The Luna He Rejected Was His True Destiny

I exhaled through my teeth and picked up the communicator again. The pack mind-link thread had blown up while I was dealing with the fallout, and I hadn't even glanced at it. When I opened it, every message was from Ciara. She had been updating the pack's inner circle on her injury, image after image, message after message. My jaw tightened as I scrolled through the crystal-images she had sent. They were carefully framed. Every single one featured her and me. I lingered on the worst of them: Ciara lying on the cot in the compound's Healing Hall, her face arranged in an expression of fragile suffering, while I stood over her looking every inch the concerned protector.

I ran a hand through my hair and dropped the communicator face-down on the desk.

Everything seemed to be spiraling out of my control, but none of it was my doing. Ciara needed me. My father had sworn a dying Moon Oath to her dying mother. I could not simply abandon that debt because of the ceremony. Neva should have understood how sacred the obligations of this pack were. She knew the life. She had always known the life.

Still, the guilt gnawed at me like a rat behind the walls. I had canceled our mating ceremony. Our Moon-Bound Union. For Ciara. And now Neva was furious, and the silence on the other end of that call had been the kind of silence that preceded war. Somewhere beneath my ribs, my wolf paced the length of its cage and would not lie down.

Maybe I could have handled it better. I should have called her first, spoken to her directly, asked for her understanding before making the decision. Or at the very least, I should have explained my reasons face to face instead of sending a message as if the union meant nothing. As if she meant nothing.

But what was done was done, and I had to deal with the fallout.

A knock on the study door pulled me from the spiral.

"Come in."

Ivar stepped through the heavy oak door with his usual measured calm, the kind of composure that had made him invaluable to me since we were pups running through the corridors of this very compound. He closed the door behind him without a sound, lowered himself into the chair across from my desk, and studied me with those sharp, patient eyes. The faint trace of gunmetal and dry pine resin settled into the room with him. If there was anyone in this world I could count on to help me make sense of this wreckage, it was him. My Beta. My brother in everything but blood.

"Dorian." His voice was low, almost gentle. "I heard what happened."

I leaned forward and pressed my knuckles against my temples.

"Yeah. Neva's furious."

Ivar raised an eyebrow, settling deeper into his chair, one ankle crossing over his knee with the ease of a wolf who had never lost a moment's sleep in his life.

"Furious at you for fulfilling your obligation?"

His words made me drag a hand down my face.

"I canceled the ceremony, Ivar. The Moon-Bound Union. She has every right to be upset."

He shook his head slowly, as though Neva's reaction was something he genuinely could not fathom.

"She might be upset, but you did what you had to do. Ciara was hurt. You're the Alpha. Your first responsibility is to the pack. That means ensuring every wolf under this roof is safe, especially when they're injured. Especially when they carry the weight of your father's oath."

"I know that." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "But Neva doesn't see it that way. She thinks I'm choosing Ciara over her."

Ivar's expression softened. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Dorian. You didn't choose Ciara over Neva. You chose the pack over everything. That is what being Alpha means. Neva knows that deep down, even if anger is blinding her right now."

I clenched my fists on the desk, the signet ring biting into my finger. Frustration coiled inside my chest like smoke with nowhere to go, and my wolf pressed against the underside of my skin, restless.

"I know she does. But it feels like I'm losing her, Ivar. I've been so consumed with the pack lately, with Ciara, with every crisis that walks through that door, that I haven't had a moment to breathe, let alone be with her."

"You're not neglecting her." Ivar's tone was firm, certain. "You carry responsibilities that most wolves will never understand. Neva is upset, sure. But she'll come around. You have always been there for her, and she knows that."

I didn't respond. I turned my head toward the window, where the lights of the eastern territory bled through the reinforced glass like distant fires. A part of me knew Ivar was right. Neva had always stood by me. Through the territory wars, through the funerals, through every blood-soaked night that came with this throne. But lately, something between us had shifted. I could feel the distance growing, a silence that had nothing to do with loyalty and everything to do with loneliness.