The Luna Who Walked Away from Her Cruel Alpha

With that, he swept Vesper Duskmere up into his arms and turned away without another glance.

I stood frozen in place, as if the ground beneath me had turned to ice.

In that moment, I truly could not believe those words had come from his mouth.

The cold crept up from somewhere deep inside my chest, spreading outward through every vein, as though I had been dropped into a frozen lake. Somewhere beneath my ribs, my wolf had gone silent. Not sleeping. Not retreating. Just silent, in the way a wounded animal goes still when the pain is too large to fight.

How I got back to the den, I couldn't remember.

The whole way, I clenched my jaw until it ached, refusing to let a single tear fall.

By the time I stepped through the door, my eyes were already swollen red beyond hiding.

The den attendants saw the red mark across my face and startled, crowding around me asking what happened, whether someone had hurt me. One of them reached for the communicator, saying she would call Kael Blackthorne immediately, that he needed to come home and answer for this.

"Don't."

I stopped her, my voice barely above a whisper.

Every wound I carried, he had given me with his own hands.

I sat by the window and pressed a cold compress to my face for a full hour before the swelling began to ease. The skin still throbbed, dull and hot, and I could feel my wolf stirring faintly at the pain, too tired to do more than press against the inside of my thoughts like something trying to breathe through shallow water.

Then my communicator chimed.

A message from Vesper Duskmere.

"Luna, did you make it home? I'm already at the Healers' Lodge. Kael is so worried about me. I only fainted for a moment, and he reserved an entire VIP ward, brought in over a dozen moon-healers to examine me."

"Oh, by the way, how's your face? My fault for not holding back earlier. It must hurt terribly. Would you like to come to the Lodge? I could be generous and spare you one healer, just to check if there'll be permanent scarring."

I read it once, then forwarded the message directly to Kael Blackthorne.

He didn't reply until well past midnight.

"Vesper meant well."

I stared at those four words. And then I laughed.

I laughed, and kept laughing, until the tears slipped down my face without permission.

The next second, I sent him a voice message.

"You're so eager to protect her? Then why don't you just take her as your mate right now? I'll step aside. I'll even wish you both a blessed union under the Moon Goddess."

This time, he replied fast.

"Clara, why do you always say things you don't mean? I've told you so many times. My Luna will only ever be you. The others are just distractions, nothing serious. Don't take it so hard. Get some rest. I'll come home tomorrow and stay with you."

Reading those words, all I felt was a hollow, boneless exhaustion.

Like throwing a punch into empty air. No impact. No echo. Nothing at all.

I let out a bitter laugh, too drained to waste another word on something so meaningless, and switched off the communicator.

The next day.

After lunch, I drove to the Blackthorne ancestral den.

I brought with me the imperial jade set that Selene Sterling had given me on my mating day. The necklace, the earrings, the bracelet, all of it heavy with old moonlight, the kind that sank into your bones when you held the pieces too long.

The set was said to be a bloodline relic of their house. Passed down through generations of Blackthorne Lunas.

But my timing was poor.

Theron Sterling and Selene Sterling had left at dawn, flying out to a coastal retreat for the season.

I asked once, and the house steward told me they wouldn't return for a full moon cycle.

I said nothing more. I handed the relic set to the steward, turned, and left.

After leaving the ancestral den, I went to a spa house in the upper district.

On the way out, I stopped and bought over a dozen pairs of earrings that had caught my eye.

By the time I returned home, the lights in the main hall were already on.

Kael Blackthorne sat on the sofa, the low table in front of him covered in gift boxes.

He heard me come in, set down his communicator, and looked up.

"The steward says you returned the bloodline relics?"

"Yes."

A single word.

He exhaled slowly, then stood and came to sit beside me.

"Still angry? Come on, stop this. I got you all these gifts. Just forgive me this once, alright?"

I looked at him, and something in me twisted with a feeling close to disgust.

In his mind, returning the bloodline relics was nothing more than a tantrum.

Not a woman severing the last thread that tied her to his house.

He was so certain. So utterly certain that I could never leave him.

That certainty was why he dared to be so reckless. Why he dared to suggest they each keep their own lovers, as though that were a reasonable arrangement. Why he dared, again and again, to parade other she-wolves in front of me and watch me bleed.

I didn't answer.

I only glanced at the familiar crests stamped on those gift boxes, and something cold and sharp surfaced behind my eyes.

"What I want can only be one of a kind."