The Luna They Destroyed, The Queen They Lost

The marble floor sent a chill straight through the fabric of my gown.

My palm stung where it hit the polished stone, and my right wrist throbbed from the force of my husband's grip before he cast me off. Around us, the grand banquet hall was dead silent. Hundreds of wolves from across the territory stood frozen under the crystal chandeliers, their golden eyes reflecting the catastrophe.

Today was our tenth wedding anniversary.

None of them remembered. None of them cared.

"Are you satisfied now?" Alpha Adrian Blackthorn stared down at me, his tall frame blocking the glare of the lights. His dark eyes held nothing but disgust. "Did you really have to pull a stunt like this tonight?"

Beside him, Sophia Laurent clutched her silk bodice, trembling. Red wine soaked through her pale silver gown, staining the front like fresh blood. Tears pooled along her lashes, ready to spill on command.

"Adrian, please don't yell at her," Sophia whispered, her voice fragile enough to break. "It was my fault. I stepped too close."

She turned her gaze down toward me, wincing as if she were the one bruised on the floor.

"Luna, I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to ruin your dress."

My dress was completely untouched. Not a drop of dark cabernet had marked my emerald silk. The entire contents of her glass were splattered across her own chest because she had tipped it backward against herself the second she lurched into me.

"You threw it on yourself, Sophia," I said, my voice scraping against my dry throat. "You rammed your shoulder into mine and dumped your drink."

"That's enough!" Adrian’s command cracked across the room like a whip.

The sheer power in his tone made several younger pack members near the pillars flinch. He took half a step forward, towering over me.

"Why do you always have to make everything about yourself?" he demanded.

"She crashed into me on purpose, Adrian," I replied, forcing my hands flat against the stone so I could push myself upward. My knees shook, but I refused to stay down. "Look at the angle of the splash. She threw it back toward her own ribs."

"Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?" Adrian scoffed, shaking his head. "Sophia spent three months organizing this banquet for our pack’s centenary. She spent all afternoon coordinating the guard rotations while you sat upstairs doing nothing. Why would she ruin her own gown?"

"Because she knew you would react exactly like this."

"Stop lying, Mom."

The voice cut deeper than Adrian’s shout.

My heart contracted. I turned toward the steps leading to the raised dais.

My sixteen-year-old son, Ethan, walked down the carpeted stairs. He wore a tailored black suit identical to his father's, his hair pushed back from his forehead. His features were a softer mirror of Adrian's, but right now, his mouth held the exact same cruel curl.

"Ethan," I breathed.

He didn't look at my bruised wrist. He didn't look at my trembling hands. He walked straight past me and stopped in front of Sophia, offering her his pocket square with practiced gentleness.

"Take this, Aunt Sophia," Ethan said quietly.

"Thank you, sweet boy," Sophia murmured, blotting her chest while casting a tearful glance at the gathering crowd. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Ethan turned his head toward me. His green eyes, so much like mine, were cold and flat.

"Mom, just apologize," Ethan stated.

A dead silence fell over the room. Even the elders near the high table shifted uncomfortably, though none of them spoke out to defend me.

"Ethan, you saw her," I whispered, fighting the sudden constriction in my chest. "You were standing five feet away by the punch bowl."

"I saw you glare at her when she brought Dad his glass," Ethan countered, his tone harsh and dismissive. "You've been picking fights with her all week. Everyone is tired of your jealousy. You embarrass Dad, you embarrass me, and you embarrass the whole pack."

"Jealousy?" A bitter sound escaped my lips. "She ordered the staff to clear out our family portraits in the east corridor yesterday. She gave away the heirloom dishes my mother left me. And you call that jealousy?"

"She was preparing the estate for high-ranking dignitaries!" Ethan snapped, stepping closer to his father. "You never do anything useful. Aunt Sophia is the only one who actually takes care of this family."

*Aunt Sophia.*

The title felt like a blade driven between my ribs.

I looked at the boy I had bled to bring into this world. I remembered every fever I had stayed awake through, every training injury I had patched with herbal poultices when his father was too busy running the pack to care.

