and bring a fresh herbal poultice to the healer. Don’t forget to include the wolfmint she likes.”

Suddenly, everything clicked. Asher’s inexplicable dislike of wolfmint in my cooking, his constant critiques—none of it had been about him. It had always been about Lila.

I considered ignoring his command but found myself heading toward Lila’s den out of old habit.

Asher was cradling Lila in his arms, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he spoke to her. When he saw me, his face immediately hardened.

“Why are you so late?” he snapped. “If Lila’s recovery is delayed, it’ll be on you.”

Lila tugged gently at his sleeve, her eyes wide with feigned concern. “Asher, don’t blame Astrid. I know she doesn’t like me, but I understand. She’s just… insecure.”

“Insecure?” Asher repeated, glaring at me. “No, Lila. She’s jealous and insubordinate. I can’t lead a pack with a luna who can’t even manage her duties.”

He turned back to me, his voice low and full of warning. “Clean this place up properly, Astrid. And remember, if you can’t handle this, you’ll never be worthy of standing beside me.”

With that, he carried Lila toward the healer’s hut, leaving me behind.

The den was in shambles. The floor was wet, the bedding unmade, and a faint, cloying scent hung in the air.

When I found two used mating cloths discarded near the fireplace, nausea churned in my stomach.

This was where Asher had been spending his late nights under the guise of pack business.

I looked around at the luxury items that adorned Lila’s den: fine tapestries, imported crystals, and rare perfumes.

Just days ago, I had asked Asher for a

simple trinket to mark my naming-day.

“Why bother?” he had sneered. “You’re 28, Astrid. Celebrating at your age is pathetic. No amount of gifts will turn back the clock.”

I took a deep breath, my resolve hardening. Slowly, I began taking pictures of everything in the den—the damning evidence of Asher’s betrayal.

Back at the lodge, I packed my belongings. Everything I owned fit into one satchel, a stark contrast to the life I had built around Asher.

As I finished, I called my old friend Dana Kings, who had left the pack years ago to start anew.

“Dana,” I said, my voice trembling. “You were right. I should never have stayed with Asher. I’m done. I want to come find you.”

Dana didn’t sugarcoat her response. “You’re a fool, Astrid. But even fools deserve a second chance. Come quickly.”

Before hanging up, she sent me a travel pass for the next caravan. It departed in three days.

As tears spilled down my cheeks, I smiled for the first time in years. For the wolf I had been, for the nine years I had lost—and for the freedom I was about to reclaim.