The Luna Who Refused to Kneel

“What are you trying to do?” His voice was low, “You want to throw away our photo? Leah, who gave you the guts?”

“Our photo?” I repeated softly. “Am I even in it?”

Ansel’s pupils shrank sharply.

He glared at me, and for a few seconds the tension in the air was like a string on the verge of snapping.

Suddenly, the anger on his face ebbed away like a tide. He looked at me, then glanced at the calendar on the wall. His expression shifted to one of frustration mixed with indulgence.

“Look at me, losing my head.” He reached out a hand, voice softening. “Silly girl, did you forget what day it is? I rushed back just to celebrate your birthday. Come down—it’s dangerous up there.”

I didn’t take his hand. I jumped off the chair on my own.

“What brought you back?” I asked flatly, my tone devoid of emotion.

Ansel pulled me into his arms, holding me so tight it felt like he wanted to press me into his bones. His voice was filled with deliberate tenderness. “Of course I came back to be with my birthday girl. Don’t pout. I didn’t forget.”

He cupped my face, trying to kiss my eyes.

I turned my head away, and his movement froze.

“Still sulking? Is it because you think I didn’t prepare a gift?” He grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the door with force. “Come on. Let’s see your birthday present.”

Outside, a brand-new white Maserati waited, an oversized red bow tied around it—gaudy and tacky.

Ansel pulled the keys from his pocket and shoved them into my palm.

“Your birthday gift. The third-anniversary edition.” He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Do you like it?”

Birthday? Or anniversary? He didn’t even know.

“Yes,” I said. I actually laughed. The irony was too much.

My compliance pleased him. He kissed my ear, his hand wandering restlessly under the thin fabric of my clothes. The scent of cedar mingled with another cloying sweetness.

Disgusting.

His breath grew heavier as he bent down to lift me up, carrying me back toward the house.

My muscles went taut, my mind racing for excuses to push him away. Should I say I’m tired? Or not feeling well?

Just then, his phone rang again.

For once, I felt grateful to the caller, even if it was Nancy.

Annoyance flickered across his face as he set me down, issuing a command.

“Go change. I’ll take you somewhere.”

I bolted upstairs. Behind me, his voice lowered on the phone, deliberately gentle.

“Hello, Nancy…”

In my room, I chose a black backless evening gown I had bought myself, one he’d never seen me wear.

I let my hair fall loosely, covering most of my bare back. The dress gleamed with a silky sheen.

When I came down, Ansel had hung up. His eyes swept over me, brows tightening slightly.

“Forget it. Tomorrow, I’ll buy you something better.”

He drove himself. The car glided smoothly out of the villa district, merging into city traffic.

The navigation destination: a private estate in the suburbs.

I knew this place. Last year on his birthday, we came here—just the two of us, shut away inside the villa for two full days.

Ansel stepped out first, circling to open my door. I had just straightened when—

Bang! Bang!

Golden confetti and rose petals rained down from above, shimmering like a gilded storm.

“Wow!”

“Hahaha!”

A crowd of people in formal attire burst out from the villa, champagne glasses in hand, smiling as they surrounded us.

“Luna! Happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday!”

“I told you, our Alpha would never forget Luna’s birthday!”

“Oh my god, she’s even prettier than the rumors said! Alpha’s taste is impeccable!”

My mind went blank. I could only stare at these unfamiliar faces. They were Ansel’s clan, his friends who I hadn’t seen once in three years.

Hadn’t Ansel said an Alpha’s mate must be kept secret, to avoid unnecessary trouble?

Hadn’t he said the timing wasn’t right?

Music swelled. A server wheeled out a massive birthday cake.

“Cut the cake! Cut the cake!”

A cold knife was pushed into my hand.

Ansel stood behind me, arms circling mine, his voice brimming with possession and proclamation.

“Leah, let’s cut it together.”

The sight of the cake, piled high with cream and fruit, made my stomach churn violently.

And then, the heavy double doors of the hall swung open.

Noise and music cut off as if someone had pressed pause.

A tall, imposing man stood at the entrance. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black coat, with the night sky as his backdrop, he carried a chilling aura unique to the Northern Territory, like ice and snow, so out of place amid the warmth and luxury of the hall.

His deep gray eyes cut through the crowd, locking directly onto me.

“Leah Redwood,” he said. “I’ve come for you. I believe you missed your flight to the North.”