None of it mattered. Sophia had spent the last two years feeding him praise, buying him sports cars, and whispering poison into his ear. Now, he belonged to her.

"See?" Adrian crossed his arms, his massive shoulders rigid beneath his dress uniform. "Even your own son can see through your games, Clara. You haven't changed one bit."

"I haven't played any games," I said, meeting his dark stare head-on. "Not once in ten years."

"You make a scene every time Sophia enters a room," Adrian said, his voice carrying clearly to every corner of the hall. "She is a daughter of the Laurent lineage. Her bloodline secured our northern borders before you even set foot in this pack. She has sacrificed more for this territory than you ever will."

"Then marry her," I said.

A collective murmur rippled through the spectators. Several councilmen gasped.

Adrian’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched beneath his skin. "Watch your tongue."

"Why should I?" I asked. "You parade her on your arm at every summit. You consult her on every territorial treaty. Tonight was our anniversary, Adrian. Did you even know that?"

Adrian paused. A flicker of something uncertain passed through his eyes, only to be stamped out a second later by cold arrogance.

"Dates don't excuse public humiliation," he said smoothly, ignoring the question entirely. "You created this mess. You will clean it up."

"I won't apologize for something she staged."

Sophia let out a faint, shuddering breath and placed a manicured hand on Adrian's forearm. Her touch was intimate, familiar, and completely unhidden.

"Adrian, it really is fine," Sophia pleaded softly. "I should go back to the hotel. I don't want to cause any more trouble between you two."

"You're not going back to any hotel," Adrian said, turning his attention to her with an instant shift in tone that made my stomach turn. His voice dropped to a warm, protective murmur. "The northern suites are drafty, and you're soaked."

He lifted his chin, addressing the entire room.

"Starting tonight, Lady Sophia will be staying in the main estate," Adrian declared. His voice rang out with absolute authority. "The master guest wing is hers for as long as she remains in the territory. Any disrespect shown toward her will be treated as direct insubordination to the Alpha."

Whispers erupted instantly among the pack members, but nobody dared challenge him.

Sophia cast her eyes downward, a tiny, triumphant smirk flickering across her lips before she hid her face against Adrian’s sleeve.

"Thank you, Adrian," she breathed. "You're always so good to me."

"Ethan," Adrian instructed, not even sparing me another glance. "Escort your aunt to the car. Have the housekeeper prepare the master suite immediately."

"Right away, Dad," Ethan answered instantly, offering Sophia his arm.

They walked toward the grand double doors together, flanked by two elite guards. The crowd parted like water to let them through, heads bowing in deep reverence as Sophia passed.

I stood alone in the center of the floor, the remnants of shattered crystal gleaming around my slippers.

Adrian adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, preparing to return to the council table as if I were nothing more than a spilled drink that had already been wiped clean.

"Adrian," I called out softly.

He stopped, turning his head half an inch over his broad shoulder. His expression was bored, thoroughly exasperated. "What now, Clara?"

I looked at him—really looked at him. I saw the handsome face I had loved for a decade, the man who had promised to stand between me and the world, the mate who had spent years slowly stripping away every piece of my dignity.

I didn't cry. For the first time in ten years, there was no lump in my throat, no wet sting behind my eyes.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" I asked.

Adrian didn't even turn his body around.

"Wherever you want," he said coldly. "Just stay out of our way."

He walked off toward the high table, where his advisors quickly surrounded him with fresh drinks and congratulatory words.

A strange sensation bloomed in my chest.

I smiled.

It wasn't a sad smile, or a bitter one. It was light, almost buoyant.

*Wherever I want.*

For ten years, I had stayed locked in this gilded fortress, begging for scraps of affection from a man who despised me and a son who resented my existence. I had shrunk myself until I was almost invisible, thinking that if I just endured enough pain, they would finally see my worth.

They never would.

I turned away from the crowded tables, ignoring the judgmental stares and mocking whispers of the pack elite. I walked out of the banquet hall through the servant's corridor, my spine straight and my steps light.

The place I truly wanted to go was far beyond their reach.

And they had no idea that tomorrow morning, the seat of the Luna would be completely empty.