The Luna He Never Wanted

The next morning dawned pale and gray, the sun veiled behind thick clouds that dulled the land in muted tones. Even at dawn, the Silverfang territory pulsed with activity. Wolves bustled about the fortress-like pack hall, preparing for the return of Selene—the golden daughter who had supposedly come to “heal rifts” and strengthen alliances.

My body ached with exhaustion, the remnants of last night’s grief clinging like ash to my skin, but Lucien was already at my side before the sun fully rose. His arm wound tightly around my waist as though to tether me. To the pack, it was a sign of possessiveness. To me, it was a leash.

“Straighten your shoulders, Luna,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear. “They’re watching.”

The words burned. They always were watching—judging, weighing, waiting for me to falter. And Selene knew it.

By the time we approached the Silverfang pack hall, the air thrummed with anticipation. The hall was a fortress carved from black stone, its archways lined with torches that hissed and crackled despite the daylight. Wolves filled the wide steps, dressed in crimson, gold, and sable, their silks and jewels gleaming. The scent of roasted venison, boar, and honey cakes mingled with smoke, ale, and the underlying musk of restless wolves.

Every instinct screamed at me to turn away, but Lucien tightened his grip, steering me forward. His golden eyes gleamed with that prideful sharpness, the kind that said he was less escorting his Luna and more parading his property.

The great doors swung open.

A hush rippled through the gathered wolves, then soft murmurs—mocking rather than admiring. I caught the smirks of warriors I recognized from the night before, their eyes glinting with the knowledge of Lucien’s words. A few she-wolves tittered behind jeweled hands, laughter sharp as knives.

Lucien ignored it all. He pressed a kiss to my forehead for the crowd to see. The gesture looked tender. My stomach turned. His display wasn’t love—it was performance, a warning to the pack that I was his possession.

And then she appeared.

“Sister!”

Selene’s voice rang out, clear as a silver bell. The crowd parted for her as though the Moon Goddess herself walked among them. She glided forward in a crimson silk gown that shimmered like flame, jewels woven into her golden hair. Every step was measured, every glance purposeful, her beauty shining with weaponized precision.

When her eyes met mine, she smiled warmly—too warmly. Behind it, I saw the hunger, the glee at this stage she’d orchestrated.

She seized my hands, her palms soft but her grip iron. “Do you despise me so, Liora? We were raised as sisters. Yet not a single letter, not a single visit after you left. Have you truly forgotten me?”

I stiffened, her false sorrow cutting deeper than open malice.

Selene’s eyes shone with unshed tears, perfectly timed. “I am sorry, for monopolizing our parents’ love. But it was never my fault, was it? Love cannot be forced. Mother is dying, her heart weakening by the day, and you—her own daughter—never came to her bedside.”

A ripple of murmurs swept through the hall. Wolves stared, some with pity, others with open disdain.

My throat locked. My wolf bristled in protest, but my body refused to speak.

Lucien’s voice cut through, smooth as polished steel. “It is true. Liora struggles with bonds of family. When I have time, I will take her to see your parents, Selene. She will apologize properly.”

My heart plummeted, heavy and leaden. He knew. He knew the truth—that my parents had never truly been mine, that I had been the unwanted stray in their household, while Selene basked in their adoration. He knew I had been abandoned by blood and bond alike. And yet he sided with her, dismissing my pain for her performance.

Selene’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile before she dabbed delicately at her eyes. “Thank you, Alpha. You are as generous as ever.”

The wolves around us nodded approvingly, some even sighing. Selene had stolen the moment, casting herself as the gracious victim, and me—the Luna—as nothing but a bitter shadow.

I excused myself quickly, murmuring something about needing air. My chest was too tight, my skin too raw under the weight of their stares.

I slipped down a long, quiet corridor lined with portraits of Silverfang Alphas past. Their painted eyes followed me, heavy with judgment. Each step echoed too loudly against the stone, the murmurs from the hall fading into silence.

And then, a voice slid through the quiet. Smooth. Venomous.

“Well, if it isn’t the forgotten pup.”

My breath caught.

Selene emerged from the shadows, her crimson gown whispering across the marble floor. A glass of red wine swirled lazily in her hand, the liquid catching the torchlight like blood.

She looked me over slowly, from the plain folds of my gown to the scuffed slippers I had chosen in haste. Her lips curled.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you raided an elder’s closet,” she purred. “Tell me, was that your grandmother’s dress?”

The words struck like claws to the gut. My grandmother—the only wolf who had ever shown me true love—was bedridden, her life draining away with each moonrise. Selene knew it. She wielded the knowledge like a blade.

She circled me leisurely, a predator toying with prey. “How does it feel, working yourself ragged in some filthy tavern while I lived as the cherished daughter of the Dawson family? Even now, your poor grandmother wastes away, her meager savings drained by your pathetic attempts to keep her alive.”

“Stop,” I whispered, trembling, claws pricking at my palms.

Her smirk sharpened. “Don’t look so shocked. Lucien tells me everything. Your failures. Your humiliations. How hard you work to please him. How desperately you dream of being loved.” She leaned closer, her breath hot against my ear. “He shares it all with me.”

The air rushed from my lungs. Only Lucien knew those things. Only he knew the depth of my sacrifices. And he had given them to her as gossip, as weapons.

Tears blurred my sight, but Selene’s face remained sharp. Cruel.

“You unlucky little wretch,” she sneered. “Why didn’t you stay gone? Why come back to take what was never yours?”

I shook my head, voice breaking. “You already have everything, Selene. Why torment me?”

Her laughter rang, cold and delighted. “Everything? You think I have everything while you sleep in Lucien’s bed?” She tilted her head, wolf’s fire flickering faintly in her eyes. “He was always mine. You’re nothing but a placeholder, a stand-in for the mate he truly wanted.”

Her words coiled like a serpent around my throat.

“Tonight,” she whispered, leaning close, “he will come to me. He will embrace me, kiss me, claim me—as he always has. Did you never wonder why he disappears on your mating anniversary? Fool. Those nights belonged to me.”

My stomach lurched violently, bile rising in my throat.

“That pink satin gown he gifted you last year?” Her smile spread, sharp and vicious. “I wore it first. He marked me while I wore it. Then he boxed it up and gave it to you, still warm with my scent.”

The world tilted. My heart cracked with each word.

“He says you are too tame, too dull to satisfy him. But me?” She licked her lips slowly, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “I give him everything he craves. Tonight, he’ll remember that.”

The corridor seemed to shrink around me. My wolf whimpered deep within, broken.

And in that moment, clarity cut through my despair like ice.

Every vow. Every kiss. Every whispered promise.

All lies.