The Luna He Never Wanted

The sting of Lucien’s hand burned across my cheek, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth where my teeth had cut into my lip. The sound of the strike still echoed in my ears, louder than the laughter from the banquet hall, louder than the whispers of the wolves pressing close to the doorway.

For a heartbeat, Lucien froze, his chest rising and falling sharply. His golden eyes—so cold, so merciless—flickered with something unreadable. Was it guilt? Shock at his own violence? Or simply annoyance that others had seen him lose control?

“Liora—” he began, his voice strained.

I flinched back instantly, clutching my belly as if his very touch might seep into my unborn pups. My wolf snarled faintly inside, weak but unwilling to cower completely.

His hand hovered in the air, trembling slightly, as though he wished to reach for me. But I couldn’t bear it. His palm was branded into my skin like fire.

“Don’t,” I whispered, my voice hoarse, broken.

Selene was faster. She slipped gracefully between us, her body language flowing like silk, her expression a perfect portrait of grief. Tears streaked down her flawless cheeks, catching the torchlight like liquid diamonds.

“This is my fault,” she wept, clutching Lucien’s arm as if to steady him. “Please—don’t blame her. I provoked her. I should have known better. Forgive her, Alpha, for my sake.”

The wolves at the door murmured. Their gazes softened toward her and hardened against me. In their eyes, Selene was merciful, gentle, magnanimous. And I—the Luna—was jealous, violent, unworthy.

Lucien’s jaw clenched. His gaze returned to me, hard and weighing.

“If you apologize to Selene,” he said slowly, each word deliberate, “I will forget this ever happened.”

A hush fell. Every wolf leaned closer, waiting, hungry. They wanted the Luna to bow. They wanted me broken.

The words sat on my tongue like poison. My pride screamed against them, but the pups in my womb twisted within me, reminding me that survival sometimes meant swallowing venom.

Selene stepped forward, folding her hands over her chest in a saint’s gesture. “You don’t have to,” she whispered sweetly. “I never wished to divide you. Please, don’t humiliate yourself for my sake.”

Her voice was honey. Her eyes were knives.

I said nothing. Silence was my last act of defiance.

Her lips curved almost imperceptibly before she turned back to Lucien, bowing her head. “I’ll go. I’ll give you two space. Don’t be too hard on her. She’s… fragile.”

She left in a flutter of crimson silk, her shadow long and triumphant across the wall.

Lucien stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then his voice dropped, low and sharp. “Go home, Liora. I will not come to you tonight. You’ve disappointed me.”

Something inside me snapped.

Three years of sacrifice. Three years of silence. Three years of giving everything I had—my body, my pride, my heart. And it meant nothing.

I stumbled from the chamber, my cheek throbbing, my vision blurred. The corridors twisted around me until I reached the east wing, where the noise of the feast dimmed and shadows stretched long. I pressed my hand to my belly, whispering desperately to my pups.

“I’ll keep you safe. No matter what.”

But the Goddess seemed to mock me. Because then I heard it.

A low, breathless moan.

I froze. The sound slid through the air, intimate, unmistakable. My wolf whimpered, urging me to turn away. But some cruel force dragged me forward, each step heavy, until I stood before a half-open door.

The scent hit me first—musk, heat, wolf desire thick in the air. My hands trembled. I pushed the door open wider.

And I saw them.

Lucien’s body pressed against Selene’s, his hands tangled in her golden hair. His lips devoured hers hungrily, his growl low and primal. Selene writhed against him, her legs hooked around his waist, her nails clawing at his back as though she were branding him with her touch.

My heart stopped. My blood froze.

“Take off your ring,” Selene purred between kisses, her lips swollen, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

“No,” Lucien growled back, his voice rough with desire. “Forbidden makes it sweeter. If only Liora was half as enticing as you…”

The world shattered.

I staggered back, bile rising in my throat. Memories assaulted me—every vow, every whispered mine, every night I had bled myself dry to keep him alive. The organ I had given him to save his life. The endless shifts at the tavern to fund his ambitions. The sleepless nights nursing him back from death.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

Claiming me wasn’t enough. Humiliating me wasn’t enough. He needed to desecrate the bond itself, to strip me until nothing remained.

My gaze dropped to my hand. The silver band glinted faintly in the torchlight, mocking me. The mark of our union. The proof of my chains.

It burned.

With trembling fingers, I clawed it off. The metal bit into my skin, drawing blood. A drop slid down my palm, scarlet and sharp, but the pain was freeing.

I set the ring on a nearby table, its cold gleam hollow.

This was the end.

I turned and walked away, each step unsteady but resolute, my tears blurring the path ahead.

The mate bond still throbbed faintly in my chest, but something deeper had broken. Something that no vow, no ritual, no Alpha command could repair.

The Luna of the Silverfang Pack was dead.

Only Liora remained.